patronise true, unpretending, honest merit, but you are attracted by my glittering casque, my sweeping crest, my waving plumes. You are captivated by din and glitter, and therein lies my strength. Years ago I hired a modest shop in the Rue Rivoli, but I could not sell pencils enough to pay my rent, whereas, by assuming this disguise—it is nothing else—I have succeeded in attracting general attention, and in selling literally millions of my pencils; and I assure you, there is at this moment scarcely an artist in France or in Great Britain who does not know that I manufacture by far the best blacklead pencils ever seen.” And Mangin so far differed from other mountebanks in the fact that his wares were everywhere said to be superior to any others.
Speaking of Mangin reminds us of another French itinerant who forms the central figure of a rather amusing story. In July 1817 a man of imposing figure, wearing a large sabre and immense moustache, arrived at one of the principal inns of a provincial city in France, with a female of agreeable shape and enchanting mien. He alighted at the moment the dinner was being served up at the table d’hôte. His martial appearance and bearing caused all the guests to rise with respect; they felt assured he must be a lieutenant-general or a major-general at least. A new governor was expected in the province about