Such Miracles, as this that I have now related to you, are work’d here every Day: One can’t set a Foot into a House, without being entertain’d with some new Story plac’d to the Accompt of the Abbé _Paris_; yet I protest, that not one single Miracle has been prov’d: and M. _Herault_, the Lieutenant-General of the Police, to whom all these Miracles are reported, said, in my Hearing, that there was not one of them true; that ’twas a palpable Delusion; and that ’twas only tolerated, the better to trace it up to its Source, and to undeceive the Populace; which, I believe, will be no easy Matter, they are so much prepossess’d in Favour of their Saint. The only Way would be for the Pope to canonise the Sieur _Paris_, and then I am persuaded, that all the Devotees of this new Saint wou’d abandon him, rather than be in the Holy Father’s Mess. But here I leave both Father _Girard_ and the Abbé _Paris_, though perhaps I shall find an Opportunity of discovering all that I may hear of them to you, when I think it worthy of your Regard; but I shall be far from troubling you with every impertinent Tale that is reread about them; for I verily believe, that all the Songs and Verses that are made upon them wou’d form several Volumes: And it must be expected this Humour will last, till something new starts up to drown both these Subjects of present Conversation. I own to you, that I am very much in Pain to think what the _French_ can have to amuse them after this is over; for their Genius is such, that it must have something to work upon, tho’ ’tis happy for them that a mere Nothing suffices, and that such Nothing is always treated by them as a serious Affair, and proves to them an inexhaustible Fund of Something.
You ask me, how I employ my Time here? which is a Question that is not very soon answer’d. My Amusements are of such various Kinds, that, to be plain with you, I find myself at a loss to account for them. I should often be very much puzzled to prove an _alibi_ of two Days. This Country is my Centre, and PARIS is to me the Spring of Youth. Never was any Reflection more mortifying to me, than the Thought that I am not in a Condition to fix my Habitation here; for tho’ I find Faults in the _French_, as well as in all other Nations, yet I acknowledge they have a thousand good Qualities; and I think them much more amiable at home than they are abroad, where, be a Man ever so much prepossess’d in their Favour upon other Accounts, he is surfeited with their eternal Criticisms, and to hear them incessantly remarking, _They don’t do so at +Paris+. You don’t see this in +France+_. Here they are polite, good-natur’d, humane, civil and engaging; and a Foreigner, who can bring himself ever so little into their Way of Thinking, Acting, and Speaking, will always be sorry to leave them.