In no holiday resort that I know of is there more energetic touting carried on by restaurants than at Mont St. Michel. Boys in blue aprons interrupt their game of tossing sous into the air to shout to the passengers arriving by tramway the merits of the various restaurants on the rock, and all the way up the narrow street, which climbs, by steep gradients and occasional steps, to the abbaye, the best-looking maid of the many cafes and restaurants stands at the door offering a card, and extolling the view to be seen, the luncheon to be eaten, or the coffee to be drunk. The higher one goes up the street the cheaper the luncheon becomes. At the Poulard establishment, almost on a level with the sea, the price is 3 francs. A hundred feet higher the price drops to 2 francs. From the number of Poulard’s establishments one might suppose that the mount was peopled by Poulards, French Provincial Fowns 89 but the establishment nearest the gate of entry into the fortifications is the Restaurant Poulard, with a celebrity for the making of a great eighteen-egg omelette, and for fowls roasted, half-a-dozen at a time, on a great spit. Madame Poulard, in old days, used herself to wield the titanic pan in which the omelette was made. I believe that the good lady has sold her restaurant to a Paris syndicate, and has re- tired ; but the great pan is still to be seen in the kitchen, and is used when tourists wish to see the omelette made. Poulard Jeune and Poulard Aine used to have res- taurants in opposition to each other, but they are now joined under the name of Poulards Les Poulards Reunis, and form one large hotel restau- Reunis rant, with several “ dependances.” There is plenty of noise at the Poulard Restaurant, for a waiter in the shelter across the street, where coffee is served, rings a big bell whenever he has a few seconds to spare. The luncheon rooms, big bare rooms of match-boarding and plaster, are on the first floor, and when the summer season is at its height there is often a great crush on the narrow staircase leading up to them. A big table runs down the centre of each room, and there are smaller tables by the walls. Sturdy waitresses in black bustle about, clearing away dirty plates and glasses, and laying a fresh set for each new arrival. The lunch is a big 3-francs worth, with the usual 50 centimes added for proud people who wish to sit at separate tables. On the day I lunched there it consisted of cold ham, an omelette, mutton cutlets and potatoes, roast veal and salad, and cakes and cheese. The Duguesclin, further up the street than the Poulard establishment, has an airy _ , . . 11- The Duguesclin dining-room looking out on to the rampart. The lunch is, I believe, a 1.50 one, but it may have risen to 2 francs. 90 T'he Gourmet's Guide to Europe St. Malo Hotel de France et de Chateau- briand, Place Chateaubriand street.

AI-modernized reading of the original text

In no holiday resort that I know of is there more energetic touting carried on by restaurants than at Mont St. Michel. Boys in blue aprons interrupt their game of tossing sous into the air to shout to the passengers arriving by tramway the merits of the various restaurants on the rock, and all the way up the narrow street, which climbs, by steep gradients and occasional steps, to the abbaye, the best-looking maid of the many cafes and restaurants stands at the door offering a card, and extolling the view to be seen, the luncheon to be eaten, or the coffee to be drunk. The higher one goes up the street the cheaper the luncheon becomes. At the Poulard establishment, almost on a level with the sea, the price is 3 francs. A hundred feet higher the price drops to 2 francs. From the number of Poulard’s establishments one might suppose that the mount was peopled by Poulards, French Provincial Towns 89 but the establishment nearest the gate of entry into the fortifications is the Restaurant Poulard, with a celebrity for the making of a great eighteen-egg omelette, and for fowls roasted, half-a-dozen at a time, on a great spit. Madame Poulard, in old days, used herself to wield the titanic pan in which the omelette was made. I believe that the good lady has sold her restaurant to a Paris syndicate, and has retired ; but the great pan is still to be seen in the kitchen, and is used when tourists wish to see the omelette made. Poulard Jeune and Poulard Aine used to have restaurants in opposition to each other, but they are now joined under the name of Poulards Les Poulards Reunis, and form one large hotel restau- Reunis rant, with several “ dependances.” There is plenty of noise at the Poulard Restaurant, for a waiter in the shelter across the street, where coffee is served, rings a big bell whenever he has a few seconds to spare. The luncheon rooms, big bare rooms of match-boarding and plaster, are on the first floor, and when the summer season is at its height there is often a great crush on the narrow staircase leading up to them. A big table runs down the centre of each room, and there are smaller tables by the walls. Sturdy waitresses in black bustle about, clearing away dirty plates and glasses, and laying a fresh set for each new arrival. The lunch is a big 3-francs worth, with the usual 50 centimes added for proud people who wish to sit at separate tables. On the day I lunched there it consisted of cold ham, an omelette, mutton cutlets and potatoes, roast veal and salad, and cakes and cheese. The Duguesclin, further up the street than the Poulard establishment, has an airy _ , . . 11- The Duguesclin dining-room looking out on to the rampart. The lunch is, I believe, a 1.50 one, but it may have risen to 2 francs. 90 T'he Gourmet's Guide to Europe St. Malo Hotel de France et de Chateaubriand, Place Chateaubriand street.

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