PARIS has only 17,000 bakers and 14,500 butchers, but it has 33,000 saloons. In the whole of France 160,000 persons are employed in making bread, but 500,000 are employed in saloons. An additional fact is that one-twentieth of the voters of the country are employed in this business. There are saloons for all classes and for all purses, and many in the large cities have become nothing more nor less than gambling-hells in which one may try his luck as merrily as possible. But the greatest evil is that the tavern, the faubourg of the great city of the village, has become a meeting-place for the people; the saloon is no longer a place in which to drink; it is a place in which to spend a large portion of one's time. Thus, little by little, the saloons have become public institutions—institutions which everything conspires to develop, even the apparent interest of the state. For it must not be forgotten that the saloon pays not only the octroi, or city taxes; it also pays a license, the taxes on drinks and alcohol, as well as other charges which indirectly affect all landlords and tenants. Fifty years ago only three quarts of liquor per head were consumed in France, but to-day we have nine quarts per head. Fifty years ago bitters and absinthe were unknown, but to-day France consumes over 60,000,000 quarts of these beverages. And the evil is so great to-day that private initiative can not check it—we must turn to the state. The only thing that can do away with a portion of the evil is to restrict licenses, remove the saloons from the neighborhoods in which crowds collect, decree that the trade can not be plied by suspicious characters, and bar the road to the tavern so far as incorrigible drunkards are concerned. In addition to this, stringent laws must be passed making drunkenness a punishable offense.—Translated for Public Opinion from Paris Revue Bleue.