her arm through his, smiled as his lips touched her noble brow; a tear was in his eye as he quickly turned his face from the too observing and fondly attached Empress, as they silently wended their way amid the deep foliage to their favourite Eden-like spot, and while the soul-thrilling music from the Emperor's select band echoed from the distant barracks around the enchanting grounds, mingling its sweet strains with the murmuring fountains, Napoleon, for once, giving way to feelings which cannot at times be suppressed, whispered to his Empress, as he pressed her to his throbbing heart while a tear glistened in his eye: "Would my dear Louise, I might ever indulge thus in the calm and quiet shades of my own St. Cloud, and learn war no more."

After roaming through these enchanting gardens, we approached the Chateau, and stepping on the colonnade, Captain L. touched a secret spring attached to one of the windows which reached to the floor; it suddenly opened inward like folding doors similar to all French windows, on hinges, which led us into a long corridor, whose beautiful painted walls seemed covered with costly paintings, and the niches with statuary. Most of Napoleon's furniture still adorns this palace, and the rich lounge, on which the late Emperor used to take his siesta, remained in its old position, on which I had permission to rest myself and reflect a moment on the brevity of all human greatness and splendour. St. Cloud and its environs are considered the most romantic spots around Paris: the village is neat and airy, the inhabitants polite and attentive to all who visit or pass through it. A steamer runs regularly to the village from the city, which gives the tourist an opportunity of viewing the beautiful scenery on the banks of the placid Seinefare for the excursion only one franc; the same as the railway. After partaking of a late dinner with the polite and attentive Captain L., and wishing to return by the steamer, I stepped on board, which was crowded with a party of pleasure from the city, who kept up their quadrilles until we arrived at the quay opposite the Tuileries, about sun-down. In its gardens, the King's band were then serenading..

Many of the houses in Paris are six and seven stories high, and some contain twenty separate families, all entering one door from a court, with but one flight of stairs. At the gate of the court is a paid porter, who has a list of names of all the families, the number in each family, and the numbers of their separate apartments. A bell is attached to every room: therefore, when a call is made, the porter looks at the card and pulls the proper bell; a servant soon appears, and the visiter is conducted to the family without probably meeting with a single soul on the stairway, or hearing any unpleasant noise among so vast a multitude congregated in one building in the heart of Paris.

So strict are the police regulations in Paris, that all the omni

buses which are continually passing and repassing through its gates, which a stranger would not probably notice, as the streets run far beyond the gates, are all searched on their return, and even ladies' small baskets and packages of articles purchased at the stores for their own use, are not exempt, to prevent the introduction of articles which are liable to pay duty. Yet, all this is done in the most polite manner, and in a few moments' time. It appears strange at first to the tourist, but, like every thing else when abroad, we soon get used to habits and customs, and cease to wonder.

The General Post Office is situated on the Rue de Grenelle, a narrow street running from Saint Honore to the Boulevard Monmartre. The building is not near as spacious as the one in London, nor so convenient for stages to arrive and depart from; ap. pears small for a building for the purpose intended, and in the very heart of the city, being situated in a confined court. Sub Post Offices are, as in all great cities, all over the city of Paris. The Gambling Houses are on a more extensive and extravagant scale than in any part of Europe; London not excepted. Those in the Palais Royal should be visited out of curiosity by the tourist, to see how these luxurious and tempting money traps are set to catch the unwary. Never having gambled in my life, and unacquainted with any of the French games, I was not even invited to play, but invited by the bankers to partake of some of the tempting viands spread out in the private saloons, under which the rich tables seemed to groan, and the marble sideboards smile with the costly and tempting wines, &c., with which they were loaded. There were many Englishmen and some Americans playing at the tables piled up with gold and silver, many of whom had visited the sideboard once too often, and as they lost or won, the oaths, mad gestures, and threats, were enough to astound the silent spectator, but having my protector in my pocket (the autograph) I was as cool and calm amid the noise as in my own quiet room. I was a little surprised, when I first visited Crockford's, in St. James's Street, London, but in the Palais Royal, I was indeed truly astonished at the magnificence around me. How many hundreds of young gentlemen, who have entered these gambling palaces with wealth and honour, have, in a state of mind bordering on distraction, left them to find a bed in the bottom of the Seine, whose tempting, rushing waters are heard at the still hour of midnight rapidly passing the piers of the numerous bridges which cross its stream in the immediate vicinity of these celebrated places of resort!

But we have these establishments in all our chief cities, and although not on so magnificent a scale, yet as alluring to the young, thoughtless stranger, who is enticed with a hope of increasing his wealth, but soon leaves, a penniless wretch-a living monument of splendid misery.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

Paris; Its Walls; Fortifications by Louis Philippe ; Useless Expendi ture; Palace of the Tuileries; Its Gardens; Place Du Carrousel; The Egyptian Obelisk; Place de la Concorde; Enchanting Prospect; Chamber of Deputies; Champs Elysees; Champs de Mars; Trium. phal Marble Arch, etc. etc.

PARIS most certainly may be classed in the first rank of the most beautiful cities in the world. Its walls are about seventeen miles in circumference, and within a few years past, Louis Philippe has, at certain exposed points, rendered them almost impregnable to a foreign foe, and truly so to an internal one. The fear of the latter, doubtless caused him to almost drain the treasury of the nation, to accomplish an object which must prove futile in this present enlightened age. Should a foreign enemy invade France, and lay siege to its capital, what advantage would its impregnable walls have to defend it, when the enemy would be sure to have possession of the eminences around the city, and in a few hours lay it in ruins? If I am wrong in my calculations, I should be pleased if those of more experience would point out my error, provided they have stood upon those eminences, as I have, and while there, drew the conclusions which I have briefly stated. If the true secret were known, it would be found that Louis Philippe, fearing an outbreak, or revolution, at the time, among the dissatisfied people, resorted to this costly expedient to give them employment, and thereby turn their attention from a project which, if successful, would have cost him his crown, if not his head, so determined were the people at that particular juncture to have a change of government; hence the many attempts to assassinate him in open day. So much for the walls of Paris-now for the King's Palace.

The Palais des Tuileries and its splendid gardens, are most generally the first objects of attraction to the tourist on first arriving in Paris. The Tuileries is so named on account of its being situated on a place where tiles were made. This grand, imposing palace, was commenced by Catharine de Medicis, in 1564; and

completed in the reigns of Louis XIII., and XIV., and is well worth a prolonged visit to examine its internal and external attractions. It is of stone, and about one-fifth of a mile fronting on its picturesque gardens, its left wing resting on the banks of the Seine, and its right on the Rue de Rivoli; in its rear, is the Place du Carrousel, an immense square, so named from a splendid festival given by Louis XIV. On the second day, devoted to knightly games, the king, who appeared in the character of Roger, carried off four prizes. All the crown jewels were prodigalized on his arms and the trappings of his charger. Place du Carrousel is now the square from which the omnibuses start for the Versailles railway station; and all the buildings which enclose the square are occupied as barracks for the troops (about 1000) who guard the Tuileries, and the royal family. Through the centre main building of the palace, the door, or passage, is made a common highway for everybody, as much so as any lane or passage-way in Paris, who wish to visit its gardens, or make a short cut to any place in the vicinity. A guard of soldiers are always in the passage, to prevent any one ascending the grand stairway to the saloon above-and amuse their time in playing cards, dominoes, &c., while seated on the marble floor, a floor which has so oft been stained with human blood during the horrors of the revolution. In the centre of the palace, over the broad passage-way, proudly floats in dizzy height, the banner of France, during the king's sojourn in the city. The palace stands at the head of the gardens, and on coming out, at the right and left, are two parterres, enclosed with neat netted iron railings, in which the royal family promenade, and inhale the perfume of flowers brought from the four quarters of the globe. The king's band play here, and fountains in all directions, through these matchless gardens, fill the air with their unceasing murmurs. The smooth, wide gravelled walks, terraces, shrubbery, flowers, groves of chestnut and lime trees, statues in bronze, marble vases, &c. &c., all combine to make them the favourite promenade of citizens and strangers, who at all times and seasons resort here in immense crowds. Chairs for the accommodation of thousands are scattered under the shade trees, and amid the more dense umbrage; ladies in small groups, with their pet lap-dogs, here sit reading, sewing, and gossiping, while the numerous children of all classes are amusing themselves in the shade, or feeding the stately swans in the fountains, free from care or danger.

On leaving the gardens, through the broad avenue at the south end, you come to Place Louis XV., now called Place de la Concorde, which is the centre of Paris, and where the dread Guillotine stood in 1793, which deprived Louis XVI., and his beautiful queen, Marie Antoinette, of their heads. Charlotte Corday was also executed here, with a moss rose-bud between her lips, which kept its

place while her head fell into the bloody basket. Only half a century has expired, when this beautiful Court, now glittering with marble, gilding, and dashing fountains, ran down with the noblest blood of France. Daily, during the revolution, carriages poured into this lovely and enchanting Court, laden with the rich and the proud, the young and the beautiful, to ascend the fatal scaffold. Now, on this very spot, once so saturated with human blood, stands in bold relief, the famous Egyptian Obelisk, seventy-three feet in height, weighing near 500,000 pounds, and covered from its base to its top with about 2,000 hieroglyphics. It was brought from Egypt and erected on this spot in 1836, by order of Louis Philippe. While standing at the base of the obelisk, the tourist will have a more enchanting prospect than probably can be found in the world. The Tuileries in front, behind the Champs Elysees, or the Elysian Fields, reaching to the Triumphal Arch of Napoleon; at the right, the Chamber of Deputies and the palace of its President; in the distance, the venerable towers of Notre Dame; on the left, the towering column at Place Vendome, and that most beautiful structure, the Church Madeleine, which is allowed to be the most magnificent Church in modern times, resembling very much at that distance Girard College, at Philadelphia. The tourist by passing over Pont de la Concorde, which here crosses the Seine, will stand fronting that most chaste building in all Paris, the Chamber of Deputies; then retracing his steps to the obelisk, from there he can continue his walk to the Champs Elysees, which is a spacious common, or area, the most pleasant walk about Paris, and most magnificent entrance to the city. It is laid out with great taste in walks, planted with every variety of trees. All the great National fetes are given here, at which times it is most brilliantly illuminated. Further on is the Champ de Mars, an oblong enclosure, and extends from the Military Academy to the Seine. It is usually appropriated to review the troops. When here, the tourist will be at the extreme end of the Avenue de Neuilly, where stands the Triumphal Marble Arch, which cannot be exceeded for its beautiful architecture and magnificent appearance. Standing here, the tourist will see the Tuileries, on a straight line, at a distance of near two miles, overlooking Champs Elysees, Place de la Concorde, and the Tuileries gardens, &c. A most sublime prospect it is, and only equalled in its truly picturesque magnificence, by the view from the terrace at Windsor Castle to Snow Hill, the extreme end of what is termed the "Long Walk" in Windsor Park, where stands the equestrian statue of George the Third, three miles distant from the Castle, which is seen from the terrace through a broad, even avenue, arched with ancient elms, and is the favourite drive of Queen Victoria and her Court.