a seat.

on showing which to the pew-opener, I was led to The sermon was a very ordinary one, and the church by no means full. It is difficult for a person, not conversant with the French language, to spend the Sabbath profitably in the exercises of public worship, Paris being but ill provided with English places of worship.

In the evening, the gardens of the Tuileries, which are opposite the Hotel Meurice, were literally crowded with people; and the Champs Elysees, a fine public park, also near this, was thronged. The latter was a scene of the wildest gayety. Every species of amusment and recreation seemed to be pursued with the most eager avidity. Here was pleasure seeking rampant, almost delirious. Swings, singing girls, equestrian performances, feats of agility, conjuring tricks, seemed to afford the most extravagant delight to the thronging thousands who filled the gardens. The whole appearance of the city was that of a grand gala day—such as the Fourth of July at home.

On Monday morning, I commenced regularly the tour of Paris, beginning with the Chamber of Deputies. The room in which the Deputies meet was built hastily, when the first Assembly met,

just after the formation of the Republic, and, though somewhat rough, answers every purpose. It is of the semi-circular form; the Speaker's seat being in the centre, and the two extreme parties occupying the right and left of the Chamber, while the moderates sit between them, opposite the Speaker. It has accommodations for seven hundred members. Immediately adjoining it is the one in which the Deputies met during the reign of Louis Philippe-a very elegant room, though much smaller than the other.

While passing out, we saw a company of the National Guard. This body of men consists in all of about one hundred thousand; only a few, however, do service at once, so that each individual, in time of peace, is not required to turn out more than four times a year. They are all volunteers, and do not usually receive any pay. Many wealthy young men are members of this Guard.

The School of the Fine Arts (Palais and Ecole des Beaux Arts) contains a great many curious things, casts of Grecian sculpture, paintings, &c.; also copies, on the scale of one inch to one hundred, of many of the public buildings and ruins of Rome. Those who gain the prize given by the

Academie des Beaux Arts, on certain conditions, are sent to Rome, to study there for three years, at the expense of the Government.

The Column of July, erected to the memory of those who fell on the side of the people, during the memorable three days of 1830, stands on the site once occupied by the Bastile. It is composed of bronze, and is very beautiful. It cost two hundred and forty thousand dollars; is one hundred and sixty-three feet high, in addition to the pedestal on which it stands; is twelve feet in diameter, and contains one hundred and sixty-three thousand pounds of metal. A spiral stair, of two hundred and thirty-five steps, runs up the centre to the top. A large gilt figure, representing Liberty on tip-toe, surmounts the whole. From the top, the view of the city is very good, as, in addition to the height of the pillar, it stands on an eminence. The cylinders of brass, of which it is composed, not being supported by any masonry within, I could feel sensibly the monument vibrating, by a strong wind which was blowing while I was upon it. Though, of course, in no danger, the mere thought of being precipitated from so great a height was anything but pleasurable. In vaults

below and around it are interred the bones of those who fell during that struggle.

From the Place de la Bastile, in which this column stands, runs the Rue St. Antoine, celebrated as the great rendezvous and scene of action of the insurgents during the battle of the people in June, 1848. In this struggle, more officers were killed than during any battle of Napoleon's. The houses all around bear traces of the émeute. Holes made by the bullets are staring the passer-by from almost every sign-board, whilst the walls and pillars in all directions are defaced by them. Many houses were entirely destroyed, but those have since been rebuilt. It was here that the Archbishop of Paris was killed, though my guide assured me that it was not, as reported, by the mob, but by an accidental shot from one of the soldiers.

We next visited the Cemetery of Pere la Chaise. These beautiful grounds consist of about one hundred and ninety acres, laid out with great regularity, and the principal part closely filled with tombs and monuments. Truly, the French are people of exquisite taste: the monuments here abundantly testify this, were there no other evidence of it. For much of its beauty the people

are indebted, as they are for almost everything of any beauty or excellence, to the genius of Napoleon. Noble avenues lead through it, lined with fine trees. The whole air is odoriferous with roses and sweet-briar, while the ear is charmed with the singing of birds. The monuments display most extraordinary variety, scarcely two being in any degree alike. Over the graves beautiful flowers are planted; and garlands, the gift of some attached friend, hang from almost every recent tombstone..

One of the most beautiful and expensive of the monuments is to the Russian Countess Demidoff, the entablature being supported by ten columns, under which is a sarcophagus, bearing on it the arms and coronet of the deceased. The whole is in beautiful white marble. The tomb of Abelard and Heloisa, who died in the middle of the twelfth century, is here; it was formed by Lenoir out of the ruins of the Abbey of Paraclete, founded by Abelard, and of which Heloisa was the first Abbess. On one side of the grounds is the burying-place of the Protestants, which is divided from the Roman Catholic part by an avenue. In this cemetery is a monument built of - stone and lime, erected by a mason, a working-man,