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I bave had him this day served up for your the waters, or to die easily in the quiet of repast! Yes, my lords, you have eaten the country. Baden, Ems, and Homburg Tiberius, and your noble stomachs have are, however, exceptions to this rule; made for him a tomb that is worthy of his and if the papers are to be credited, these fame !"

are even now crowded by English and Guinot says the noble diners-out bore it French visitors. kindly ;-which, however, we may set down As a pleasant little story of French craft, as a Gallic perversion of English delicacy. we shall take the trouble to translate here

The same piquant journalist gives a sum- a late episode from the Paris chronicles of ming up, in one of his later letters, of the the day. It is headed “ An Italian Count." qualities and attractions of the various M. P-rich, and retired from business, watering places of Europe. He particularly had a pretty hotel not far out of the city, eulogizes the scenery and the redeeming which he inhabited, with his wife and daughqualities of the springs of the Pyrenees; ter. Finding they had more room than they more especially he commends that mountain could well employ, they advertised a soug ai: to the poor ladies, whose nerves are worn pavilion at the end of the garden to rent. at with the shock of the winter's encoun- Three days after, a young man of foreign ter. The nervous system-continues he, in aspect, calling himself Leonard, examined true French style—is the great system of one of the apartments, and attended only by women. In old times, the world called a a single servant, took possession. He vas derangement of this complicated system, a quiet person, and could be seen every day the vapors ; but the term has gone out of from the hotel writing at his window. fashion, and all vaporing ladies are now said The lady-wife and daughter of M. Pto be suffering with neuralgia, nor is there were naturally excessively curious. There a woman in the world so much to be pitied, seemed no means, however, of gratifying and so much to be dreaded, as such a sufferer. their curiosity, and they watched their mys

As for the sweet springs in the South, the terious lodger in wonder and torment. road that leads to them, he says, was only After some days, however, the quick eyes a little while ago so dangerous, that a good of the daughter caught sight of a letter share of the invalids break their necks on which the stranger had dropped in his walk the way. Whoever has travelled over the through the garden. This was a prize not by-roads upon the French mountains may to be overlooked, and though excessively senwell believe the story. Now, however, in-sible and worthy people, they ventured to valids arrive in safety, and make up such a open and read the letter. They learned mournful and solemn company, as to give from it that their lodger was a young Italian an autumnal cast to the gayest foliage of of rank, just escaped from political martyr. summer. Lodgings, says the journalist, are dom, and now negotiating with powerful rare, and the hotel-keepers are so demure friends, to secure the release of his aged and sleepy, that they make no effort to father extend their accommodations. Indeed, there Both mother and daughter were in rapare chances that the visitor will sleep the tures; they returned the letter with an first night in his own carriage-with a unsuspecting air,—when, to their increasing promise of a vacant bed next day. The rapture, the fair Leonard voluntarily made curious traveller once possessed of the bed them his confidants—"not presuming to coninquires after his predecessor.

ceal from their generosity a secret which “ His name is D-, monsieur.”

fate had thrown in their way.” Ah, and he left after dinner, yesterday ?" Henceforth Leonard was a guest at his Yes, monsieur."

host's table, and a quiet, unassuming, honest Cured ?"

lover of his host's daughter. “No, dead.”

He met casually at his host's table with This will seem strange to those who fre- a rich banker, an old friend of M. P-, and quent watering places for dancing and in virtue of that friendship, admitted him, riding ; but the truth is, most of the medi- too, to a knowledge of his secret. Nerer cipal springs in Europe are attended by was sympathy more cordial, or secresy better those really anxious to gain advantage from preserved.

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At length, on a bright day, Leonard came it kept on the stage! Admit that it is not running to his friend to announce the release lascivious; who will pretend that it is essenof his father. The family were in ecstasies. tially graceful? I was glad to see that the He must come to the pavilion at the foot of cially popular with the audience - that

most extravagant distortions were not spe. the garden, and share apartinents with his nearly all the applause bestowed upon those

And the marriage so long deferred ballet-feats which seemed devised only to must signalize his return. Nothing could favor a liberal display of the person, came

from the little knot of hired claquers' in be more reasonable.

the centre of the pit. If there were many Leonard went, under the advice of the who loved to witness, there were few so banker, to buy marriage presents. He pur. shameless as to applaud. chased largely, and in company with such a If the Opera is ever to become an elefriend, - with undisputed credit.

ment of social life and enjoyment in New Two days after the senior count was to York, I do trust that it may be such a one

as thoughtful men may take their daughters arrive; Leonard was to meet him in the to witness without apprehension or remorse. city ;-he even took back the diamond neck. I do not know whether the Opera we now lace which he bad purchased two days be have is or is not such a one: I know this is fore, to exchange for one still more maguifi. not. Its entire, palpable, urgent tendency cent;-he borrowed twenty louis from the

is ' earthly, sensual, devilish.'» proud father-in-law, to meet his parent's It is amusing, moreover, to read the comimmediate necessities, and drove out of the ments of such a thorough utilitarian upon court-yard.

some of the sights of Paris. The night came on with no Leonard—no

“ The first object of interest I saw in count. The beau Italian had gone with a Paris was the Column of Napoleon in the diamond necklace, with twenty louis in Place Vendome, as I rattled by it in the gold, with the heart of the daughter; and gray dawn of the morning of my arrival. had left in place of them an old portmanformed of cannon taken by the Great Cap;

This gigantic column, as is well known, was au, a broken file of the Presse, and a senti. tain in the several victories which irradiated mental verse or two upon the window pane. his earlier career, and was constructed while

In contrast with this French piquancy of he was emperor of France and virtually of dressing we shall now entertain the reader the Continent. His statue crowns the pyrawith Mr. Greeley's plain, matter-of-fact no

mid; it was pulled down while the allied tions about the ballet at the French Opera. tempt was made to prostrate the column

armies occupied Paris, and a resolute atThe singing does not appear to have en- also, but it was too firmly rooted. The gaged that staid gentleman's attention one statue was not replaced till after the revohalf as much as the dancing girls.

lution of 1830. The Place Vendome is

small, surrounded by high houses, and the "I am, though no practitioner, a lover of stately column seems dwarfed by them. But the dance.

Restricted to proper hours and for its historic interest, and especially that fit associates, I wish it were far more general of the material employed in its constructhan it is. Health, grace, muscular energy, tion, I should not regard it very highly. even beauty, might be promoted by it. Why Far better placed, as well as more mathe dancing of the theatre should be ren jestic and every way interesting, is the dered disgusting I cannot yet comprehend. Obelisk of Luxor, which for thousands of The 'poetry of motion,' of harmonious evolu- years had overshadowed the banks of the tions, and the graceful movement of twink- Nile until presented to France by the late ling feet,' I think I appreciate. All these Pacha of Egypt, and transported thence to are natural expressions of innocent gayety the Place de la Concorde, near the Garden and youthful elasticity of spirits, whereof of the Tuileries. I have seen nothing in this world sees far too little. I wish there Europe which impressed me like this magwere more of them.

nificent shaft, covered as it is with myste“ But what grace, what sense, what witch- rious inscriptions which have braved the ery, there can be, for instance, in a young winds and rains of four thousand years, yet girl's standing on one great toe and raising seems as fresh and clear as though chiselled the other foot to the altitude of her head, I but yesterday. The removal of this bulk cannot imagine. As an exhibition of mus of many thousand tons from Egypt to Paris cular power, it is disagreeable to me, be entire is one of the most marvellous achieve. cause I know that the capacity for it was ments of human genius, and Paris has for acquired by severe and protracted efforts, me no single attraction to match the Obelisk and at the cost of much suffering. Why is of Luxor.




The Tuileries strikes me as an irregular We have taken our readers, this week, to mass of buildings with little pretensions to the other side of the water, and have enarchitectural beauty or effect. It has great grossed our columos so much with French capacity and nothing more. much finer, yet still not remarkable, but its topic, that we have no room for mention of wealth of Paintings by the Great Masters what is stirring at home. We regret this of all time surprised as well as delighted the less, however, for the reason that there

I never saw any thing at all compara- is nothing of interest here to be noted ; and ble to it."

our readers will surely agree with us, that It seems rather odd to find the practical nothing can so relieve the heat of this July philosopher going into raptures over the season, as a stroll aniong the haunts which severe column of Luxor, and reckoning its are made grateful by French gayety and transportation one of the “greatest triumphs French gossip. of human genius;" what will the old gentleman say, when he gets to Rome, finds a huger one by half, standing upon bronze Of Books we have scarce any thing to tri pods, and yet seeming a pigmy milestone record. The monthlies of HARPER and before the awful size of St. Peter's dome? STRINGER & TOWNSEND, have made their However, there is no accounting for tastes; appearance, and are made attractive by and ten to one, the object which will seem very many articles, in the publication of most adınirable to Mr. GREELEY at Rome, which our journal had the good fortune to will be the Cloaca Maxima—the greatest anticipate them weeks ago. and stoutest and oldest sewer in the The booksellers of the town are sigbing, world.

one and all, over deserted shops ; and all It will be a rich gratification to English the book-readers have given over their occuadmirers of the Royal Academy, and to pation for the summer. American admirers of Calvary church, to We are happy to see that the Courhear the inner court of the Palace of the rier des Etats Unis, of which journal we Louvre set down as “nothing remarkable.” have often spoken in terms of commenda

Of French character and disposition, how- tion, has become a daily issue. The same ever, Mr. Greeley seems to have a very paper advertises a detailed account of the fair conception, as this bit of a late letter remarkable trial of the Count de Bocarmé. will show :

Mr. Barnes, the enterprising pub “ The Frenchman's pleasures are all social; lisher of John-street, has just issued nes to eat, drink or spend the evening alone editions of Walter Colton's “ Ship and would be a weariness to him: he reads his Shore, and " Athens and Constantinople,* newspaper in the thoroughfare or the public (or, as it is now named) “ Land and Lee." gardens: he talks more in one day than an They are both of them charming records of Englishman in three: the theatres, balls, concerts, dc., which to the islander afford travel, and with their salt air odorous about occasional recreation are to him a nightly them, will prove most delightful coolers for necessity: he would be lonely and misera- a summer in the country. ble without them. Nowhere is amuse- Mr. Colton was a graphic narrator, and ment more systematically, sedulously sought joined to his moral teaching an occasional than in Paris; nowhere is it more abundant or accessible. For boys just escaped from spice of wit, which is the very thing to put school or paternal restraint, intent on enjoy. piquancy into a book for good people. ment and untroubled by conscience of fore. -Lady Willoughby's Diary" of the cast, this must be a rare city. Its people, old time is just issued by the same house. as a community, have signal good qualities Its quaintness, good sense, and antique and grave defects: they are intelligent, vivacious

, courteous, obliging, generous, and hu- phraseology will actually occupy the attenmane; eager to enjoy, but willing that all tion of all ladies who wish to eompare the the world should enjoy with them ; while at mother of the seventeenth century with the the raine time they are impulsive, fickle, mother of to-day. Mr. PICKERING's issue of sensual, and irreverent Paris is the Para- the same book added quaintness of type to dise of the Senses ; a focus of enjoyment, not of happiness. Nowhere are youth and quaintness of matter ; but the edition of Mr. its capacities more prodigally lavished; no

Barnes is neat, readable, and equal to any where is old age less happy or less respected.” | of the reprints of the day.

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One of the first objects of attraction in of the long corridor of the committee-rooms, London for the stranger, must necessarily that on the north to the Commons' lobby be the new Houses of Parliament. They and House, and that on the south to the are certainly the most noticeable of all the Lords. These splendid approaches occupy architectural displays in England. altogether fully fifteen times the capacity

Critics have quarrelled much with the of either House. The royal approach (from finical character of the work, and with the the great tower at the southwest corner) profusion of ornament; but their purpose, also fills about thrice the space taken by their size, their cost, and their durability the House of Lords, and includes, besides must excite always a great deal of wonder robing-rooms, &c., a splendid lobby, about and of curiosity.

45 ft. square, and a gallery 110 feet long, The present magnificent pile was erected 45 wide, and 45 high, being the largest room after designs by Barry. There has been in the modern palace. Its decoration is no limit in the matter of cost; the final hardly yet begun. That of the House of and entire expense is estimated at sums Lords itself is nearly complete, and it has varying from twenty to fifty millions of been used since April, 1847. It may be pounds.

seen, during the session, on Wednesdays, The portions of the interior finished and between 11 and 4, by an order from the accessible to the public are the committee- Lord Chamberlain, (which is obtainable at rooms (occupying the greater portion of the an office near the temporary entrance ;) or river front) and the two legislative chambers, without an order, on the days of bearing which are in the centres of the northern and appeals, when the House, being a judicial southern halves of the building. The gen- court, is of course open. It is (if not intrineral public entrance, when complete, will be sically, at least effectively) the richest chamthrough Westminster Hall, up a flight of ber erected since the fall of the medieval steps at its south end, into a square vaulted church architecture ; a gorgeous effect being vestibule, called St. Stephen's Porch; thence, produced by gilding all the mouldings, turning east, up another flight, and along (which include the whole of the stone and the “St. Stephen's Hall,” a fine passage, most of the woodwork,) and covering the but a very poor substitute, alas ! for the remaining surfaces with minute colored patEdwardian chapel it replaces, into the octa- terns. The House is nearly an exact double gon hall, in the centre of the whole edifice. cube of 45 ft.; the ceiling divided by crossThis is about 60 ft. in diameter, and the ing beams into 18 squares, corresponding same in height, covered by a massive Gothic to the arched compartments of the walls, dome, on which is to be raised a light open which are all similar, except that the six on stone lantern and spire nearly 300 ft. high, each side are occupied by windows with which are an addition to the original design. colored devices, and the three at each end From hence three passages will branch : by frescoes, a species of painting now first that straightforward leading to the centre attempted in England.

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