dulness:-long, narrow streets, with solitary lamps suspended at mournful distances in the middle, as if to point out the kennel that runs in the centre below, fraught with every kind of filth- -HOUSES as if they had been shaken in a bag, and then jumbled together without regard to order, architecture, or any kind of regularity-tawdry painted exteriors, and cheerless, gloomy interiors-FLOORS without carpets, and hearths without grates-windows admitting as much air as light-fires without heat; easily kindled, rapidly consumed, and dearly paid for!-bell-ropes without bells, and servants without attendance-tables covered with a profusion of "dishes tortured from their native taste," and terrible to think of, much more to swallow!-vegetables drowned in oil or butter for the third or fourth course, and, after the Englishman has made a wretched dinner, like a cannibal-wine like vinegar in the land of grapes!!-lastly, the BILL, (for I speak of hotels) a never-failing dessert, and often as griping as the wine, is modestly and conscientiously charged double, or nearly so, to the unfortunate ANGLOIS, who has not eaten a tithe of what his voracious Gallic messmates have consumed and pocketed! On the inhabitants of France it is not my intention to make many remarks. When I acknowledge that the men are brave and the women beautiful, I apprehend they will give me ample latitude to say any thing else that I may choose respecting them. If I were to qualify the bravery of the male sex with a dash of the bravado-the beauty of the females with a tincture of incontinence and both with a tolerable destitution of religious feeling, it would be no great deviation from truth-and no great insult to either. But, in fact, I have no reason to rail against the French. They are not only a civilized, but a civil and polite people by nature, or, at all events, by habit and education; and, considering the political animosity generated and fostered, not only by a long and sanguinary war, but also by a humiliating peace between the two nations, it is exceedingly creditable to the French to see the urbanity and politeness with which they treat their rough and uncompromising British neighbours. After making all due allowance for the influence of English gold, which is showered down on every province of France, there is still an amenity in their manners which is very far beyond the confines of this metallic meridian, and which does great honour to the domestic character of the French people. In respect to intelligence, I am of opinion, notwithstanding the hardy asseverations to the contrary, that, taking rank for rank, there is more scientific information diffused among the French than among the English. And why not? Education is of more easy access there than here-to which may be added the fact that, the French have much less employment on hand than their British neighbours, and far more time for the acquisition of literature and science. It would be unreasonable, and I think unjust, to assert that they have less desire to learn, or less capacity for knowledge than their neighbours. Be this as it may, with all their intelligence, ingenuity, and vivacity, the French are a century behind the English in almost every art or science which conduces to the comforts, the conveniences-nay, the necessaries of life. As to the religious and moral character of our Gallic brethren, I do not feel inclined to speak. It has been somewhat keenly remarked by an acute modern traveller that "It is the want of genuine piety that is at the bottoin of all the faults in the French character. Any religion is better than none; and shuddering as I did at the total absence of all such feelings in France, I looked back with less emotions of disgust to the absurd superstitions of Italy-to her bones of martyred saints, and the votive offerings that surround her altars." —Sketches of Italy. That either or both these countries should be selected by so many thousand English families for the education of their children during a residence of years in succession, is one of the "SIGNS of the TIMES." It is a culture which will bring forth blessed fruit for all parties in due time! But more of this hereafter. PARIS. One would suppose, from the height of the houses and the narrowness of the streets, that the value of ground, for building, was enormous in France, and especially near Paris. Yet, for five or six miles around the French metropolis, till you come close to the barriers, there is scarcely a house to be seen! You are as much in the country when you pass the barrier of St. Dennis as if you were one hundred miles from Paris! In no one point of view is the contrast between the British and Gallic capitals so striking as in this. The sociability of the French, and dissociability of the English are read in the geographical faces of the two countries, without examining the moral habits of the people themselves. The French are all congregated into hamlets, towns, and cities-a detached house or cottage being quite a rarity to be seen. The English, on the contrary, delight and pride themselves on separation. Hence the whole surface of the country is studded with villas and insulated dwellings of every description. The English concentrate in towns and cities chiefly for the sake of BUSINESS, and sigh for the country whenever that business is transacted. Even the metropolis affords an illustration of this proposition-except during the SEASON, when the IDLERS Concentrate annually from all parts of the kingdom to dissipate the health and wealth they had acquired or accumulated in the country. Paris is rapidly improving in appearance since the termination of the war, and the commencement of intercourse with the English. Several portions of the larger streets are imitating London by the acquisition of flag-stones for trottoirs, and gutters at the sides instead of the middle. Nothing, however, but a most destructive fire and a Gallic NASH can rescue Paris from the humiliation of presenting a striking contrast to London in the breadth and cleanliness of its streets—the comfort and security of pedestrians. The misery inflicted on the immense class of peripatetics in Paris, by the sharp stones of the pavé, continually reminds one of the tortures experienced by Peter Pindar's Pilgrim, while hobbling along the road, "Damning the souls and bodies of the peas," with which his shoes were filled as a penance for his sins! But the Fire-insurance Companies are the Goths and Vandals that will keep the streets of Paris in darkness for ages yet to come. There is now no chance of the good old times of NERO, who warmed, widened, and illuminated the streets of Rome, while fiddling to the moving multitude from his palace on the Palatine Hill! Considering that Paris is the general rendezvous of idlers, not only from all parts of France, but from all parts of Europe-and seeing with what ingenuity the inhabitants have contrived to render that lively metropolis the most attractive emporium of pleasure in the world, and, at the same time, the cheapest; it cannot be wondered at that so many thousands of our countrymen and women, over whom indulgence of the senses bears greater sway than any feelings of patriotism, should make Paris their abode. Whether this step be conducive to the welfare of their families brought up under the influence of Continental habits and example, I shall inquire farther on. In the mean time, it is to be hoped that a tax will be imposed on all expatriations not dependent on ill-health, official duties, or narrow circumstances. In walking from East to West, both in London and Paris, the march of intellect, of architecture, of elegance, and of convenience, is plainly perceptible. The contrast between Little East Cheap and Regent Street, is not more striking than between the Cité and Rue Rivoli. While following the stream of the Seine, narrow, dirty, and gloomy streets often open out suddenly into lines of splendid palaces, still, however, mixed, backed and flanked with the miserable lanes and abodes of poverty. The BOURSE, the rival of Neptune's Temple at Postum, is surrounded with filthy lanes and alleys. Paris may well be proud of this building. It is probably the most noble modern edifice now existing. The construction of this splendid fabric has produced a curious and very disagreeable effect. The moment it is entered, a noise resembling that of the distant roaring of the sea in a storm is heard, even when there are but few people moving about and conversing on the floor. This noise is really distressing to the unaccustomed ear, and is heard fully as loud on the basement as in the galleries above. EFFECTS OF TRAVELLING. 39 FONTAINBLEAU. Already have we (for I speak of a party) broken through the mal-habits imposed by the tyrant custom of Modern Babylon. Instead of repairing to bed at one o'clock in the morning, and spending eight or ten hours in fitful dreams and feverish excitement, without any real refreshment, we now dine, or rather sup, at 8 o'clock, when the journey is concluded—go to repose at 10-and sleep without interruption till 6 in the morning, when we are able to spring from our couches with renovated strength and spirits. This systematic mode of living is probably one of the principal causes of the salubrity of travelling. Among the many curious effects resulting from this species of exercise, I shall remark two which are deserving of notice. Travelling produces a considerable diminution of weight in most people who combine the active with the passive species of exercise-apparently by promoting absorption of fat. A little pampered dog that made one of the party, lost flesh, or rather fat daily, while allowed to run up the hills when the carriages were proceeding slowly. Our paunchy aldermen ought to travel through Switzerland, eating little and walking much, by which they would certainly return, in due time, to human shape. The other effect of travelling is very curious, and has not been noticed, as far as I am acquainted, by any writer. It is this-that the exercise of body taken on the road, or while wandering about seeing objects of curiosity, is not favourable to intellectual operations. It is probable that a high range of health, indeed, is incompatible with the most vigorous exertion of the mind, and that this last both requires and induces a standard of health somewhat below par. It would not be difficult to shew that the majority of those who have left behind them imperishable monuments of their intellectual powers and exertions, were people of weak bodily health. Virgil, Horace, Voltaire, Pope, and a thousand others might be quoted in illustration. Be this as it may, it is certain that travelling exercise, while it so much improves all the bodily functions, unhinges and unfits the mind, pro tempore, for the vigorous exercise of its higher faculties. I much doubt whether the immortal effusions of Byron were penned immediately after the impressions were made on his mind by the Rhine, the Alps, the lakes of Helvetia, the ruins of Italy and of Greece, with all their classical and historical associations. But the first excitement being over, the memory of scenes and circumstances, together with the reflections and recollections attendant thereon, furnish an ardent mind with rich materials and trains of thought that may, by gifted individuals, be converted into language, and thus conveyed to thousands. Pure DESCRIPTION is, perhaps, the humblest species of mental exercise. It is little more than the notation or record of impressions received through the medium of the senses-as those resulting from a rugged road, a steep mountain, or a rapid river. It requires but seeing, hearing, feeling, tasting, and smelling, with moderate knowledge, attention, and some command of language, to be able to convey to others descriptions of what we ourselves have seen or felt, as far at least as these can be conveyed in words. It indicates a more active state of the intellect, when we come to reflect on the impressions conveyed by the senses. Thus, in some minds, the sight of a rapid stream or a foaming cataract, would lead to a contemplation of that mysterious law by which every particle of matter on the surface of the globe is urged towards its centre-and by which, of course; a fluid is compelled to move onwards to the common destination, when the solid body on which it rests deviates from the horizontal line. This, again, would induce reflections on the wonderful operation of the same law (gravitation) by which the waters that fall from the clouds are collected from millions of divergent points, to re-unite in one common central mass, the lake or the ocean, whence they are to ascend once more into the clouds, and run the same perpetual round to the end of time. Such descriptions and reflections are, no doubt, compatible with the bustle and distraction of TRAVELLING; but when we come to the higher intellectual operations-descriptions of human nature itself, with all its passions, and the consequences of those passions-such as we see in Lord Byron's works, then there is reason to believe that the said operations required and had the advantage of leisure, repose, or even solitude, with a certain degree of tranquillity of mind, before they were executed. That this was the case, may be inferred from his own words. When alluding to the Lake of Geneva, he says, "There is too much of man here, to look through But soon in me shall loneliness renew Thoughts hid, but not less cherished than of old!" JOIGNY. We were now in the very heart of the wine country-the head-quarters of BACCHUS where generous Burgundy was flowing in every direction, being the height of the vintage. Yet the towns and villages presented the very image of desolation, poverty, and despair! Before retiring to rest, I wandered over this ancient town; and so squalid a picture of want and decay I never beheld on this side of the Alps. It seemed as if the conscription of Napoleon was still in full operation-as if all effective strength-every thing that could carry a musket, serve for a mark to be shot at, or furnish any materiel of war, had been swept away, and nothing left but old men and women, dirty chil |