Montmartre and Pere la Chaise, will, it is hoped, be less abundant than usual.

The Carnival is ended; but its noisy joys yet ring in one's ears. Shut your eyes, and you seem still to be in the blazing lights of a masked ball at the opera. The indefatigable Musard reigns over his thun dering orchestra; thousands of nimble dancers "trip the light fantastic toe;" pierrots wave their long weird sleeves; devils waltz with angels; savages whisper gracious nonsense to pretty little sailorboys; solemn-looking druids astonish you by boisterous mirth; priests and judges in their long robes shout forth " Maitre Corbeau," and other favorite songs of the quartier latin; British generals embrace lovely French nymphs as tenderly as if, between them, at least, l'entente cordiale remains unbroken. In short, all kinds of costumes, many of them more grotesque than beautiful, and most of them worn by persons who appear to delight in belying the characters which they should support, float by in the mazy dance, while the light jest and the quick repartee are exchanged, and intrigue adds its zest to the enchantments of the scene.

Unlike Rome and Venice, Paris no longer presents in its streets the animated scenes of other days, during this festive season. The Carnival now shuns the open day, and contents itself with the ferocious nights of the ball at the opera, or with the distorting attitudes of the living incarnations of mazourkas, polkas, rondolas and other cachuchas, at the Variétés. Besides the countless public ball-rooms that were nightly filled with gay masqueraders, the balls of society caught the mania of the time, and Venetian, Hungarian and Spanish costumes have alternately figured in the most fashionable saloons. The Duke of Nemours himself has lately given (since the soirée in which he attempted to revive the fashions of the last century,) a brilliant ball of pierrots and pierrettes. At the Hungarian ball, by the way, it is whispered that certain contraband beauties were smuggled in, and thus the Bohemian dress was worn by several fascinating gipsies of Paris.

On dimanche gras, the weather was so bad that the promenade of the bœuf gras (called Monte Cristo, from the name of a character in one of Alexander Dumas' most popular novels,) was but a pitiful affair. On Mardi gras, the huge ox, garlanded like his heathen prototype, the bull Apis, and escorted by musicians, municipal guards and troops of maskers, with a gaily ornamented car which bore a little child and several persons wearing allegorical costumes, went to the Tuilleries to receive the salutations of the royal family. After some of the maskers had "danced before the king," according to the ancient cus

toms, the motley procession moved on through the principal streets, which were crowded with people. But the weather was still unfavorable for the promenade, which has lost almost all its traditionary splendor. And the rain made sad havoc upon that grotesque army of Turks, Spaniards, Arabs and Greeks, mingled with Troubadours and Ioway Indians. At the Descent of the Constille, the following morning, the dancers from all the innumerable ball-rooms of the city, came in every kind of vehicle, and in all sorts of costumes, to the Place de la Constille, just outside of one of the barriers, where they bid farewell to the Carnival. Few foreigners venture here, unless quite sure of being familiar with the French language, as well as skilled in the art of boxing. No one who has not witnessed it can form an idea of the indescribable scene of folly and brutal excitement which is presented by the thousands who crowd hither as spectators, but themselves act the drama. As I have elsewhere said, one cannot refrain from thinking how bloody the drama might be, and how bloody has been many a drama enacted by this same people. It is here, in these swarming groups, in these faces, haggard with want, and yet lit up by smiles of drunken hilarity, that the stranger should make his studies of the people. The foolish boys and girls who flaunt by, and shame the day-light by their noisy and indecent frivolity, form a very trifling part of what one finds to see at la descent de la Constille. The real spectacle lies deeper-in the life of the moving masses around them-and is a tragedy, not a comedy; food for tears and not for laughter.

The Carnival is over. But Paris is gay Paris still; and although Lent has commenced, the nocturnal fêtes of the capital are scarcely interrupted. The Faubourg St. Honoré, the Faubourg St. Germain, and the Chaussée d'Antin, continue each to be the theatre of a permanent illumination. There are few illustrious hotels in either of these quarters which have not been open to the dance during the past fortnight. In short, balls are the order of the day, or rather of the night, as much as ever. They are inspired by all sorts of motives, but particularly by those of a benevolent nature. Of this kind have been the greatest balls of the season; as, for example, at the Salle Hertz, for the British Charitable Fund; at the hotel of the Princess Ozartoriska, for the exiled Poles; the last, by the by, of a brilliant series which for years have enlivened the Parisian winters; at the Odeon, last Saturday evening, in behalf of indigent artists; and at other places, too numerous to mention. On the 6th of March there will be a ball for the Association of dramatic artists; and a few days

later, at the opera, for the poor of the twelve arrondissements. It is thus the Frenchman delights to snatch a pleasure while he confers a favor. Elsewhere, Charity is serious; at Paris, she dances the polka.

In the midst of all these amusements, serious affairs are not neglected, and the great political questions of the day occupy the public mind. The discussion of the paragraphs in the royal speech, relative to the Spanish marriage, and the incorporation of Cracow, led, as was anticipated, to a great trial of rhetorical strength between Guizot and Thiers. By the way, a Frankfort journal has published a letter from Vienna, which states that the phrase inserted in the address of the Chamber of Deputies, relatively to the treaties, and to the release, by the fact of their violation, of the other powers from the obligations imposed by them, has excited great sensation in the capital of Austria." It is probable enough," adds the writer, "that categorical explanations will be demanded by the three northern powers, on this important and delicate point." Certain remarks which fell from the lips of the minister, during the discussion, offended Lord Normanby, the British ambassador, in such a manner as to add an almost personal quarrel between them to the preexisting difficulties of their official relations. This circumstance, of course, has not tended to hasten a reconciliation between the cabinets of the two nations. And although the address was voted by a large majority, who thus gave their adherence to the policy pursued, at home and abroad, by the government; yet this vote does not appear, in the opinion of the public, to have destroyed the causes of inquietude excited by internal embarrassments and external complications. The solution of present difficulties, and of those which existing foreign relations predict as possible, may fall, (if we are to believe the reports of the week,) if not upon a new ministry, at least upon one largely modified. Among the proceedings of the past week in the Chambers, I notice particularly the adoption of a project for augment ing, temporarily, by 10,000 men, the effective force of the army, and the examination of another for authorizing the Bank of France to issue notes of 250 francs. It is hoped that the committee will consult the convenience of the mercantile community sufficiently to reduce the sum proposed to 100 francs. Of three projects presented to the Minister of Finance, that which most interests us is the establishment of lines of Transatlantic steamers between the French ports and those of North and South America. The bread question, news from the foreign markets which must supply those of France with bread-stuffs, and the

financial difficulties which their scarcity may occasion, have occupied the minds of the community during the week. The sufferings of the indigent classes receive, as they deserve, universal sympathy. The Moniteur of yesterday published a law affording an extraordinary relief of 2,000,000 francs to the hospitals, bureaus of charity and benevolent institutions. The municipal council of Paris pursues with activity the execution of numerous works which while they contribute to the health and embellishment of the city, are mainly designed to furnish employment to laborers. The opening of a new boulevard in the Faubourg St. Antoine, the most populous and wretched quarter of the capital, and of several streets, as well as the proposed erection of a new building for the Royal Library on the same site which it occupies, and of other public structures, will contribute materially to the accomplishment of this object. Supplying the destitute with employment is the truest form of charity. This was the apparently (perhaps merely apparently) favorable feature of Lord George Bentick's great Irish Railroad bill, upon the fate of which the present British Cabinet, a few days since, staked their existence, and won.

Paris is the great centre of political news from all quarters of the globe. The newspapers, at this moment, do not lack for topics. The recent concentration of Russian troops on the frontiers of Austrian and Prussian Poland, and extensive military preparations on the part of Austria, indicate a determination to be ready for any consequences of the menaces of certain powers. To say nothing of the incorporation of Cracow as a possible cause of conflict, the dispositions of the Italians, whose unquiet spirit has been only momentarily calmed by the reforms of the Pope, are too well known not to account for the necessity of measures of defence against dangers that threaten the Austrian dominion in the south. It is said that France has been in. fluenced in recalling under her flag all the soldiers absent on furlough, by her watchful observation of these movements of troops in Eastern Europe. The French journals congratulate Prussia upon having at length entered on the road to constitutional gov. ernment, by the promulgation, on the 3d of February, of the letters patent, so long expected, by which Frederic William IV. creates the institution of the Assembled Diet. In Spain, which has also made great advances, this year past, towards constitutional liberty, the taking of the city of Cervera, by the Carlists, has caused great excitement at Madrid. The events of Portugal daily assume an aspect of more grave importance. The report of the most cruel and arbitrary act of the civil war raging in this unhappy kingdom is fully confirmed.

And the prisoners of Torres-Vedras, huddled together into a small vessel, have, in spite of the protestations of the British minister, and the indignation of the populace, been hurried off to the insalubrious shores of Africa. "Is a white slave-trade more allowable than that of black?" is the question of all who have heard of this unwarrantable treatment of men who are sons of those who placed Donna Maria on the throne. The great fires which have recently devastated portions of Constantinople are ascribed, by some, to the evil eye with which the old Mussulmen look upon the rapid introduction of European improvements, and, particularly, the closing of the slave-markets. A recent proclamation of Marshal Bugeaud to the Arabians, informs them that while the French sovereign will be generous and merciful on condition of submission, there will otherwise be "nothing else than powder" for Abd elKader. Perhaps there will be, as heretofore, more powder than ball-more efforts than success-in trying to catch this redoubtable and unseizable chieftain. To complete this paragraph of brief political items-the continued disorders at Tahiti bring "rumors of wars" even from the distant isles of the Pacific.

In the scientific circles of Paris the experiments with sulphuric ether still furnish a topic of discussion. Several communications on this subject have been presented to the Academy. The decease of another member of this learned body, a few days since, has added to the number of deaths which have recently opened so many places of honor and emolument to the struggling ambitions of this metropolis. At the funeral of M. Guiraud, a discourse was pronounced by M. Lebrun, director of the Academy, who stated this was the thirty-third time within twenty years that he had followed an academical associate to the grave.

February has not fallen behind the preceding month in the number and value of its contributions to science and literature. Jules Janin, the most accomplished writer of the French press, has delighted the Parisians by his Gateau des Rois--an exquisite fantasy of the season-a poem in his inimitable prose. De Lamartine's History of the Girondins; Louis Blanc's History of the Revolution, which is rather too radical in its tone for the taste of the Legitimatists who aided so materially the success of his History of Ten Years; Michelet's History, which introduces the people as a more intelligent as well as efficient agent than has generally been supposed, in the events of the Revolution; and several other serious works of high order enjoy a vogue that in another age would have exclusively belonged to frivolous romances. A work on Parliamentary and Electoral Reform, by M.

Duvargier de Hauranne, and another on the Congress of Vienna, in its relations to the actual circumstances of Europe, by M. Capefigue, have appeared very seasonably during this month. An unusual number of relations of scientific voyages have been published-among which one of the most important is the voyage of a Scientific Commission to the North Pole, during 1838, 1839, and 1840.

The theatrical event of the week has been the opening of the Theatre Historique, which, with its elegant decorations, has been improvised with as much rapidity as the written works of Dumas, the father of the enterprise. The first representation of his Reine Margot took place the other evening, and the brilliant audience which thronged to see it were detained there until nearly three o'clock in the morning. So much for the dramatic devotion of the Parisians. A third lyric theatre, to be called the Theatre des Arts, will shortly be opened. Hamlet is announced for this evening at the Theatre Francais.

The Tribunals have presented, this month, several unusually interesting cases. Alphonse Constard, an enthusiast, has been condemned for a pamphlet entitled "The Voice of Famine," which is full of insensate theories and violent invectives, tending to excite the mutual hatred of different classes of society. The attempt, indirectly originating with the Archbishop of Paris, to obtain the confiscation of certain devotional books published without his permission, was a failure. The acquittal of the editor of the National for an alleged offence against the political inviolability of the king's person, by an article on the Spanish marriages, was a proof that in an age, not of tolerance, but of liberty, prosecutions of the press are almost always useless and unseasonable. The trial, at Angers, of Drouillard, a Parisian banker, who has been condemned to heavy fines, a year's imprisonment, and five years' suspension of all his civic rights, for frauds in the last elections, has revealed a mass of facts which show the urgent necessity of electoral reform in France. But the most singular cases before the courts during the past month, are those in which figure the names of certain literary celebrities. The history of the process instituted against Alexander Dumas, for violation of engagements with his publisher, would furnish a new and interesting chapter for D'Israeli's Curiosities of Literature. Nothing is more surprising than the inexhaustible fertility of this author's genius, unless it is the enormous amount of compensation which he receives for his productions. The same fact-the high price paid in Paris for the labors of the pen-is illustrated on the trial, this week, of Eugene Sue, on similar charges. For example, Dumas has been

offered 100,000 francs per annum for ten volumes, on the condition of engaging to write nothing else during that period: and Eugene Sue made a contract for thirteen years and six months, to furnish from four to six volumes annually, for each of which he was to receive 10,000 francs. But the most exorbitant price is that which was paid by the editor of the Presse to De Lamartine, for the right of publishing, in 1848,

the poet's " Confidences," a single volume, for 40,000 francs, that is, eight thousand dollars. This fact was developed during a lawsuit in which De Lamartine is indirectly interested, and which occupied the Civil Tribunal of the Seine day before yesterday. Many a man's" confidences" cost dearly enough, but it is rare that one gets so well paid for them.

The Prose Writers of America, with a Survey of the History, Condition and Prospects of American Literature. By RUFUS WILMOT GRISWOLD. Illustrated with portraits from original pictures. Philadelphia: Carey & Hart. 1847.

Such is the title of a large octavo, which from its name and pretensions alone, had the book no merit in itself, we should, at some time, feel bound to discuss with more care, and at more length, than we have now the time or the space to bestow.

It is a carefully printed book; indeed, the Philadelphia house of Carey & Hart is doing very well in this matter, and in many of its late issues, such as the New Timon, &c., is deserving much of those readers who like books for what is inside, and not for what is outside.

To return-Mr. Griswold's book is said also to be carefully edited; of this we hardly dare yet express an opinion; we should think, however, that it had been edited with caution, though perhaps not caution enough. And caution to what

end?

It would require somewhat to make it a just book; it would require still more to make it a popular book. We have the charity to believe that Mr. Griswold had the first end in view: and having eyes, we see plainly that he had the last end in view. How far he has succeeded in attainment of the first end-supposing it was an end— would be an inquiry involving that full discussion of the merits of the book, which, time and will permitting, may, at a future period, engross some dozen of our pages. How far the book is made popular, needeth not much critical talk to demonstrate. Old authors-since authors are never tired of listening to their praises-will consult the new epitome of their excellences, with an interest as sincere as it will be well concealed; and new authors will seize upon it, as full of hope as of doubt; and if, unfortunately, they be disappointed in finding

no niche within the body-the rotunda, as it were—of Mr. Griswold's Symmetric Pantheon, they may, perhaps, be won to smiles on finding their names written upon the walls, inside a wreath of artificial flowers, of some little side-chapel-some quiet al. cove of the fabric; for Mr. Griswold's notes are full and long, and shrewdly conceived, and replete with such names as, with all his goodness of heart, he could not safely put in a more conspicuous place.

Again, there are a great many talking, well-read men, who want to know just so much of American writers as to talk of them fluently, without knowing them at all; to such the book commends itself most entirely. There are school-boys who will steal compositions from the fragments of essays, and thank Mr. Griswold for saving them a cudgelling, except, indeed, they choose such excerpts as that a shrewd pedagogue shall suspect the boy of not writing them himself.

It is just the book, again, for parlorreaders to lie upon the table, to be snatched up in the intervals of nursing sick babies, or to furnish chit-chat of an evening. And there are scores of literary spinsters who will bless Mr. Griswold for giving ages, and little family details about their "loves" of authors; and if the editor's imagination-and from a rapid glance at the book, we believe him to be capable of imaginative work-had painted some of the bachelor authors in more glowing terms, and dropped dates, and furthermore dropped wives, the popularity of the book with the class last designated would have been as flattering to the publishers as it would have been just to the editor.

The book is a picture-book in more senses than one; it has engravings mezzotinted by Sartain. We wish we could speak well of them; but we cannot. They are execrable; and it needs all the editor's laudation to atone for the engraver's abuse. If Mr. Prescott looks one half so silly as his picture-which we do not believe-it