Frenchman, bread is most emphatically the staff of life. He consumes more of it at one meal than an Englishman does at four. In France, the little comparative quantity of bread which the English consume, is considered to form a part of their national character.

Before I left Paris, I was requested to visit a very curious and interesting exhibition, the Museum of French Monuments; for the reception of which, the ancient convent of the monks of the Order of les Petits Augustines is appropriated. This national institution is intended to exhibit the progress of monumental taste in France, for several centuries past, the specimens of which have chiefly been collected from St. Denis, which formerly was the burial place of the monarchs of France, and from other churches.

It will be remembered by the reader, that in the year 1793, Henriot, a vulgar and furious republican, proposed setting off for the former church, at the head of the sans culottes, to destroy all these curious and valuable relics, "to strike," as he said, "the tyrants in their tombs;" but was prevented by some other republicans of influence, who had not parted with their veneration for works of taste, from this impious and and impotent outrage,

In the first hall, which is very large, and impresses a similar awe to that which is generally felt upon entering a cathedral, are the tombs of the twelfth century. Amongst them I chiefly distinguished that of Henry II. upon which are three beautiful mourning figures, supporting a cup, containing his heart.

In the second hall, are the monuments of the thirteenth century: most of them are very fine; that of Lewis XII. and his queen is well worthy of no tice. I did not find much to gratify me in the hall of the fourteenth century. In that of the fifteenth cen tury are several noble tombs, and beautiful windows of stained glass. In the hall of the sixteenth century is a fine statue of Henry IV. by Franchville, which is

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considered to be an admirable likeness of that wonderful man, In the hall of the seventeenth century, is a noble figure, representing religion, by Girardon.

In the cloisters are several curious statues, stained glass windows, and tesselated pavement. There is here also a good bust of Alexis Peron, with this singular epitaph,

Ci git qui ne fut rien,

Pas même académicien." In the square garden within the cloisters, are several ancient urns and tombs. Amongst them is the vase which contains the ashes, if any remain, of Abelard and Heloise, which has been removed from the Paraclete to the Museum. It is covered with the graceful shade of an Acacia tree, which seems to wave proudly over its celebrated deposit. Upon approaching this treasurable antique, all those feelings rushed in upon me, which the beautiful and affecing narrative of those disastrous lovers, by Pope, has of ten excited in me. The melancholy Heloise seemed to breathe from her er tomb here

"If ever chance two wand'ring lovers brings, To Paraclete's white walls and silver springs. O'er the pale marble shall they join their heads, And drink the falling tear each other sheds: Then sadly say, with mutual pity mov'd, Oh! may we never love as these have lov'd." National guards are stationed in every apartment of the Museum, and present rather an unaccording appearance amidst the peaceful solemnity of the surrounding objects. This exhibition is not yet completed, but, in its present condition, is very interesting. Some hints, not altogether uselesss, may be collected from it. In England our churches are charnel bouses. The pews of the congregation are raised upon foundations of putrefaction. For six days and nights the temple of devotion is filled with the pestilent vapours of the dead, and on the seventh they are absorbed by the living. Surely it is high

time to subdue prejudices which endanger health without promoting piety. The Scotch bury their dead upon the confines of their towns. The eye of adoration is filled with a pensive pleasure, in observing itself surrounded with the edeavours of taste and ingenuity, to lift the remembrance of the great and good beyond the grave, in that very spot where the frailty of our nature is so often inculcated,

Such a display, in such a place, is rational, suitable, and admonitory. The silent tomb becomes auxiliary to the eloquence of the pulpit. But the custom which converts the place of worship into a catacomb, can afford but a mistaken consolation to posthumous pride, and must, in some degree, contaminate the atmosphere contained within its walls.

The married women of France feel no compunctious visitings of conscience in cherishing about them a circle of lovers, amongst whom their husbands are merely more favoured than the rest. I hope I shall not be considered as an apologist for an indulgence which, in France, excites no jealousy in one, and no surprise amongst the many, when I declare, that I confidently believe, in most instances, it commences, and guiltlessly terminates, in the love of admiration. I know, and visited in Paris, a most lovely accomplished young woman, who had been married about two years. She admitted the visits of men who she knew were passionately fond of her. Sometimes she received them in the presence and sometimes in the absence of her husband, as accident not arrangement directed. They approached her with all the agitation and tenderness of the most ardent lovers. Amongst the number was a certain celebrated orator: this man was her abject slave; a glance from her expressive eye raised him to the summit of bliss, or rendered his nights sleepless. The complacent husband of Madame G regarded these men as his most beloved friends, because they enlarged the happiness of his wife; and, strange as it may appear, I believe that

he had as little cause to complain as Othello, and therefore never permitted his repose to be disturbed by those suspicions which preyed upon the vitals of the hapless Moor.

I visited one evening a very beautiful exhibition, which I think worthy of being noticed; it was the picturesque and mechanical theatre. The company present were select and genteel; the room and stage were upon a small scale; the former was very elegantly fitted up. The spectacle consisted of scenery and appropriate little moving figures. The first scene was a view of a wood in early morning: every object looked blue, fresh, and dewy. The gradations of light, until the approach of meridian day, were admirably represented. Serpents were seen crawling in the grass; a little sportsman entered with his fowlingpiece, and imitated all the movements natural to his pursuit; a tiny wild duck rose from a lake, and flew before him. He pointed his gun, changed his situa tion, pointed it again, and fired: the bird dropped: he threw it over his shoulders, fastened to his gun, and retired. Waggons drawn by horses about four inches high, passed along; groups of peasantry followed, exquisitely imitating all the indications of life. Amongst several other scenes was a beautiful view of the bay of Naples, and the great bridge; over which little horses with their riders passed in the various paces of walking, trotting, and gallopping. All the minutiæ of nature were attended to. The ear was beguiled with the patting of horses' hoofs upon the pavement; and some of the little animals reared and ran before the others. There were also some charming little sea-pieces, in which the vessels sailed with their heads towards the spectators, and manœuvred in a surprising manner. The whole concluded with a sform and shipwreck. Sailors were seen floating in the water, then sinking in the surge. One of them rose again, and reached a rock: boats put off to his relief, and perished in the attempt; the little figure

was seen displaying the greatest agonies. The storm subsided; tiny persons appeared upon the top of a projecting cliff, near a watch-tower, and lowered a rope to the little sufferer below, which he caught, and, after ascending to some height by it, overwhelmed with fatigued, lost his hold: after recovering from his fall, he renewed his efforts, and at length reached the top in safety, amidst the acclamations of the spectators, who, moved by this enchanting little illusion, took much interest in the apparent distress of the scene."

An invention has lately made its appearance in Paris, which is as full of utility as it is of genius. A house has been lately opened for the sale of filtrating and purifying vases, to which the ingenious constructor has given the most elegant Etruscan shapes. They are capable of refining the most fetid and corrupt water, by a process which, in its operation, lasts about four minutes. The principle is the same as in nature. The foul water is thrown into the vase, where it passes through various strata of earth, which are compressed in a series of little apartments, which retain its offensive particles, and from which it issues as clear and as sweet as rock water. This discovery Will prove of infinite consequence to families who reside in the maritime parts of Holland, and to many inland towns in France, where the water is frequently very bad. I most cordially hope that the inventor will meet with the remuneration which is due to his humane philosophy.

After having experienced a most cordial display of kindnesses and hospitalities, I prepared to return to my own country, "that precious stone set in the silver sea." I had to part with those who, in the short space of one fleeting month, had, by their endearing and flattering attentions, rivetted themselves to my affections, with the force of a long, and frequent and cherished intercourse; who, in a country where I expected to feel the comfortless sensations of