solemnities of Lepelletier, who was assassinated by Paris, in which his taste and intimate knowledge of the ceremonies of the ancients, on similar occasions, were eminently displayed.

Farewell, David! when years have rolled away, and time has mellowed the works of thy sublime pencil, in mercy mayest thou be remembered only as their creator; may thy fame repose herself upon the tableau of the dying Socrates, and the miraculous passage of the Alpine hero; may the ensanguined records of thy political phrensy moulder away, and may science, who knew not blood till thou wert known, whose pure and hallowed inspirations have made men happier and better, till thou wert born, implore for thee forgiveness, and, whilst with rapture she points to the immortal images of thy divine genius, may she cover with an impenetrable pall, the pale, shuddering and bleeding victims of thy sanguinary soul!

After leaving the gallery of David, la Place de la Concorde attracted my attention. This ill-fated spot, from its spaciousness, and beauty of situation, has always been the theatre of the great fêtes of the nation, as well as the scene of its greatest calamities. When the nuptials of the late king and queen were celebrated, the magnificent fireworks, shows, and illuminations which followed, were here displayed. During the exhibition, a numerous banditti, from Normandy, broke in upon the vast assemblage of spectators: owing to the confusion which followed, and the fall of some of the scaffolding, the supporters of which were sawed through by these wretches, the disorder became dreadful and universal; many were crushed to death, and some hundreds of the people, whilst endeavouring to make their escape, were stab bed, and rubbed. The king and queen, as a mark of their deep regret, ordered the dead to be entombed in the new burial ground of l'Eglise de Madeleine, then erecting at the entrance of the Boulevard des Italiens,

the neighbourhood of the palace, under the im

mediate inspection and patronage of the sovereign. This building was never finished, and still presents to the eye a naked pile of lofty walls and columns. Alas! the gloomy auguries which followed this fatal spectacle were too truly realised. On that spot perished the monarch and his queen, and the flower of the French nobility, and many of the virtuous and enlightened men of France; and in this cemetery, their unhonoured remains were thrown, amidst heaps of headless victims, into promiscuous graves of unslacked lime!

How inscrutable are the ways of destiny!

This spot, which, from its enchanting scenery, is calculated only to recal, or to inspire the most tender, generous and elegant sentiments, which has been the favoured resort of so many kings, and the scene of every gorgeous spectacle, was doomed to become the human shambles of the brave and good, and the Gol gotha of the guillotine! In the centre, is an oblong square railing, which encloses the exact spot where formerly stood that instrument of death, as voted permanent by its remorseless employers.

It is a matter of a little surprise to observe, in the windows of the principal print-shops, prints exposed to sale, representing the late king, in his full robes of state, under which was written, Le restaurateur de la hiberté (perhaps intended for an equivoque), and also the parting interview between that unhappy sovereign and his queen and family in the temple, upon the morning of his execution."

This little circumstance will shew the confidence the present rulers feel in the strength and security of the present government; for such representations are certainly calculated to excite feelings, and to restore impressions which might prove a little hazardous to both, were they less powerfully supported.

I was also one morning a little surprised, by hearing from my window the exhilarating song of "Rule Britannia," played upon a hand-organ; upon looking

down into the street, I beheld a Savoyard very composedly turning the handle of his musical machine, as he moved along; and a French officer humming the tune after him. Both were, no doubt, ignorant of the nationality of the song, though not of the truth of its sentiment.

In the course of one of my morning walks, I went to the metropolitan abbey of Notre Dame, which is situated at the end of a large island in the Seine, which forms a part of Paris, and is filled with long narrow streets. It is a fine Gothic pile, but, in my humble opinión, much inferior to our Westminster Abbey, and to the great churches of Rouen.

From this building I visited, with a large party, the celebrated Museum, or Palace of Arts, which I afterwards generally frequented every other day.

This inestimable collection contains one thousand and thirty paintings, considered to be the chefs d'œu yre of the great ancient masters, and is a treasury of human art and genius, unknown to the most renowned of former ages, and far surpassing every other institution of the same nature, in the present times.

The first apartment is about the size of the exhibition room of Somerset-house, and lighted, as that is, from above. It contains several exquisite paintings, the fruits of Buonaparte's triumphs, or which have been presented to him by those sovereigns who have cultivated his alliance. The Parisians call this apartment Buonaparte's nosegay. The most costly pictures in the room are from the gallery of the grand Duke of Tuscany. Amongst so many works, all exquisite and beautiful, it is almost temerity to attempt to select; but if I might be permitted to name those which pleased me most, I should particularise the Ecce Homo, by Cigoli Ludovico Cardi.

The breast of the mild and benevolent Saviour, striped with the bruises of recent punishment, and his heavenly countenance, benignly looking forgiveness upon his executioners, are beautifully delineated.

L'annonciation, by Gentileschi, in which the divine look of the angel, the graceful plumage of his wings, and the drapery of the Virgin, are incomparable. La Sagesse chassante les Vices, which is a very ancient and curious painting, by Andrea Mantegna, in which the figure of Idleness, without arms, is wonderfully conceived. Les Noces de Cana, by Paul Veronese, considered to be the best of his works, is the largest painting I ever beheld. The figures seated at the banquet are chiefly the portraits of contemporary royal personages of different nations. From this room we passed into the gallery of the Louvre.

Adequately to describe the first impressions which were awakened upon first entering it, and contemplating such a galaxy of art and genius, would be impossible. This room is one thousand two hundred feet long, and is lined with the finest paintings of the French, Flemish, and Italian schools, and is divided by a curious double painting upon slate, placed upon a pedestal in the middle of the room, representing the front and back view of the same figures.

The first division of this hall contains the finest works of le Brun, many of which are upon an immense scale. L'Hyver, ou le Deluge, by Poussin, is truly sublime, but is unfortunately placed in a bad light. There are also some beautiful marine paintings, by Vernet. Les Religieuses, by Philipe de Cham pagne, is justly celebrated for the principal figure of the dying nun. Vue de Chevet d'une Eglise, by Emanuel de Witte, is an exquisite little cabinet picture, in which the effect of a ray of light shining through a painted window, upon a column, is inimitable, and the perspective is very fine. There are here also some of the finest works of Wouvermans, and a charming picture by Teniers. La Vierge, l'enfant Jesus, la Madeleine, et St. Jerome, by Antoine Allegri Correge, is considered to be a picture of great beauty and value. There are also some glorious paintings by Reubens. I have thus briefly selected

these pictures from the rest, hoping, at the same time, that it will not be inferred, that those which I have not named, of which it would be impossible to offer a description without filling a bulky volume, are inferior to the works which I have presumed to mention. The recording pen must rival that matchless pencil, which has thus adorned the walls of the Museum, before it can do justice to such a magnificent collection.

This exhibition is open to the public three days in the week, and at other times to students and strangers, upon their producing their passports. On public days, all descriptions of persons may be seen here, and the contemplation of such a mixture is not altogether uninteresting.

To amuse, may be necessary to the present government of France, but surely to supplant the wild abaudoned principles of a barbarous revolution, with new impressions, created by an unreserved display of the finest and most persuasive images of resigned suffering, heroic virtue, or elegant beauty, cannot be deemed unworthy of the ruler of a great people.

At this place, as well as at all the other national exhibitions, no money is required or expected. No person is admitted with a stick, and guards attend to preserve the pictures from injury, and the exhibition from riot. The gallery of the Louvre is at present, unfortunately, badly lighted throughout, owing to the light issuing chiefly on one side, from long windows; an inconvenience, however, which is soon to be remedied, by observing the same manner of lighting as in the adjoining apartment.

From the museum, we descended into la Salle des Antiques, which contains all the treasury of Grecian and Roman statuary. The first object to which we hastened, was the statue of Laocoon, for so many ages, and by so many writers, admired and celebrated. This superb specimen of Grecian sculpture is supposed to be the united production of Polydorus,