gambling appears to pervade all classes. The labourer who has toiled all day for a franc or two will play it away or double it at night. This vice however is not attended with its usual concomitant of intemperance. No other kind of drink is taken in the room, than a glass of lemonade or of light table beer, which is furnished gratuitously.

The games of chance are-rouge et noir, roulette, trente et un, and par et impar-played with cards, and with balls thrown into a wheel set in motion. With one slight exception, the chances appear to be exactly even, and the play is doubtless managed with fairness. The gains of the table are calculated on chiefly from the natural operations of the human passions. Novices will come in, and after losing all their money, are obliged to quit; or if they at first chance to win, the intoxication of good fortune leads them on, till her favours are reversed. Large banks, which are licensed by the government and form a lucrative source of revenue, enable the managers to make their calculations independent of temporary losses. They are however susceptible of being exhausted of their funds. is said that Mr. Baring of London went to one of the tables with £20,000, and did not quit it till he had broken the bank.* Others have tried the experiment to their sorrow, and immense fortunes have been lost in a single night.

It

The central situation of the Palais Royal, and the crowds of people who daily resort thither on business and pleasure, have led to many improvements in the vicinity, and among the rest to the construction of several Passages, opening from one principal street to another, through blocks of buildings, and all the way under cover. They are occupied as extensive bazars, consisting of a connected series of stores of every description, where ladies may do their shopping without damping their feet in the worst weather. Some of them are very splendid, particularly at night, when the shops are brilliantly lighted up with gas. The improvement has increased the value of property ten-fold. In my opinion, the plan might be successfully imitated in some central part of New-York, say from Broadway to one of the parallel streets.†

*The author of Lacon, who wields the rateau with as much dexterity as the pen, and who finds gambling more profitable than authorship, is said to have carried away 55,000 francs, or $11,000, won at a single sitting at Frascati's, in the course of the last winter.

+ When the foregoing paragraph was written, I little expected to find on my return a Passage in our metropolis, surpassing in elegance any thing of the kind to be found in Paris. The galleries, in the arcades between Maiden-lane and Johnstreet, are entirely original, so far as my observation extends, and add much to the splendour of this beautiful bazar. It is also more tastefully lighted, than any one I have elsewhere examined.

One of our earliest visits was to the Palace of the Luxembourg, embracing the Chamber of Peers, situated half a mile from the south bank of the Seine. It has some interesting historical associations. During the Revolution, it was converted into a prison, in which were confined many of the celebrated public characters of that period. It was afterwards occupied by the Republican Senate, and is now appropriated to the Chamber of Peers. In extent, architecture, and magnificence, it is among the first edifices in Paris. The length of its principal front is 360 feet, and of the other sides, 300 feet, standing round a spacious court. It is crowned by a lofty and beautiful dome, which is visible from all parts of the city. The garden and grounds attached to it are scarcely surpassed by the Tuilleries in dimensions and artificial embellishments, forming one of the hundred delightful promenades in the metropolis. They are laid out in wide gravel walks and parterres, and adorned with fountains, groves, and statues.

The entrance of the Palace is beneath a noble arch, and by massive portals. We passed several hours in the two principal halls, which are now chiefly appropriated to the pictures of modern French artists, affording a fair opportunity of studying the broad characteristics and merits of their school, at the head of which is David. As I have already mentioned, the best paintings of the Luxembourg have been transferred to the Louvre, and as the show of the sculpture is extremely meagre, the curiosity of the visiter is limited to the above named object. The design of one of the pictures struck us as being very forcible and beautiful. It is a dog guarding a sleeping infant. The faithful animal has his foot upon a large serpent, which was creeping toward the child. Another of the paintings afforded us not a little amusement, as manifesting the national feeling and spirit of France. It is a historical representation of the capture of an English frigate by a French corvette. The former is dismasted, riddled, and raked from stem to stern; while the latter has all her sails set in gallant trim. This is a fair retort courteous for some of the military and naval trophies exhibited in the tower of London.

The Chamber of Peers is accessible only during the session of that body, and by making application in writing to the Custode. It is said to contain nothing of great interest, its columns being imitation marble, and its ornaments a group of ancient orators and sages in modern marble. The stairway leading to it is among the grandest works of the kind we have seen, consisting of a flight of forty-eight steps, each hewn from solid stone, twenty feet in length.

Our excursion was extended from the Luxembourg to the Gobelins Manufactory of tapestry, situated on the bank of a small branch of the

Seine, called the Beivre, near the southern limits of the city. The establishment took its name from Gobelin, the founder, an emigrant from Flanders, who here built a die-house in the time of Francis I. Colbert, celebrated for his efforts in favour of French manufactures of various kinds, added many improvements, and introduced the manufacture of tapestry in imitation of the Flemish, which the fabrics of this place as well as those of Beauvais are said to transcend in texture and elegance. The building appropriated to the works, now belonging to the government, is spacious; but in the extent and nature of the operations in the interior, we were much disappointed. There is none of that noise of machinery, or bustle of numerous persons employed, which the large manufactories of Great-Britain present. Three English ladies went the rounds with us, and seemed as much surprised as ourselves. The whole process of weaving the tapestry is slowly and silently performed by hand. Several years are required to complete a single piece. The webs are suspended vertically from the ceiling, and the workmen sit by them like so many painters at the palette patiently weaving in a thread at a time, in imitation of the pattern before them. Both the figures and colours of the finest pictures are accurately transferred from the canvass to these fabrics; and the two arts are in fact very nearly allied.

LETTER XXXVII.

PARIS CONTINUED-CHAMBER OF DEPUTIES-HOTEL DES INVALIDES→→→ CHAMP DE MARS-SCENES OF THE REVOLUTION-PASSY-MANUFACTURE OF CARPETS-ROYAL EXHIBITION-GARDEN OF PLANTS.

December, 1825.

On a sunny, pleasant day, near the close of the year, we made a pedestrian circuit of five or six miles, passing down the left bank of the Seine, and returning on the other side through the Elysian Fields, taking in our way a variety of objects. The first of these was the Chamber of Deputies, a lofty and showy edifice, standing within a few paces of the river, at the south end of the bridge Louis XVI. and opposite the Place Louis XV. whence its noble front, ornamented with twelve Corinthian pillars of white stone, appears to the greatest advantage, the view being unobstructed for a mile or two up and down the Seine. A handsome flight of steps leads to the porch, at the bottom of which, seated on pedestals, are colossal statues of two Grecian divinities, who look extremely weather-beaten, and appear to be far from immortal. Aloft are several allegorical emblems, representing Law resting upon the Charter, and supported by Strength and Justice, with personifications of the Seine and Marne, pouring plenty from their urns. A label or two upon the foreheads of some of these figures would be a much greater convenience than those upon the Exchange, In truth, a distant view of the Chamber of Deputies is much more interesting than a closer examination.

The keeper of the keys conducted us through the interior, and showed us every thing worth seeing, with something besides, such as busts and portraits of the Bourbons, which stare you in the face, at every turn through the streets of Paris. In all respects, the legislative hall of France is superior to that of England, but every way inferior to our own. The apartment appropriated to the sittings of the Deputies is in the form of an amphitheatre, with the seats rising one above another before the speaker's chair, which in point of elegance will sustain but a poor comparison with that in the hall of representatives at Washington. Near it stands the Tribune, which every member formally mounts, when he wishes to address the house, although he has not above five words to say-a custom which cannot be too severely deprecated, as destroying the ease and freedom of debate, as well as retarding the transaction of business by studied harangues. The seats

for the accommodation of the ministers of the government are covered with green morocco, and the other furniture is convenient, but common. A group of half a dozen antique busts, representing the great orators of Greece and Rome, are among the decorations. The gallery will convene 300 spectators, and is open to the public during the sessions of the house.

Around this central hall extends a suite of rooms, that go by different names, and contain a scanty show of paintings, statues, and other curiosities, numbering among the rest the chair in which the king sits at the opening of the session, and which Napoleon used for the same purpose. On the mantel-piece in one of the apartments called the King's Saloon, is an ingenious clock, made by Lepaute, in the form of a globe, and indicating the hour by the rotation of the earth under the hand, and by lines of longitude. The Chamber of Conferences to the right of the President's chair is ornamented with several paintings and pieces of sculpture, the most conspicuous of which is a bust of the Duke of Berry, with his last words after his assassination inscribed upon the pedestal-" J'avais espéré verser mon sang pour la France”—I had hoped to shed my blood for my country.

Leaving behind the Palace of Bourbon, which is contiguous to the Chamber of Deputies, but in appearance has little to recommend it, save a magnificent terrace 300 feet long, with gardens and walks, commanding an extensive view of the opposite shores of the Seine, we continued our rambles to the Hotel des Invalides, corresponding in design with the great institution at Greenwich, near London, for the relief of decrepid mariners, and if possible surpassing even the latter in conveniences and comforts. Its extent, arrangement, and internal police reflect infinite credit upon the humanity and munificence of the French nation, dispensing more real happiness than all the palaces for noblemen and kings, which Paris can boast. Here the invalid soldiers of France, like the sea-worn and shattered sailors of England, find not merely a comfortable, but sumptuous asylum, ending their days in peace and plenty, after all their arduous campaigns, and the hardships of the field, with perhaps the loss of a leg or an arm in the service of their country. I have long been of the opinion, that the most liberal provision should be made for common soldiers and common sailors, who at best have a hard time of it, participating largely in the toils and dangers of war, but sharing moderately either its benefits or its glories.

The Hospital of Invalids is worthy of the memory of Henry IV. and Louis XIV. who projected and brought it to completion, and of whose greatness it forms a more substantial and creditable monument, than all the canvass and marble, which perpetuate their military