some parts, eminently beautiful, with groves of the favourite chesnut. Leaving, after a time, the ordinary high road, we entered a broad avenue by a large iron gate, with gilt topt railing. On either side of the principal way is a smaller road, each with a double row of trees. Having travelled for some time along this superb approach, we discover, by the roofs of houses among branches, that we are drawing near to a town; and begin to admire handsome buildings and fine trees: but all minor wonder ceases, when we are called upon to survey the principal spectacle; for, driving into a square of great extent, rising gradually from the one side, we find the upper part of it occupied by the front of the ancient portion of the palace, which, though not the most magnificent department of the edifice, is qualified to command our admiration-rich, rare, and oldfashioned, with a profusion of busts, statues, and gilded ornaments among the windows. This regal abode appears to equal in size all the Parisian palaces put together; yet the shape of the latter, in hollow squares, may negative this calculation; and nothing is so false, in such an estimate, as the eye of an inexperienced traveller. Nevertheless, it is only when we penetrate to the back front of the region, that the spaciousness of the noble and symmetrical ranges of architecture becomes quite overpowering; and we are made to understand that such prodigious grandeur must far exceed

the wants or means of any private individual, however exalted, and can pertain only to the unapproached head of the universal empire. The palace is situated upon an eminence, from which there is a fine view of the adjacent country. Immediately below, towards the back, lie the pleasure-grounds and gardens, unequalled in splendour and extent, statues, basins, parterres and terraces, and a whole province of park and forest.

There is, however, as the reader will by this time have discovered, considerable monotony in the description of French palace scenery; and after all, a Briton is not in his element in attempting it. Perhaps a dash of envy mixes with the pleasure he enjoys in the survey; and he will question the propriety of such wanton superfluity of magnificent accommodation for the use of one individual. With the French, however, the matter may be different: the splendour is their king's, it is their own: every man appropriates it; and it is the Parisians' special delight on a Sunday afternoon, to come trooping by thousands to saunter in the gardens ; to revel in the wonders of the extensive jets d'eau; to chat under the shade of some colossal statue; to stray among the leafy labyrinths, and dance upon the green margins of the beautiful basins.

Rather than be doomed to spend such a Sabbath evening, I would willingly take some time of the galleys; for although I am prone by nature to recreations

of all kinds, yet the French, in following pleasure, drive through the strait commands of God, with a fierceness and universality that is altogether appalling. The scene therefore, on Sunday and fètes, must exceed all description. To-day, however, the living figures of the picture are not numerous, and only enough to enliven it. A school of fine boys, with animated looks, engaging manners, and voluble tongues; the distant hum of practising drums far away in the forest; gardeners trimming the parterres, creating, as we pass, the salutary fragrance of new turned-up earth; groups of soldiers here and there in their white undress, or surrounding a basin, where a mighty bronze Neptune and his attendant horses and dolphins emerge from the waves, forming part of the machinery of a noble jet d'eau; a party from Paris, penetrating the interior recesses of parterre, grove, or arcaded circle, sacred to royal tea-drinking; sundry Englishmen lying on the grass at study, as sulky as you please, while we take a sidelong look at them; and in the wooded retreats, the blackbird and nightingale enchant the air, and the cuckoo tells of approaching summer. The statues in this Jardin are, as usual, much larger than life, and are tolerably well clothed. It seems to be the humour here to write with a pencil on the white marble pedestals, as we do on the window shutters of an inn. A lady's name, perhaps some toast of celebrity; some middling

verses, it may be, in praise of the god or goddesses represented by the statue above; little strokes of pleasantry also abound, sometimes addressed to the English, who reside at Versailles in great numbers. A fat face was pourtrayed, the name an English oath I do not choose to repeat, with "On mange bien au hotel de Madame The workmanship of the statues is not peculiarly happy ; they are generally copies of some heathen deity: there is little expression in them, no anatomy, or exhibition of muscle, or accuracy of delineation, in their large round fat limbs. Some flights of red marble steps, of immense size and width, are truly magnificent. On the whole, I doubt not that a retired person might find Versailles a pleasant residence, and might stroll and study very agreeably among the distant recesses of the park, where the straight avenues lose themselves inmiles of distance.

But this I love not; a prospect that is not bounded by the ocean, or some lofty ridge, has no charms for me: indeed, the intolerable sameness would quickly drown me in irretrievable ennui. I liked St. Cloud better on this account; it is higher pitched, and in the view from it, there is more variety of feature and of the magnificence of distance: but I am tired of describing this kind of country, and I dare say the reader is somewhat fatigued also.

Thursday, May 15.

This, being Ascension-day, is kept as a Sunday: work is in part suspended, the shops generally shut; although, for the purpose of information, the chief articles that are to be disposed of within, are tolerably well painted on the back of the shutters. The Tuilleries' garden is like a crowded market-place throughout; folks in their Sunday clothes, fluttering in broad cloth and gilt buttons, or in coloured silks and plumes like rainbows. There are to be a great many fêtes and spectacles, and a balloon on Sunday. M. Joinville did not come to the lesson this morning, I found him in the café, with a clean white waistcoat and new broach, looking remarkably well, all ready for the sports of the day. Some decent-looking people are seen with books going to church.

I must not forget the rectification of a mistake to day, which showed me a little of one department of French society, namely, the state of the ancient noblesse. I have mentioned, that among military men, merchants, and people from the country, we have had occasionally at our table d'hote characters whose walk in life might be somewhat of an inferior degree to these. One person has lived some time in the house, whose manner I particularly admired; yet whom, from some occasional peculiarities of dress, I persisted secretly in taking for