nine miles in length.  Each of these lines, although in reality forming an uninterrupted road from its commencement to its termination, is divided into a succession of parts, each having its particular name.  The northern Boulevards are twelve in number, the southern seven.  We have nothing in England like the Parisian Boulevards.  They may be generally described as a road or street, of great breadth, along each side of which are planted double rows of elms.  But these shady avenues do not present merely a picture of rural beauty.  Rising as they do in the heart of a great city, they partake also of its artificial elegance and splendour, and are associated with all the luxuries of architectural decoration.  Considered merely as a range of streets, the Boulevards are hardly rivalled by any other part of Paris.  Those to the north of the river are lined on both sides throughout their whole extent, by buildings more uniformly handsome than are those of almost any other street in the city, and by many which may be even described as magnificent.  Some of these are private residences; others are shops, cafes, public hotels, and theatres.  The crowds by whom so many parts of these Boulevards are frequented chiefly give to the scene its singular liveliness and brilliancy.  The southern Boulevards, though equally beautiful, are far from being so much the habitual resort of the citizens; but the walks on this very account, have a charm for some moods of mind which the others want.  Another road, planted in a similar manner, has more recently been carried round the outside of the present walls of the city.  It is distinguished from the inner Boulevards by the name of the Boulevards Exterieurs.

Streets.

To a person accustomed to the appearance of the streets of London, or indeed of any other English town, those of the interior of Paris will present considerable novelty of aspect.  The extreme narrowness, in the first place, of those in the more ancient parts of the city, and the great height of the houses, with their windows in many cases fortified by bars of iron, would alone give them an air of gloom and precaution, almost sufficient to impress the Englishman who walks through them with the feeling that he has been transported, not only into another country, but into another age.  Even where these indications of the more ancient evils of Paris are not visible, the general aspect of the town shows that it has not grown with the growth of a free people, amongst whom the inequalities of rank have been softened down by respect to the comforts of all classes.  Under the ancient regime, which was in full activity half a century ago, there were only two classes in Paris, the noblesse, and the bourgeoisie; and the latter, being driven into the gutters by the carriage-wheels of their arrogant masters, went by the general name of the canaille. Few of the streets even now have any side pavement for foot passengers—­that invaluable accommodation