for the English papers.  The love of news is at all times natural; but at a distance from home the mind is doubly anxious for the details of what is going on there, and attaches an interest to particulars which, under other circumstances, it would consider as too trivial to be worthy of attention.  During my stay on the Continent, I felt very forcibly the truth of Dr. Johnson’s observation, “that it is difficult to conceive how man can exist without a newspaper.”  I was, however, for a considerable time, forced to be satisfied with the French papers, the expence of the English being so great, as to cause them to be seldom taken in abroad; and after my departure from Paris, I saw no English paper until my arrival at Frankfort, an interval of above two months.

If the pedestrian is exposed to many inconveniences and dangers in the streets of Paris, yet intricate as they often are, he is seldom in danger of going far out of his way, if he attends to the manner in which the names of the streets are coloured, those leading to the river being lettered in black, and those parallel to, or not leading directly to it, in red.  The quays form the most prominent feature in Paris, and when arrived there, he can experience little difficulty in finding the road he desires.  The mode of numbering the houses in Paris differs from that used with us, all the odd numbers being on one aide the street, and the even numbers on the other.

After having seen the Palais Royal, my attention was next attracted by the Palace of the Tuilleries (so called from the circumstance of tiles having been formerly made on the spot where it stands).  This is a vast and magnificent building, extending in front next the gardens 168 toises (about 1050 feet English measure).  The gardens were laid out by Le Noitre, and exhibit a specimen of the taste of that time, abounding in statues, avenues, and water-works; but it must at the same time be admitted, that the general effect produced is not devoid of magnificence, which is heightened by the communication between these gardens and the Champs Elysees, which forms a vista of great length, and when illuminated, the coup d’oeil must be really superb.  On the side of the gardens next the river, is a terrace considerably elevated, which commands a view well deserving the praise which has been bestowed on it.  This was the usual promenade of Buonaparte, who caused a subterranean communication to be formed between it and the Palace, to avoid passing through those parts of the garden which were open to the public, who, during his promenade, were excluded from the terrace.  The Parisians did not like this exclusion, and used to say, on seeing his Majesty, “See, the lion is come out of his den.”  This terrace was also the constant walk of the ex-Empress and her son.  I was told, that shortly after Buonaparte’s installation as Emperor, the people, to mark their disapprobation of the dignity which he had assumed, entirely deserted the gardens of this palace, which had always been their favourite walk in the evenings; and that, being hurt at this, the Emperor ordered one of his military bands to play here every evening.  The scheme succeeded; the attraction being too great for the Parisians to resist, and the gardens were more frequented than ever.