It would be tedious to follow the history of this old and venerated stone, which was taken from the quarry 1550 years before the birth of Christ; placed in Thebes; its removal; the journey to the Nile, and down the Nile; thence to Cherbourg, and lastly its arrival in Paris on the 23d of December, 1833—­just one year before I escaped from slavery.  The obelisk was raised on the spot where it now stands, on the 25th of October, 1836, in the presence of Louis Philippe and amid the greetings of 160,000 persons.

Having missed my dinner, I crossed over to the Palais Royal, to a dining saloon, and can assure you that a better dinner may be had there for five francs, than can be got in New York for twice that sum, and especially if the person who wants the dinner is a coloured man.  I found no prejudice against my complexion in the Palais Royal.

Many of the rooms in this once abode of Royalty, are most splendidly furnished, and decorated with valuable pictures.  The likenesses of Madame de Stael, J.J.  Rousseau, Cromwell, and Francis I., are among them.

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After several unsuccessful attempts to-day, in company with R.D.  Webb, Esq., to seek out the house where once resided the notorious Robespierre, I was fortunate enough to find it, but not until I had lost the company of my friend.  The house is No. 396, Rue St. Honore, opposite the Church of the Assumption.  It stands back, and is reached by entering a court.  During the first revolution it was occupied by M. Duplay, with whom Robespierre lodged.  The room used by the great man of the revolution, was pointed out to me.  It is small, and the ceiling low, with two windows looking out upon the court.  The pin upon which the blue coat once hung, is still in the wall.  While standing there, I could almost imagine that I saw the great “Incorruptible,” sitting at the small table composing those speeches which gave him so much power and influence in the Convention and the Clubs.

Here, the disciple of Rousseau sat and planned how he should outdo his enemies and hold on to his friends.  From this room he went forth, followed by his dog Brunt, to take his solitary walk in a favourite and neighbouring field, or to the fiery discussions of the National Convention.  In the same street, is the house in which Madame Roland—­one of Robespierre’s victims—­resided.

A view of the residence of one of the master spirits of the French revolution inclined me to search out more, and therefore I proceeded to the old town, and after winding through several small streets—­some of them so narrow as not to admit more than one cab at a time—­I found myself in the Rue de L’Ecole de Medecine, and standing in front of house No. 20.  This was the residence, during the early days of the revolution, of that bloodthirsty demon in human form, Marat.

I said to a butcher, whose shop was underneath, that I wanted to see La Chambre de Marat.  He called out to the woman of the house to know if I could be admitted, and the reply was, that the room was used as a sleeping apartment, and could not be seen.