Paris was formerly without an Exchange, and the merchants held their meetings in an old building which John Law, the celebrated financier, once occupied.  They afterward met in the Palais Royal, and still later, in a comparatively obscure street.  The first stone of the Bourse was laid on the 28th of March, 1808, and the works proceeded with dispatch till 1814, when they were suspended.  It was completed in 1826.  The architect who designed it died when it was half completed, but the plan was carried out, though by a new architect.  It is now a model building of its kind, and cost nearly nine millions of francs.  In comprehensive magnificence it has no rival in Paris—­perhaps not in the world.  The Royal Exchange of London, though a fine building, is a pigmy beside this massive and colossal structure.  The best view can be obtained from the Rue Vivienne.  From this street one has a fine view of the fine marble steps ascending to it, and which stretch completely across the western part.

The history of all the great panics which have been experienced on the Paris Exchange would be an excellent history of the fortunes of France.  The slightest premonition of change is felt at once at the Bourse, and as each successive revolution has swept over the country, it has written its history in ineffaceable characters on Change.  Panic has followed panic, and the stocks fly up or down according to the views outside.  The breath of war sets all its interests into a trembling condition, and an election, before now, has sent the thrill to the very center of that grand old money-palace.

On my way home from the Bourse, I stopped to go over Galignani’s Reading Room.  It is a capital collection of the best books of all countries, some of them in French, some in English, and others in German.  I found on the shelves many American republications, but Cooper was always first among these.  For a small sum the stranger can subscribe to this library, either for a month or a year, and supply himself with reading and the newspapers of the world.

The Messrs. Galignani publish an English journal in Paris.  It is a daily, and has no opinions of its own.  Of course, an original and independent journal could not be allowed to exist in Paris.

For this reason Galignani’s Messenger is a vapid concern.  It presents no thoughts to the reader.  It is interesting to the Englishman in Paris, because it gathers English news, and presents it in the original language.  As there are always a great many Englishmen in Paris, the journal is tolerably well supported.  Then, again, the Paris shop-keepers and hotel-owners know very well that the English are among their best customers, and they advertise largely in it.  So far as my experience has gone, I have found the Messenger quite unfair to America.  It quotes from the worst of American journals, and is sure to parade anything that may be for the disadvantage of American reputation.  It also is generally