he approaches, with the crown of a hat in one hand, into which he expects you should drop a sous.  Having made his collection, he draws forth the dagger from its carnal sheath, and, making his bow, seems to anticipate the plaudits which invariably follow.[3] Or, he changes his plan of operations on the following evening.  Instead of the dagger put down his throat, he introduces a piece of wire up one nostril, to descend by the other—­and, thus self-tortured, demands the remuneration and the applause of his audience.  In short, from one end of the Boulevards to the other, for nearly two English miles, there is nought but animation, good humour, and, it is right to add, good order;—­while, having strolled as far as the Boulevards de Bondy, and watched the moon-beams sparkling in the waters which play there within the beautiful fountain so called,—­I retread my steps, and seek the quiet quarters in which this epistle is penned.

The next out-of-door sources of gratification, of importance, are the Gardens of the Thuileries, the Champs Elysees, and the promenade within the Palais Royal; in which latter plays a small, but, in my humble opinion, the most beautifully constructed fountain which Paris can boast of.  Of this, presently.  The former of these spots is rather pretty than picturesque:  rather limited than extensive:  a raised terrace to the left, on looking from the front of the Thuileries, is the only commanding situation—­from which you observe the Seine, running with its green tint, and rapid current, to the left—­while on the right you leisurely examine the rows of orange trees and statuary which give an imposing air of grandeur to the scene.  At this season of the year, the fragrance of the blossoms of the orange trees is most delicious.  The statues are of a colossal, and rather superior kind ... for garden decoration.  There are pleasing vistas and wide gravel walks, and a fine evening usually fills them with crowds of Parisians.  The palace is long, but rather too low and narrow; yet there is an air of elegance about it, which, with the immediately surrounding scenery, cannot fail to strike you very agreeably.  The white flag of St. Louis floats upon the top of the central dome.  The Champs Elysees consist of extensive wooded walks; and a magnificent road divides them, which serves as the great attractive mall for carriages—­ especially on Sundays—­while, upon the grass, between the trees, on that day, appear knots of male and female citizens enjoying the waltz or quadrille.  It is doubtless a most singular, and animated scene:  the utmost order and good humour prevailing.  The Place Louis Quinze, running at right angles with the Thuileries, and which is intersected in your route to the Rue de la Paix, is certainly a most magnificent front elevation; containing large and splendid houses, of elaborate exterior ornament.  When completed, to the right, it will present an almost matchless front of domestic architecture, built upon the Grecian model.  It was in this place, facing his own regal residence of the Thuileries, that the unfortunate Louis—­surrounded by a ferocious and bloodthirsty mob—­was butchered by the guillotine.