The fountain of St-Martin in front of the Ambigu-Comique is one of the most beautiful objects in Paris; a handsome font rises in the middle from which the water falls in sheets of silvery profusion, whilst around, lions disgorge liquid streams which all unite in the grand basin; this sight is most beautiful to behold by the light of the moon. We next enter the Boulevard du Temple, where there is such a number of theatres and coffee-houses all joining each other, that there is really some difficulty of ascertaining which is the one or the other. The Theatre de la Gaiete, the resort principally of the middle or lower classes, is one of the most conspicuous, as also the Cirque Olympique, or Franconi’s Theatre, where the performances resemble those at Astley’s. There is always an immense crowd on these Boulevards amusing themselves around a number of shows; or playing or looking at various games which are constantly going forward, singers, musicians, conjurors, merry andrews, fortune tellers, orators, dancers, tumblers, etc., are all exerting their powers, to gain a little coin from the easily pleased multitude; these boulevards have in fact the appearance of a perpetual fete or fair, but the curious ideas that appear to me to have entered the heads of these people in the nature of their performances, are such as I should imagine none would ever have thought of but the French; nor any lower orders but of that nation could have been found to appreciate such singular exhibitions. One of this description particularly excited my notice; a man came up with another man in his arms and popped him down just as if he was a block; he had no sooner deposited his burden than he began a long harangue upon the talents of the individual whom he had just deposited before us, in acting a machine or automaton, he then to prove his assertion gave him a knock on