The Hotel Dieu is one of the finest establishments of the kind in Europe, it is an hospital for the sick, in which they can make up 1,500 beds, but there is nothing in its external appearance that is very striking.  The Archiepiscopal Palace had not a very attractive exterior, but now, as they are partly demolishing and rebuilding it all, remarks must be suspended until it be finished.  No other object presents itself particularly worth notice on this island, once the celebrated Lutetia, but many of the houses have a very old appearance, and are some of them probably of three or four hundred years standing; the curious observer inspecting them will here and there find indications of the middle ages.  If the reader like to pass over to the Isle St. Louis, it will but take him a few minutes, which is about as much as it is worth; the only object exciting attention is the Hotel Chamisot, No. 45, Rue St. Louis, and the church of St. Louis, built in 1664.  In this edifice there are some pictures worthy remark and a curious spire.  The Hotel Lambert, No. 2, Rue St. Louis, also merits attention, being most richly adorned with paintings, gilded mouldings, frescos, etc.  Voltaire lived in it, and Napoleon had a long conversation in the gallery in 1815 with his minister, Montalivet, when he found all was lost.

I shall now conduct my reader from the little Isle St. Louis by the Pont de Tournelle to the Quay de Tournelle, from which we proceed to that of St. Bernard, where every one must be struck with the Halles aux Vins, or Wine Halls; they are all arranged with extreme regularity, and forming altogether a whole, have a most singular effect; the neatness of the appearance is remarkable; and the extent is such that they might contain sufficient inhabitants to people a small town.  As we proceed along the quay, we have a good view of the Pont d’Austerlitz, it is quite flat, built of iron, and is extremely light and handsome.

Upon our right is the great attraction, so interesting to all nations, the Garden of Plants; the first view of it through the iron railing is most striking, rows of sable looking trees, forming a fine contrast to the broad expansive beds of flowers, their gay colours blooming forth so thickly as to resemble at some distance the brightest and richest carpet; broad walks are between these brilliant masses; at the end of which is the building which contains the Museum of natural History; to give the reader anything like an accurate idea of this establishment, it is necessary to exercise one’s ability in condensing to the utmost degree, as to furnish a comprehensive analysis of the wonders of this institution would require a folio volume.  I knew an English couple who took lodgings in the immediate neighbourhood for three months that they might go every day and study the numberless interesting objects this establishment contains.  The long promenades are formed by picturesque trees and shrubs which have been collected from every clime; the immense