and the tombs as fresh and well preserved as if they were of yesterday.  In the Celestins’ church is a votive column to Francis ii., which says, that it is one assurance of his being immortalised, to have had the martyr Mary Stuart for his wife.  After this long digression, I return to the burial, which was a most vile thing.  A long procession of flambeaux and friars; no plumes, trophies, banners, led horses, scutcheons, or open chariots; nothing but friars, white, black, and grey, with all their trumpery.  This goodly ceremony began at nine at night, and did not finish till three this morning; for, each church they passed, they stopped for a hymn and holy water.  By the bye, some of these choice monks, who watched the body while it lay in state, fell asleep one night, and let the tapers catch fire of the rich velvet mantle lined with ermine and powdered with gold flower-de-luces, which melted the lead coffin, and burnt off the feet of the deceased before it awakened them.  The French love show; but there is a meanness runs through it all.  At the house where I stood to see this procession, the room was hung with crimson damask and gold, and the windows were mended in ten or a dozen places with paper.  At dinner they give you three courses; but a third of the dishes is patched up with sallads, butter, puff-paste, or some such miscarriage of a dish.  None, but Germans, wear fine clothes; but their coaches are tawdry enough for the wedding of Cupid and Psyche.  You would-laugh extremely at their signs:  some live at the Y grec, some at Venus’s toilette, and some at the sucking cat.  You would not easily guess their notions of honour:  I’ll tell you one:  it is very dishonourable for any gentleman not to be ’in @he army, or in the king’s service as they call it, and it is no dishonour to keep public gaming-houses:  there are at least an hundred and fifty people of the first quality in Paris who live by it.  You may go into their houses at all hours of the night, And find hazard, pharaoh, etc.  The men who keep the hazard tables at the duke de Gesvres’ pay him twelve guineas each night for the privilege.  Even the princesses of the blood are dirty enough to have shares in the banks kept at their houses.  We have seen two or three of them; but they are not young, nor remarkable but for wearing their red of a deeper dye than other women, though all use it extravagantly.

The weather is still so bad, that we have not made any excursions to see Versailles and the environs, not even walked in the Tuileries; but we have seen almost every thing else that is worth seeing in Paris, though that is very considerable.  They beat us vastly in buildings, both in number and magnificence.  The tombs of Richelieu and Mazarin at the Sorbonne and the College de Quatre Nations are wonderfully fine, especially the former.  We have seen very little of the people themselves, who are not inclined to be propitious to strangers, especially if they do