In the streets of Paris, I every where saw an unusual number of very large, fierce looking dogs, partaking of the breed of the newfoundland, and british bulldog. During the time of terrour, these brave and faithful animals were in much request, and are said to have given the alarm of danger, and saved, in several instances, the lives and property of their masters, by their accustomed fidelity. Upon my arrival in this great capital, I was of course desirous of becoming acquainted with its leading features as soon as possible, for the purpose of being enabled to explore my way to any part of it, without a guide. The scheme which I thought of, for this purpose, answered my wishes, and therefore I may presume to submit it to others.

On the second day after my arrival, I purchased a map of Paris, hired a fiacre, and drove to the Pantheon. Upon the top gallery which surmounts its lofty and magnificent dome, I made a survey of the city, which lay below me, like the chart with which I compared it. The clouds passed swiftly over my head, and from the shape of the dome, impressed me with an idea of moving in the air, upon the top, instead of the bottom of a balloon. I easily attained my object, by tracing the churches, the temple, the abbey, the palaces, large buildings, and the course and islands of the river, after which I seldom had occasion to retrace my steps, when I was roving about, unaccompanied. On account of no coal being used in Paris, the prospect was perfectly clear, and the air is consequently salubrious. The Pantheon, or church of St. Genevieve, is a magnificent building from the designs of Mons. Soufflet, one of the first architects of France: it was intended to be the rival of the St. Paul's of London; but, though a very noble edifice, it must fail of exciting any emotions of jealousy amongst the admirers of that national building. It is a magnificent pile, and when completed, is destined to be the principal place of worship, and is at present the mausoleum of the deceased great men of France. Upon the entablature over the portico is written, in immense characters, "AUX GRANDS HOMMES—LA PATRIE RECONNOISANTE." Parallel with the grand entrance, are colossal statues, representing the virtues imputed to a republic. Soon after the completion of the inner dome, about two years since, one of the main supporting pillars was crushed in several places by the pressure. The defective column has been removed, and until it can be replaced, its proportion of weight is sustained by a most ingenious and complicated wooden structure. Upon the spot where the altar is to be erected, I saw another goddess of liberty, with her usual appendages carved in wood, and painted, and raised by the order of Robespierre, for a grand revolutionary fÊte, which he intended to have given, in this church, upon the very day in which he perished. The interior dome is covered with two larger ones, each of which is supported by separate pillars, and pilasters, and the whole is constructed of stone only. The interior of the lower dome is covered with the most beautiful carvings in stone. The peristyle, or circular colonnade round the lower part of the exterior of the dome, is very fine, but I must confess, I do not like an ancient fashion which the french have just revived in their construction of these pillars, of making the thickest part of the column a little below the centre, and lessening in size to the base. Under this immense fabric are spacious vaults, well lighted; supported by doric pillars, the depositaries of the illustrious dead of France. At present there are only two personages whose relics are honoured with this gloomy distinction. Rousseau and Voltaire very quietly repose by the side of each other. Their remains are contained in two separate tombs, which are constructed of wood, and are embellished with various inscriptions. Hamlet's remark over the grave of Ophelia, strongly occurred to me.

"Where be your gibes now? your gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment that were wont to set the table on a roar? not one now to mock your own grinning? quite chapfallen?"

At either end of the tomb of Jean Jacques, are two hands, darting out of the gates of death, supporting lighted torches, and below, (it is a little singular) are inscriptions illustrating the peaceful, and benevolent virtues of the enclosed defunct!

Peace to their manes! may they enjoy more repose, than that troubled world which their extraordinary, yet different talents seemed equally destined to embellish and to embroil, though it would be difficult to name any two modern writers, who have expressed, with more eloquence, a cordial love of peace, and a zealous desire to promote the interests of humanity!!

The church of St. Genevieve is entirely composed of stone and iron, of the latter very little is used. It has already cost the nation very near two millions sterling. As I was returning from the Pantheon, I was addressed by one of our emigrant companions, to whom I have before alluded. He had just arrived in Paris, intended staying about a month, and then returning to Toulon. He warmly made me an offer of his services, and during my stay here, sent every morning to know if he should attend me as a friendly guide, to conduct me to any place which I might wish to see, or to prevent me from suffering any imposition from tradesmen. His attentions to me were always agreeable, and sometimes serviceable, and strongly impressed upon my mind, the policy, as well as the pleasure, of treating every being with civility, even where first appearances are not favourable, and where an expectation of meeting the party again is not probable. In the course of the day I was introduced to Madame B——, who resides, by permission of the first consul, in a suite of elegant apartments in the Louvre, which have been granted to her on account of her merits and genius, and also in consideration of the losses which she has sustained by the revolution. In her study she presented me to Mademoiselle T——, the then celebrated beauty of Paris; her portrait by David, had afforded much conversation in the fashionable circles; she was then copying, with great taste, from the antique, which is generally the morning's occupation of the french ladies of fashion. She is certainly a very handsome young woman: but I think if the painter of France was to visit a certain western county of England, he would discover as many attractions for the display of his admirable pencil, as were at this time to be found in the study of Madame B——. When we left her, Madame B—— asked me what I thought of her; I candidly made the above remark to her, "Ah!" said she, "you should have seen her about a month since, she was then the prettiest creature in all France;" how so, has she suffered from indisposition? "oh no," replied Madame B——, smilingly, "but a month, you know, makes a considerable difference upon the face of beauty."

I was much obliged to Madame B—— for the remark, which is greatly within an observation which I have frequently made, on the evanescent nature of youthful beauty. Madame B——'s calculations of the given progress of decay, were eighteen times more swift than mine. The subject of our conversation, and the busts by which we were surrounded, naturally led us to talk of the french ladies, and they reminded us, though slightly, of their present dress. Madame B—— entered into a particular account of the decorations of a lady of fashion in France. I have not patience enough to enumerate them here, except that the wife of a fournisseur will not hesitate paying from three to four hundred pounds for a Cachemire shawl, nor from four to five hundred pounds for a laced gown, nor a much larger sum for diamonds cut like pearls, and threaded. In this costly manner, does the ingenuity of art, and the prodigality of wealth do homage to the elegance of nature. The entrance to Madame B——'s apartments seemed at first, a little singular and unsuitable, but I soon found that it was no unusual circumstance, after groping through dirty passages, and up filthy staircases to enter a noble hall and splendid rooms.

Upon leaving Madame B—— I passed the Place de Carousel, and saw the ruins of the houses, which suffered by the explosion of the infernal machine, which afforded so much conversation in the world at the time, by which the first consul was intended to have been destroyed in his way to the National Institute of Music. This affair has been somewhat involved in mystery. It is now well known that Monsieur FouchÉ, at the head of the police, was acquainted with this conspiracy from its first conception, and by his vigilant agents, was informed of the daily progress made in the construction of this destructive instrument, of the plan of which he had even a copy. The conspirators proceeded with perfect confidence, and as they thought with perfect security. Three days before it was quite completed, and ready for its fell purpose, from some surprise or dread of detection, they changed their place of meeting, and in one night removed the machine from the spot where it had been usually deposited. The penetrating eye of the police lost sight of them. FouchÉ, and his followers exercised their unrivalled talents for pursuit and discovery to no purpose. The baffled minister then waited upon Bonaparte, to whom he had regularly imparted the result of every day's information respecting it, and told him that he could no longer trace the traiterous instrument of his assassination, and requested him, as he knew it must be completed by this time, not to go to any public places, until he had regained a knowledge of it. Bonaparte replied, that fear only made cowards, and conspirators brave, and that he had unalterably determined to go with his accustomed equipage to the National Concert that very evening. At the usual hour the first consul set off undismayed from the Thuilleries, a description of the machine, which was made to resemble a water cask, being first given to the coachman, servants, and guards. As they proceeded, the advance guard passed it unobserved, but the coachman discovered it just as the consular carriage was on a parallel with it; instantly the dexterous and faithful charioteer lashed his horses into full speed, and turned the corner of the Rue Marcem. In one moment after, the terrible machine exploded, and covered the street with ruins. The thunder of its discharge shook the houses of Paris, and was heard at a considerable distance in the country. The first consul arrived in safety at the Hall of Music, and with every appearance of perfect tranquillity, entered his box amidst the acclamations of the crowded multitude. The range of buildings which was shattered by the explosion, has long offended the eye of taste, and presented a gloomy, and very inconvenient obstruction to the grand entrance of the palace. Bonaparte, with his usual judgment, which converts every event into some good, immediately after this affair, purchased the houses which were damaged, and the whole of this scene of ruins and rubbish is removing with all possible expedition, to the great improvement of this grand approach.

Whilst I was strolling along the banks of the Seine, I could not help remarking that it would suffer much by a comparison with the Thames, so finely described by sir John Denham—

The Seine is narrow, and very dirty; its waters, which are finely filtrated when drawn from the fountains of Paris, produce an aperient effect upon strangers, who are generally cautioned not to drink much of them at a time.

The tide does not reach further than several miles below Paris; to this cause I can alone attribute, though perhaps the reason is insufficient, that the river is never rendered gay by the passing, and repassing of beautiful pleasure boats, to the delights of which the parisians seem total strangers. Its shores are sadly disfigured by a number of black, gloomy, and unwieldy sheds, which are erected upon barges, for the accommodation of the washerwomen, who, by their mode of washing, which is, by rubbing the linen in the river water, and beating it with large flat pieces of wood, resembling battledores, until the dirt, and generally a portion of the linen retire together, make a noise very similar to that of shipwrights caulking a vessel. This is an abominable nuisance, and renders the view up the river, from the centre of the Pont de la Concorde, the most complete mÉlange of filth and finery, meanness and magnificence I ever beheld. Whilst I am speaking of these valuable, but noisy dames, I must mention that their services are chiefly confined to strangers, and the humbler class of parisians. The genteel families of France are annoyed by the unpleasant domestic occurrence of washing, when in town only once, and when in the country only twice in the course of the year. Their magazines of clothes are of course immense, for the reception and arrangement of which several rooms in their houses are always allotted. It is the intention of the first consul gradually to unkennel this clattering race of females, when it can be done with safety. To force them to the tub, and to put them into the suds too suddenly, might, from their influence amongst the lower classes of citizens, be followed by consequences not very congenial to the repose of the government.

To show of what importance the ladies of the lower class in Paris are, I shall relate a little anecdote of Bonaparte, in which he is considered to have exhibited as much bravery as he ever displayed in the field of battle.

The poissardes, whose name alone will awaken some emotion in the mind of the reader, from its horrible union with the barbarous massacres which discoloured the capital with blood during the revolution, have been from time immemorial accustomed, upon any great and fortunate event, to send a deputation of their sisterhood to the kings and ministers of France, and since the revolution to the various rulers of the republic, to ofter their congratulations, accompanied by a large bouquet of flowers. Upon the elevation of Bonaparte to the supreme authority of France, according to custom, they sent a select number from their body to present him with their good wishes, and usual fragrant donation. The first consul sternly received them, and after rejecting their nosegay, fiercely told them to retire, and in future to attend to their husbands, their children, and their fisheries, and never more to attempt an interference in matters relating to the state. Upon which he ordered the pages in waiting to close the door upon them. He thought no doubt that "Omnium manibus res humanÆ egent: paucorum capita sufficiunt."—"Human affairs require the hands of all, whilst the heads of few are sufficient."

These formidable dames, so celebrated for their ferocity, retired chagrined and chapfallen from the presence of the imperious consul, and have not attempted to force either their congratulations, or their bouquets upon any of the public functionaries since that period. Such a repulse as this, offered to a body of people, more formidable from their influence than the lazzaroni of Naples, would in all human probability have cost any one of the kings of France his crown. I received this anecdote from the brother of one of the ministers of France to whom this country is much indebted. Before the high daring of Bonaparte, every difficulty seems to droop, and die.

Near the Pont de la Concorde is a handsome, and ornamental building, which is erected upon barges, and contains near three hundred cold and tepid baths, for men and women. It is surrounded by a wooden terrace, which forms an agreeable walk upon the water, and is decorated with shrubs, orange trees, and flowers, on each side.

This place is very grateful in a climate which, in summer, is intensely warm. There are other public baths, but this is chiefly resorted to by people of respectability. The price is very moderate, thirty sols.