quit it till he had broken the bank.* Others have tried the experiment to their sorrow, and immense fortunes have been lost in a single night.

One of our earliest visits was to the Palace of the Luxembourg, embracing the Chamber of Peers, situated half a mile from the south bank of the Seine. It has some interesting historical associations. During the Revolution, it was converted into a prison, in which were confined many of the celebrated public characters of that period. It was afterwards occupied by the Republican Senate, and is now appropriated to the Chamber of Peers. In extent, architecture, and magnificence, it is among the first edifices in Paris. The length of its principal front is 360 feet, and of the other sides, 300 feet, standing round a spacious court. It is crowned by a lofty and beautiful dome, which is visible from all parts of the city. The garden and grounds attached to it, are scarcely surpassed by the Tuilleries in dimensions and artificial embellishments, forming one of the hundred delightful promenades in the metropolis. They are laid out in wide gravel walks and parterres, and adorned with fountains, groves, and statues.

Our excursion was extended from the Luxembourg to the Gobelins Manufactory of tapestry, situated on the bank of a small branch of the Seine, near the southern limits of the city. The establishment took its name from Gobelin, the founder, an emigrant from Flanders. The whole process of weaving the tapestry is slowly and silently performed by hand. Several years are required to complete a single piece. The webs are suspended vertically from the ceiling, and the workmen sit by them like so many painters at the palette patiently weaving in a thread at a time, in imitation of the pattern before them. Both the figures and colours of the finest pictures are accurately transferred from the canvass to these fabrics; and the two arts are in fact very nearly allied.

* The author of Lacon, who wields the rateau with as much dexterity as the pen, and who finds gambling more profitable than authorship, is said to have carried away 55,000 francs, or $11,000, won at a single sitting at Frascati's, in the course of the last winter.

LETTER XXXVII.

PARIS CONTINUED-CHAMBER OF DEPUTIES-HOTEL

DES INVALIDES--CHAMP DE MARS-PASSY-MANUFACTURE OF CARPETS-ROYAL EXHIBITION-GARDEN OF PLANTS.

December, 1825.-On a sunny, pleasant day, near the close of the year, we made a pedestrian circuit of five or six miles, passing down the left bank of the Seine, and returning on the other side through the Elysian Fields, taking in our way a variety of objects. The first of these was the Chamber of Deputies, a lofty and showy edifice, standing within a few paces of the river, at the south end of the bridge Louis XVI. and opposite the Place Louis XV. whence its noble front, ornamented with twelve Corinthian pillars of white stone, appears to the greatest advantage, the view being unobstructed for a mile or two up and down the Seine. A handsome flight of steps leads to the porch, at the bottom of which, seated on pedestals, are colossal statues of two Grecian divinities, who look extremely weather-beaten, and appear to be far from immortal. Aloft are several allegorical emblems, representing Law resting upon the Charter, and supported by Strength and Justice, with personifications of the Seine and Marne, pouring plenty from their urns. label or two upon the foreheads of some of these figures would be a much greater convenience than those upon the Exchange. In truth, a distant view of the Chamber of Deputies is much more interesting than a closer examina

tion.

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The keeper of the keys conducted us through the interior, and showed us every thing worth seeing, with something besides, such as busts and portraits of the Bourbons, which stare you in the face, at every turn through the streets of Paris. In all. respects, the legislative hall of France is superior to that of England, but every way inferior to our own. The apartment appropriated to the sittings of the Deputies is in the form of an amphitheatre, with the seats rising one above another before the speaker's chair, which in point of elegance will sustain but a poor comparison with

that in the hall of representatives at Washington. Near it stands the Tribune, which every member formally mounts, when he wishes to address the house, although he has not above five words to say-a custom which cannot be two severely deprecated, as destroying the ease and freedom of debate, as well as retarding the transaction of business by studied harangues. The seats for the accommodation of the ministers of the government are covered with green morocco, and the other furniture is convenient, but common. A group

of half a dozen antique busts, representing the great orators of Greece and Rome, are among the decorations. The gallery will convene 300 spectators, and is open to the public during the sessions of the house.

Around this central hall extends a suite of rooms, that go by different names, and contain a scanty show of paintings, statues, and other curiosities, numbering among the rest the chair in which the king sits at the opening of the session, and which Napoleon used for the same purpose. On the mantel-piece of one of the apartments called the King's Saloon, is an ingenious clock, made by Lapaute, in the form of a globe, and indicating the hour by the rotation of the earth under the hand, and by lines of longitude.

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Leaving behind the Palace of Bourbon, which is contiguous to the Chamber of Deputies, but in appearance has little to recommend it, save a magnificent terrace 300 feet long, with gardens and walks, commanding an extensive view of the opposite shores of the Seine, we continued our rambles to the Hotel des Invalides, corresponding in design with the great institution at Greenwich, near London, for the relief of decrepid mariners, and if possible surpassing even the latter in conveniences and comforts. Its extent, arrangement, and internal police reflect infinite credit upon humanity and munificence of the French nation, dispensing more real happiness than all the palaces for noblemen and kings, which Paris can boast. Here the invalid soldiers of France, like the sea-worn and shattered sailors of England, find not merely a comfortable, but sumptuous asylum, ending their days in peace and plenty, after all their arduous campaigns, and the hardships of the field, with perhaps the loss of a leg or an arm in the service of their country. I have long been of the opinion, that the most liberal provision should be made for common soldiers and common sailors, who at best have a hard time of it, participating largely

in the toils and dangers of war, but sharing moderately either its benefits or its glories.

The Hospital of Invalids is worthy of the memory of Henry IV. and Louis XIV. who projected and brought it to completion, and of whose greatness it forms a more substantial and creditable monument, than all the canvass and marble, which perpetuate their military achievements. As a work of art merely, which is the least of its merits, it ranks among the most extensive, boldest, and most magnificent edifices, that adorn the capital. Parts of it are unequalled in architectural grandeur and beauty. The whole range of connected buildings covers an area of more than seven acres, standing round five courts of equal dimensions. A lofty arch in the centre of the pile forms the entrance. principal front is upwards of 600 feet in length, and three stories high besides the basement. Arcades surround the interior, affording spacious covered walks for exercise. The chapel is surmounted by the largest dome in Paris, bearing a cross at top, three hundred feet from the ground. It is sheathed with lead, and highly gilt, sending back at evening the beams of the sun, and rearing itself as a splendid beacon to all parts of the metropolis.

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But the grandeur and beauty of the Hospital are nothing in comparison with its utility. One of its officers conducted us through all the apartments, beginning with the Library, which contains 20,000 volumes for the use of the inmates. Tables and seats are fitted up for the accommodation of each person, round which sat a group of grey-headed veterans, reading perhaps the history of their own campaigns, and looking as happy as ease and quiet could render them. Others were hobbling about the arcades, or basking in the rays of a wintry sun, forgetful of the turmoils of the camp and the dangers of the field. One of the more ingenious of them had amused his leisure and exercised his talent at engineering, by making an exact model of the Hospital, which is deposited in the Library. The whole number of inmates is 7000, consisting of officers and men, from colonels downwards. Distinctions of rank are still kept up, and they are almost as well organized, as when in actual service, the whole corps being under the government of a Marshal of France, whose arrangements are systematic and precise.

We went through the dormitories, eating-rooms, and kitchens, and were delighted with the order, neatness, and

comfort, which pervade the whole establishment. The several divisions of the corps dine at different hours, from long tables, furnished with porcelain, and in some instances with plate for disabled officers. But what is of still greater importance, the board is crowned with plentiful dishes of well cooked and wholesome food. As if to preserve a miniature of the outer world, a café and restaurant, labelled in the Parisian style, have been erected within the court whither the inmates may resort, to quaff their favourite beverage, or read the news. These of course form a part of the Hospital, and are under rigid regulations.

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The walls of the Council Chamber and of the two adjoining rooms are covered with portraits of the dead Marshals of France, who are here enrolled by an edict of the government, as soon as they have paid the debt of nature. the greatest ornament of the establishment is the Chapel, which is said to be the grandest piece of architecture in France, and which certainly transcends any thing of the kind that I have seen. No person can stand in the centre of the dome, and lift his eye gradually from a splendid mosaic pavement to a circle of lofty and massive pillars around him, and thence up to the vaulted and painted ceiling several hundred feet above his head, without experiencing an emotion of sublimity, which few buildings can excite. To this thrill which comes suddenly across the brain, the half dozen chapels opening around the rotunda, the superb altar over which the spectator looks, through a vista of columns beyond, and the monuments of the distinguished dead rising from the area, all materially contribute. The dust of marshal Turenne sleeps beneath the pavement, and a monu-' ment to his memory, sculptured with a figure of the hero expiring in the arms of Victory, and bearing no other inscription than his untitled name, adorns one of the chapels.

Our visit to this institution afforded us a high degree of interest and satisfaction, which continued unabated till we were without the spacious enclosure, spreading in front of the Hospital, and opening towards the Seine. These grounds display a great deal of taste; but they possess a charm beyond what an ordinary portion of walks, trees, and fountains can impart, arising from certain peculiar circumstances. Round the margin of the area an innumerable series of little gardens have been enclosed, and one of them appropriated to each of the inmates, constituting his only