It is not a little flattering to the vanity of an englishman, to see how rapidly the french are adopting our fashions; and, notwithstanding the awkward manner in which they are sometimes copied, yet such is the general bias, that I entertain no doubt that, in the space of ten years, (if the peace should last so long), it will become almost impossible to distinguish, by his dress, a native of France from one of England. The ladies of Paris, and those of London, differ, indeed, very widely in their toilet. Perhaps they might reciprocally improve by observing each other; and while the former would do right to respect and imitate the modesty, with which the latter are usually clad, our fair countrywomen might also, without any injury to their beauty, or any violation of that delicacy, which is their brightest ornament, adopt some of that taste, elegance, and fancy, which are often seen in the dress of a well bred frenchwoman. Adieu, my dear sir. I am heartily tired of my subject, and fear you will have been so some time. I therefore take my leave for the present. I am, &c. LETTER XXVI. _Te Deum_ sung at _Notre Dame_, in honour of the peace and the reestablishment of religion.—Military insolence.—Account of the ceremony.—Illuminations in the evening.—Indifference of the people. Paris, april the 18th, 1802, Easter Sunday (28 germinal.) MY DEAR SIR, To day will probably be long remembered in the annals of France, on account of the promulgation of the law for (“_l’établissement des cultes_”) the reestablishment of religion; on account of the definitive treaty of peace with England, the ratifications of which were exchanged this morning at the Thuilleries; and of the “Te Deum” sung at _Notre Dame_, in honour of these united events.