seem men of education, learning, and polished manners. Before I left the _Palais de Justice_, I looked in at the criminal court of the “_départment de la Seine_.” A culprit was reading a long written defence, which I had not the patience to hear concluded. The room was handsome, and the proceedings orderly and correct. I saw here nothing like a jury; yet I am told, that all capital offences are tried by that mode of process. An Italian was a few days ago tried in this court, and convicted of assassination. I regret much, that I was not present at the trial. I did not hear of the circumstance till to day. He yesterday underwent the punishment of the _guillotine_, being led to the scaffold in a red shirt, this disgrace being added to the sentence in cases of murder. I ought to mention, in honour of the present criminal laws of France, that this is the first individual, who has been condemned to death, during the six months which I have passed at Paris. Underneath the “_Palais de Justice_” is situate that fatal prison, called “_la Conciergerie_.” It was here that the sanguinary _Robespierre_ immured the daily victims of his wild and unrelenting tyranny; who awaited, within its dismal walls, the signal of death, under the insulting and degraded name of trial. It was here, that rank, beauty, age, philosophy, virtue, and patriotism, took the places of vice; and, in the caverns destined to receive the blackest perpetrators of hideous crimes, were hurled, among multitudes of other innocent and dignified characters, the learned _Condorcet_, the ingenious _Lavoisier_, the respectable _Madame Roland_, the venerable _Malesherbes_, and the lovely, courageous, and once haughty queen of France. When I have been forced to make such painful reflections, in viewing the different objects which present themselves at Paris, I have always found some consolation in looking round me, and seeing how completely that system of suspicion, bloodshed, and injustice, has passed away. Those horrors, so disgraceful to France, took place in a moment of national delirium (if I may be permitted the expression); and the inhabitants of Paris, who committed, or rather suffered, the scenes of judicial murder, which every day contaminated the streets of the capital, now, restored to their senses, are the first to deplore and execrate them. I am persuaded, that crimes like these can never again find their way into the polished metropolis of this great, brave, and ingenious people. With this hope I shall conclude my letter—a hope, in which I am certain that you will warmly and cordially unite. I am, &c. LETTER XXVIII. The gardens and walks of Paris. Paris, may the 2d, 1802 (12 floréal). MY DEAR SIR,