Notwithstanding the republican almanack, and the use of it in all public acts, newspapers, &c. which makes the year begin with vendémiaire, answering to our 23d of september, the first of January is still considered as solely entitled to these honours. The Palais royal, as it is universally called (notwithstanding its first revolutionary and already superannuated name of “_Jardin d’Egalité_,” and its present constitutional one of “Palais du Tribunat,”) was thronged this morning with persons of all classes, who soon dispersed themselves among the various shops, in order to purchase these little annual presents, or “étrennes,” as they are called in the language of the country. The jewellers vied with each other in displaying, in their windows, all the taste, fashion, and magnificence, of their choicest merchandise; and diamond rings, pearl lockets, and amber necklaces, offered to gallantry elegant but expensive means of testifying its ardour. The milliners brought forth their finest lace, their most tawdry colours, and their most extravagant patterns; and the confectioners, with streamers at their door, ornamented cakes within, perfumed _bonbons_, and amorous mottoes, soon found the means of filling their respective shops. What an extraordinary place is the Palais royal! There is nothing like it in any town in Europe. I remember hearing an english epicure once observe, “that as soon as the peace took place, he would give himself the happiness of passing six weeks in the Palais royal, without once going out of its gates.” Certainly, if a man be contented with sensual pleasures, there is not one which he may not gratify within the walls of this building. Restaurateurs, or taverns, where dinners are served from ten sols to two louis a head. Coffee houses, where, for three-pence, the lounger may pass the whole of his day in playing chess, talking politics, or reading the papers. Gambling houses, where the man of pleasure, at the risk of all that is dearest to him in life, purchases the anxious feelings which fear and hope excite, and where the _chevalier d’industrie_ finds the disgraceful means of a dishonourable existence. Tailors, haberdashers, silversmiths, and watchmakers, offer every variety of clothing, of ornament, and of machinery. Booksellers’ shops are seen in every corner, where the _homme de lettres_ finds his favourite authors, the romantic young lady her novels, and the politician his pamphlets. Opticians, where the frequenter of _spectacles_ purchases his opera glass, and the philosopher his telescope. Crowds of unfortunate, and sometimes lovely females, challenge, with every variety of dress, the attention of passengers, and, while they offer a too easy banquet to libertines and dotards, fill every reflecting mind with pity and with sorrow. Such are the objects which the _Palais royal_ presents. I ought to add, that while the cellars are filled with inferiour _restaurateurs_,