The reader will here see that I have before me the materials for another book, but as the object of this work is attained, and its limits approached, with my known aversion to travel over frequented ground, I must refer him to other pens than mine for what I might have written had I the room for it, and had it not been written twenty times before. The little bit of my life thus spent in the capital of France, though filled with anxieties and grief, has had its pleasant parts, having seen much to instruct and amuse me, and having also met with, as in London, many warm friends, to whom I shall feel attached as long as I live. In the English society in Paris I met a number of my London friends, where the acquaintance was renewed, with great kindness on their parts, and with much pleasure to myself. I met also many American families residing in Paris; and, added to their numbers, the constant throng of Americans who are passing to and from the classic ground of the East, or making their way across the Atlantic to the French metropolis, and swelling their occasional overflowing and cheerful soirées. At these I saw many of the élite and fashionable of the French, and noticed also, and much to my regret, as well as surprise, that, in the various intercourse I had in different classes, the Americans generally mixed less with the English than the French society. This is probably attributable in a great degree to the passion which English and Americans have, in their flying visits to the city of all novelties, to see and study something new, instead of spending their valuable time with people of their own family and language, whom and whose modes they can see at home. This I deem a pity; and though among the passing travellers the cause is easily applied, and the excuse as easily accepted, yet among the resident English and Americans, of whom there are a great many and fashionable families, there seems a mutual unsocial and studied reserve, which stands in the way of much enjoyment, that I believe lies at the doors of kindred people in a foreign land. My time, however, was so much engrossed with anxieties and grief and my application to my art, that I shared but moderately in the pleasures of any society; and the few observations I have been able to make I have consequently drawn from less intercourse than has been had by many others, who have more fully described than I could do had this book been written for the purpose. My interviews with society in this part of the world, as far as they have been held, have been general, and my observations, I believe, have been unbiassed. And as I mingled with society to see and enjoy, but not to describe, my remarks in this place, on the society and manners of Parisians and people in Paris, must end here, and necessarily be thus brief, to come within the bounds of my intentions in commencing this work.