On Saturday we went to St. Cloud, Versailles, and the great and little Trianon. St. Cloud and the great Trianon were the especial residences of Buonaparte, and I looked at his bed and tables and chairs with some curiosity. I have not time to describe all these. I saw one public place yesterday which should be mentioned, a museum of models in every department of art and science, with all the machines, &c., connected with them. I would willingly conclude my observations on Paris with some remarks on its manners, principles, &c., and I would begin with Religion first if I could, but the fact is there appears to be none. If any does exist it must approximate to Mysticism and lie concealed in the recesses of the heart, for truly "the right hand knoweth not what the left hand doeth." But with all this non-appearance I should be cautious in passing too severe a censure. It must be remembered that the nation is military, that from the earliest years they "sing of arms," and Buonaparte carried this to such a degree that even children not much older than Owen[78] are to be seen in full Uniforms. He wished to incorporate the two terms of man and soldier. We laughed, you remember, at the account of the little King of Rome appearing in Uniform; in Paris this would not appear ridiculous. He had uniforms of all the favourite regiments horse and foot.... [Illustration: PARISIAN AMUSEMENTS. _to face p. 141._] But yet there appears to be less vice than in England, I should rather say less organised vice; I have not heard of a single Robbery, public or private--I walk without fear of pickpockets; I should be inclined to say they seemed rather against themselves than against each other. Their principles may be more relaxed on some points than ours, but I doubt much whether a Frenchman would not be as much disgusted in England as an Englishman could possibly be in France; we call them a profligate race and condemn them in toto--something like Hudibras' John Bull-- "Compounds for sin he is inclined to By damning those he has no mind to." Their public walks and Theatres are less offensive to decency than ours. Drunkenness is scarcely known; at first sight I should pronounce them an idle, indolent people; the streets are almost always full; the gardens, public walks, &c., swarm at all hours with saunterers. According to my ideas a Frenchman's life must be wretched, for he does not seem at all to enter into the charms of home--their houses are not calculated for it; they huddle together in nooks and corners, and the male part (judging from the multitudes I daily see) leave the women and children to get through the day as they can.