Upon inquiry I learnt that the greater part of the curiosities collected in this place were the fruits of victorious pillage, and I was told that this measure was justified by the right of conquest. “Par suite de la conquête de la Hollande, ils sont tombés au pouvoir des Français--nous les avons emportés comme trophées de nos victoires. Ainsi Alexandre le Grand fit passer dans la Grèce les éléphans du Roi de Perse.” The amphitheatre is a public building, within this garden, where lectures are given by professors, nominated and paid by the Government. I attended the chemical lecture of Fourcroy; he delivers himself with purity, eloquence and cleverness. He exercises (what would be deemed extraordinary in any country but this) the two functions of a public lecturer on science and a Counsellor of State, in which latter capacity he often discusses political measures before the Legislative Body. All the benches of the amphitheatre are in a semicircular form, rising one above the other, and capable of containing 2000 persons. The lecturer is stationed at the bottom, with a large table and apparatus before him. There is no doubt students in chemistry derive advantages from those lectures, but much of their good effect is impaired by the amphitheatre being considered a fashionable lounge for the idle and a favourite place of “rencontre” between the fair Parisian and her lover. The women constitute a distinguished part of the auditory, and in number and noise are not inferior to the males. There are thirteen professors in this institution, whereof seven are members of the French “Académie,” or Institut, and one an Associate. _Fourcroy_, Professor of Chemistry; _Desfontaines_, Botany; _Lamark_, Zoology; _Thonin_, Gardening; and _Vanspaendorick_, of Ichnography, have each a pleasant dwelling, free of expense, in the garden. In the centre of the garden and near a pool of water, is a small hamlet, where philosophical students and the curious may entertain themselves on girls and burgundy, of a wretched quality and at a trifling expense. I am at a loss to explain how the sage superintendent of his museum should have licensed the existence of his hovel, devoted to disreputable practices, in the sequestered bowers of Acadème. Unless it be meant as a practical illustration of the moral tendency of Darwin’s Loves of the Plants--a work greatly admired here. The Botanical Garden, itself, fell very far short of my expectations; it is neither well laid out nor pleasing to the eye. The garden is about 2000 feet long and 700 wide, divided into three alleys, terminating in the public walks.