You are probably next attracted by a crowd at a short distance, surrounding an exhibition, dear to every English heart--that of "Punch." The same familiar sentry-box, hung with the same green baize, hides the same mysteries which are known to every body. But the part of "Hamlet"--that is to say, "Punch"--though not exactly omitted, is certainly not "first business." His hunch has lost its fullness; his nose, its rubicundity; and his profligacy, its point. He is a feeble wag when translated into French, and has a successful rival in the person of one Nicolet--who, by the way, gives its name to the theatre--and who is chiefly remarkable for a wonderful white hat, and a head wooden enough, even for a low comedian. Nicolet is supposed to be a fast man. His enemies are not policemen and magistrates, as in the case of "Punch," but husbands--for the reason that his friends are among the wives. This seems to be the "leading idea" of the drama of Nicolet, in common, indeed, with that of every other French piece on record. If it were not considered impertinent in the present day to draw morals, I might suggest that something more than amusement is to be gained by contemplating the young children among the crowd, who enjoy the delinquencies of this _Faublas_ for the million, with most precocious sagacity. It is delightful, in fact, to see the gusto with which they anticipate innuendoes, and meet improprieties half way, with all the well-bred composure of the most fashionable audience. It is not customary among the students to wait for the end of Nicolet's performances. The fashionable hour for departure varies; but it is generally about the period when the manager's wife begins to take round the hat. Any one who accompanies a party of students in their morning rambles, will most probably find himself, before long, in the "Closerie des Lilacs," which is close by the same spot. The "Closerie" is associated in name with lilacs, probably from the fact that it contains fewer flowers of that description than any other place in the neighborhood. It is a garden somewhat resembling Vauxhall; and at dusk there is an attempt made at lighting it up, especially on certain evenings in the week which are devoted to balls. These balls do not vary materially from any other twopenny dances, either in London or Paris; but as a morning lounge, the place is not without attractions. One of them, is the fact that there is no charge for admission, the proprietor merely expecting his guests to _convenue_ something--a regulation which is generally obeyed without much objection.