Signor BRASCHI, in quality of heir, now claims the spoils, including some of the most brilliant works of the Paris gallery. He avows his willingness, however, to waive his rights, in consideration of a few millions of francs, to be paid within the year. We have a fear that the only reparation the Republic will bestow, will be the offer of an airy apartment in the _Maison des Fous_. * * * * * Keeping to Paris gossip, for want of any thing special in that way belonging to our own capital, we find this little half-incident chronicled in the French papers. Ladies, it is known (or if not known may hence forth be known) traffic in the funds at the Paris Exchange, in a way that would utterly amaze our princesses of the salon. You do not indeed see them upon the marble floor of the stately _Bourse_ itself, but at the hour of "the board," you are very sure to see a great many luxurious-looking little carriages drawn up in the neighborhood, and a great many ladies, at that special hour, are particularly zealous in their admiration of the old paintings which the dealers behind the Exchange, offer "at a bargain." Very quick-running footmen are also stirring, and report sales and offers to their mistresses with most commendable activity. Among these outsiders, some Paris romancist has remarked lately a very elegantly-dressed lady, who, three times a week, drew up her phaeton opposite the doors of the Vaudeville Theatre (which all _habitues_ will remember, is just opposite the Bourse). Chance passers imagined her to be some actress of the boards, and gazed at her accordingly. But it was observed that an "agent de change" made repeated visits to her little phaeton, and at the closing of the board our lady disappeared down the Rue Vivienne. Upon a certain day--no matter when--the bystanders were startled by piercing shrieks issuing from the phaeton of "my lady," and all ran, to prevent as they supposed, some terrible crime. Sympathy proved vain; and to the inquiries of the police the "man of business" only made phlegmatic reply, that the funds had fallen some ten per cent., and "my lady" was ruined. Three days after, and the phaeton was a _voiture de remise_ in the Rue Lepelletier. The coachman had negotiated the sale, but all tidings of "my lady" were lost. * * * * * Guinot, to whom we have been indebted again and again, has twisted out of his brain (we can not doubt it) this little happening of Paris life, which, if not true, is yet as characteristic of France as a revolution.