At the angle formed by the Boulevards du Temple and St Martin, and opposite to the beautiful Fontaine de Boudi or des Lions, in a snug recess formed by a break in the line of building, may daily be seen a table, covered with a cloth scrupulously white, on which are arranged sundry piles of a peculiarly inviting _gâteau_. This table is constantly surrounded by a certain description of young men, whose bronzed features, mustachioed lips, and confident, insolent stare, denote the _militaire en retraite_, or half-pay officer. Here the presiding goddess is a comely dame of some forty years standing, a little inclined to _embonpoint_, with a bold masculine countenance embrowned by constant exposure, but yet having strong claim to a certain description of beauty, which she understood how to enhance by the tasteful and coquettish arrangement of her blue _cornette_ and a studied neatness in every other part of her dress. With her customers this fair dame carries on a conversation animated and somewhat free, if she likes them; but Englishmen are by no means favourites. This portrait will be readily recognised by those to whom the Boulevard St Martin is familiar. The immense number of tables spread with books, as well as little sheds for the sale of the same--and their cheapness, are quite astonishing. I may say the same of engravings, many of them really good. Equally astonishing is the open and barefaced display, in these stalls, &c., of the most licentious works, and pictures of the most indecent kind. Although the best shops are certainly in the Rue Vivienne, &c., yet are there many very splendid ones along the Boulevards, particularly the Boulevard des Italiens. Here are also some good restaurants and cafés; and, amongst other ornamental buildings, the Bains Chinois. Amid all these, however, there is a characteristic eye-sore which strikes one as quite incongruous: I allude to the intervention of shabby wooden sheds amongst goodly shops and houses. Besides the book-stalls just spoken of, one sees every here and there a long, low, mean-looking shed, its front almost all window. This is a news-room, where, for a few sols, you may read all the daily journals published in Paris, if you have patience to wait until they be disengaged, for these places are generally full; and I often amuse myself by stopping before the broad windows, always open just now, and contemplating the line of odd figures--some spectacled, others (from the manner of holding the little--after our own--minikin _feuille_ at arm’s-length) who evidently ought to be; and all absorbed in the meagre nonsense which every one of these papers I have looked into contains: a number of people may commonly be seen in attendance awaiting their turn. The fellows who keep these sheds must make a mint of money. Another feature not confined to the Boulevards, but common to all the public gardens and places of general resort, is the numbers of