they are eaten here. Having finished my plate of strawberries and a bottle of very excellent _Lafitte_, I set off for the Rue de Malte; but instead of going directly thither down the Rue de Richelieu, I made another little promenade on the Boulevard, and finally down the Passage des Panoramas and Feydeau, Rue Vivienne, Palais Royal, &c. The lamps were already lighted, doors open, sentinels posted, and crowds rushing into the Théâtre des Variétés as I passed. The passages looked brilliant by the light of multitudes of lamps, and the arcades of the Palais Royal, where the illumination was only beginning, already swarmed with depravity, and proposals rung in my ears from my entrance to my sortie from this sink of iniquity. The decreasing light warned me not to loiter; so, mounting Cossack, I made the best of my way over the abominable pavement of the Faubourg St Denis, until, gaining the end of La Chapelle, the road became better adapted for rapid movement. Daylight closed, however, just as I got through St Denis, having just enough to save me from the wheels of the numerous chariots and other vehicles with which its long narrow street is always crowded. Having only open fields to traverse afterwards, I cared less; and trusting myself to Cossack’s sagacity, he soon brought me safe home--and thus ends one of the many pleasant days I have passed in this most interesting place. I find Mr Fauigny has been here to-day. He gets hot after his money. I doubt, however, if he will ever finger any of it.