these little animals had drawn the guns back again, and had actually arrived on the banks of the Vistula (I think he said), when they were countermanded, and had now arrived a second time in Paris. Is not this quite astonishing? I could well enter into the feeling of satisfaction and complacency with which he begged my opinion as to their appearance, and unhesitatingly gratified him with my unqualified admiration of them. How could it be otherwise! They were round as barrels, sleek-coated, and full of life and spirit--in short, they were so beautiful that the thing looked more like a showy toy than what had for two years been incessantly in the field. The review over, I called on Sir Edward Barnes and asked his intercession with the Duke to obtain my leave, which he readily promised; so I adjourned to No. 36 Rue Mont Blanc, had some chat with Bell, heard his fair young hostess play the “Exile” again, and returned to my dominions. _September 2d._--Care less about Paris than I did, and stay more at home. The parapet of the bridge becomes again my smoking lounge. _7th._--This morning I received the long-wished-for leave of absence for two months; and wishing to start immediately, Ambrose and I rode up to town to take my place in the diligence for Calais. The Bureau des Diligence is in the Cour des Messageries, Rue Nôtre Dame de la Victoire--an establishment of which I had before no conception. The court is very large; there are several offices for different coaches; but what surprised me most was the parade of those heavy dismal-looking machines--I think there must have been fifty drawn up round the court. For Calais there was no room, therefore I have taken my places--one inside for self, one in the cabriolet for William--in the Amiens diligence, which starts to-morrow morning at five o’clock. The seats inside, &c., are not left as with us to the first comer, &c. On paying my fare I received a ticket with the number of my seat on it, which will be respected until I am taken up at St Denis, where they expect to be by six o’clock. I know not whether the feeling be common to others, but I never leave a place where I have tarried ever so short a time without regret; accordingly my approaching departure has imparted a tinge of melancholy that I cannot shake off. Latterly I have been tolerably comfortable here; have got reconciled to my house; acquainted with the inhabitants; into a certain routine of amusements and occupations. The weather had been generally fine, though hot; and everything had begun to assume a hue _couleur de rose_: no wonder, then, that a slight cloud should interfere to alloy in some degree the joy at returning to all most dear to me.