ORNING, _July 13th_.

We are in Paris still, and do not depart till to-morrow, dedicating this
day in company with the Murrays to St. Denis and Malmaison, and then I
think we shall have seen everything worth seeing in or near this queer
metropolis. One day last week we went to our old friend, L'abbe
Sicard,[123] and attended a lecture in which about 20 of his young
scholars exhibited their powers. The poor Abbe was, as usual, dreadfully
prolix, and occupied an hour in words which might have been condensed
within the compass of a Minute, and poor Massuer yawned and shut his
eyes ever and anon. Clair was not there, and as we were under the
necessity of going away before the Lecture was closed, we could not
renew our acquaintance. Since last year he has taught his pupils to
speak, and two dumb boys talked to each other with great success. I will
show you the mode when we meet, but as you are not dumb it will be a
mere gratification of Curiosity. Our Assignation which called us from
the Lecture was to meet the Sothebys and Murrays and many others at the
Buvin d'Enfer, near which is the descent to the Catacombs, where upwards
of 3 million of Skulls are arranged in tasty grimaces thro' Streets of
Bones, but my Sketch Book has long given an idea of these ossifatory
Exhibitions. Only think, a cousin of Donald's and a very great friend of
mine, a Capt. McDonald, whom you would all be in love with, he is so
handsome and interesting, was shut up there a short time ago by
accident, and if the Keeper had not luckily recollected the number of
persons who descended and discovered one was missing, he would very soon
have joined the bone party. There is another Cimetiere called that of
Pere la Chaise, of a very different description, and infinitely more
interesting. It is the grand burial-place of Paris; all who choose may
purchase little plots of ground, from a square foot to an acre, for the
deposition of themselves and their families. Its extent is about 84
French acres, and upon no spot in the world is the French character so
perfectly portrayed. Each individual encloses his plot and ornaments it
as he chooses, and the variety is quite astonishing. It appears like a
large Shop full of toys, work-baskets, Columns, little Cottages,
pyramids, mounts--in short, what is there in the form of a Monument
which may not there be found? A pert little Column with a fanciful top,
crowned by a smart wire basket filled with roses, marked the grave,