ntered, the effect of a fine painting of our Saviour
crucified, upon which the sun was shining with great glory, placed at
the extremity of the church, and seen through several lessening arches
of faint, increasing shade, was very grand. This church has been more
than once the scene of revolutionary carnage. Its elegant front is much
disfigured, and the doors are perforated, in a great number of places,
by the ball of cannon and the shot of musketry. Mass was performing in
the church; but we saw only few worshippers, and those were chiefly old
women and little girls.

From St. Rocque we proceeded to the Hotel des Invalides, the chapel and
dome of which are so justly celebrated. The front is inferior to the
military hospital at Chelsea, to which it bears some resemblance. The
chapel is converted into the Hall of Victory, in which, with great
taste, are suspended, under descriptive medallions, the banners of the
enemies of the republic, which have been taken during the late war, the
numbers of which are immense. The same decoration adorns the pilasters
and gallery at the vast, magnificent dome at the end of the hall.

My eye was naturally occupied, immediately after we had entered, in
searching amongst the most _battered_ of the banners, for the british
colours: at last I discovered the jack and ensign of an english man of
war, pierced with shot-holes, and blackened with smoke, looking very
sulky, and indignantly, amongst the finery, and tawdry tatters of
italian and turkish standards.

In the course of this pursuit, I caught the intelligent eye of Madame
S----. She immediately assigned to my search the proper motive. "Ah!"
said she, laughingly, and patting me on the arm with her fan, "we are,
as you see, my dear Englishman, very vain; and you are very proud."

A stranger to the late calamitous war, unable to marshal in his mind the
enemies of the republic, might here, with a glance of his eye, whilst
contemplating this poor result of devastation, enumerate the foes of
France, and appreciate the facilities or difficulties of the victory.

In observing, amidst this gaudy show of captive colours, only two
hardworn banners of their rival enemy, he would draw a conclusion too
flattering and familiar to an English ear, to render it necessary to be
recorded here.

Upon the shattered standards of Austria he would confer the meed of
merited applause for heroic, although unprevailing bravery.

To the banners of Prussia he w