ould say, "I know not whether principle or
policy, or treachery, or corruption, deterred you from the field--Your
looks exhibit no proofs of sincere resistance--However, you never
belonged to cowards."

The neapolitan ensign might excite such sentiments as these: "You appear
for a short time to have faced the battle--You were unfortunate, and
soon retired."

To the gaudy drapeaus of the italian and turkish legions, which every
where present the appearance of belonging to the wardrobe of a
pantomimic hero, he would observe, "The scent of the battle has not
perfumed you; its smoke has not sullied your shining, silky sides. Ye
appear in numbers, but display no marks of having waved before a brave,
united and energetic band."

In this manner might he trace the various fate of the war. Upon several
of the staffs only two or three shreds of colours are to be seen
adhering. These are chiefly Austrian. On each side of the chapel are
large, and some of them valuable paintings, by the french masters,
representing the conquests of the french armies at different eras.

It is a matter not unworthy of observation, that although the revolution
with a keen, and savage eye, explored too successfully, almost every
vestige of a royal tendency, the beautiful pavement under the dome of
the invalides has escaped destruction. The fleur de lis, surmounted by
the crown of France, still retains its original place, in this elegant
and costly marble flooring. The statues of the saints have been removed;
and their places are supplied by the new order of revolutionary deities;
but the names of the ancient figures have not been erased from the
pedestals of the new ones: to which omission the spectator is indebted
for a smile when contemplating the statue of Equality, he reads,
immediately below his feet, "_St. Louis_."

There is here a costly monument erected to the memory of the brave
marshal Turenne, who was killed by a cannon ball in 1675. In my humble
opinion, it is too much in the false taste of french statuary. A groupe
of weeping angels surround the recumbent hero, in the attitudes of
operatic figurantes, in whose faces, and forms, the artist has
attempted, too laboriously and artificially, to delineate the
expressions of graceful grief. On each side of the vast arch which
divides the dome from the chapel, are raised the tablets of military
honour, on which, in characters of gold, the names of those soldiers are
recorded who have disting