ounded the coffins was preserved, as also were all remains
of the Swiss Guards, and buried on the spot. Over it an expiatory chapel
was built, with buildings adjoining, the whole forming a very beautiful
structure. An inscription on the front informs the gazer of the
principal facts I have enumerated. The adjoining garden is filled with
cypresses.

The interior of the chapel is simple, but gives a pleasant impression.
It contains two statues, one of Louis XVI., and the other of Marie
Antoinette. Each is supported by an angel, and on the pedestal of the
king his will is inscribed in letters of gold, upon a black marble slab.
On the pedestal of the queen's statue are extracts, executed in a like
manner, from her last letter to Mme. Elizabeth.

There are several niches in the chapel which contain very fine
candelebra, and on a bas-relief the funeral procession to St. Denis is
represented.

I was struck while here (as indeed I was in many other places) with the
fact, that the whole past history of Paris and France is written in her
chapels and churches. The stranger cannot, if he would, shut out the
fact from his sight. It glares in upon him from every street. The
revolutions of France have imprinted themselves upon Paris in
ineffaceable characters.

As I stood in this chapel, the sad history of Marie Antoinette came into
my thoughts, and she stood before me as she stood before the crowd on
the day of her execution. Her downfall, the wretched neglect with which
her poor body was treated, and the obscure burial, were all before me.
Only "seven francs," for the coffin of "Widow Capet!" What a contrast to
the pomp and ceremony of her second burial, aye what a contrast to her
life!

I had seen enough for that day, and set out sadly on my way back to my
apartments. The gayety in the streets, the bright and balmy air, could
not take the hue of melancholy from my thoughts. For always to me the
history of Marie Antoinette has been one of the most sorrowful I ever
read. I have few sympathies for kings, and much less for kingly tyrants,
but I could never withhold them from her, queen though she was. And I
never wish to become so fierce a democrat that I can contemplate such
sorrows as were hers, such a terrible downfall as she experienced, with
a heartless composure.

THE MADELEINE.

[Illustration: Eglise de la Madeleine.]

The Madeleine looks little like a church to the stranger, but more like
a magnificent Grecia