the fine building, so renowned all over the world. The
Palais Royal is to Paris what Paris is to France. Its history is briefly
this: Cardinal Richelieu built it for himself; but the king, Louis
XIII., was jealous, and the wily old priest gave it to the monarch, and,
after Richelieu's death, he moved into it. In 1692, it fell into the
hands of Philippe, Duke of Orleans, as a gift, or marriage portion, from
Louis XIV., and here the great Orleans collection of paintings was
gathered, and which was sold in 1789, at the breaking out of the great
troubles. In 1814, Louis Philippe obtained it as his inheritance, and
lived there till 1831. The garden is very fine, and is about seven
hundred and fifty feet by three hundred, and has beautiful rows of
lime-trees, trimmed into shape, as are most of these trees in Paris. In
the centre are flower gardens and a basin of water, with a fine
fountain. In this open space are beautiful bronze and marble statues.
One I admired exceedingly; it is Eurydice, stung by a snake. In this
garden are hundreds of persons under the trees, on chairs, which are
hired, where they read and take refreshments. Under the arcades which
surround the area are the most tasty shops of Paris, and where you may
get any thing you please. A gayer sight than this same Palais Royal, or,
as they now call it, Palais National, cannot be seen in this world. I
shall not attempt to tell you about the apartments of the palace, and
which you can read of at your leisure. What a loss it was to the world
when, in February, 1848, six hundred thousand engravings, all classified
by Louis Philippe, and making one hundred and twenty-two enormous
folios, were destroyed by the mob, and the queen's own library also!

We lounged about from one shop to another, and made purchases of some
pretty things, which we hope may serve to show friends at home that we
did not quite forget them.

The Passage d'Orleans will never die out from my memory, nor shall I
ever forget the Cafe d'Orleans, with its mirrors, walls, and ceilings,
all radiant with a thousand lights. We find at every few steps the
magazine for the Indian weed, and all varieties of pipe, from the
commonest _en bois_ to the elegantly carved _ecume de mer_, which would
cost two or three hundred francs. Here, too, are the Theatres Francais
and Palais Royal, and other places of amusement.

In our walks about the city we are sure to have all the notable places
pointed out; and one morn