stone, or brick, that were ever ushered in with a paragraph in the 'Stranger's Guide'—'This magnificent, &c., well deserves all a stranger's attention.' In my plan of Paradise, people will ride very little, and walk not at all. In revenge, they shall have the most comfortable chairs, and talk from morning to night. Now, if my plan of Paradise does not suit people, they have only to form one according to their own fancy. I cannot tell you what great kindness I have received from everybody, or the charming notes and the too charming speeches. I am sure the French well deserve their character for amiability and politeness, or, I really should rather say, kindness. I shall return with the most pleasant and grateful recollections. I have been reading a great many French works; truly it is well that I wear my hair tightly banded, or it would certainly have risen straight on my head with downright dismay and astonishment. Yet there is extraordinary talent—every page full of new ideas and thoughts—they want nothing but a little religion and a little decency—two trifling wants, to be sure. The whole of French conversation, as far as I can judge, is much more intellectual, with more thought, and less about persons, than in England. . . . . We went to Nôtre Dame—such a fine old church, and such a view of Paris to look down upon; for we went up to the very top, and, hot as it was, I was glad that we had done so. Indeed, I have taken quite a course of old churches, though I am not turned Catholic. The shops are, as the prophet said of Damascus, too delightful; but I cannot say that, excepting two or three slight things, the articles are so cheap as in London. Silks, muslins, prints, ribbons, pelerines, are awfully dear. We have