om
Hurst, who is now, I believe, at Chantilly; and all the officers of our
several cavalry and infantry regiments contributed their efforts to
make these races respectable in the eyes of foreigners. Be this as it
may, they were superior to those in the Champs de Mars, though under
the patronage of the King.

I shall not forget the first time I witnessed racing in Paris, for it
was more like a review of Gensdarmes and National Guards; the course
was kept by a forest of bayonets, while mounted police galloped after
the running horses, and, in some instances, reached the goal before
them. The Duc d' Angouleme, with the Duc de Guiche and the Prefet, were
present; but there was only one small stand, opposite to a sentry-box
where the judge was placed. The running, to say the least of it, was
ridiculous: horses and riders fell; and the fete, as it was called,
ended with a flourish of trumpets. Wonderful changes have taken place
since that time, and at the Bois de Boulogne and at Chantilly may be
seen running equal to that of our best races in England; and our
neighbours produce horses, bred in France, that can carry off some of
the great prizes in our own "Isthmian games."

PARISIAN CAFES IN 1815

At the present day, Paris may be said to be a city of cafes and
restaurants. The railroads and steamboats enable the rich of every
quarter of the globe to reach the most attractive of all European
cities with comparative economy and facility. All foreigners arriving
in Paris seem by instinct to rush to the restaurateurs', where
strangers may be counted by tens of thousands. It is not surprising
that we find in every important street these gaudy modern triclinia,
which, I should observe, are as much frequented by a certain class of
French people as by foreigners, for Paris is proverbially fond of
dining out; in fact, the social intercourse may be said to take place
more frequently in the public cafe than under the domestic roof.

In 1815, I need scarcely remark that the condition of the roads in
Europe, and the enormous expense of travelling, made a visit to Paris a
journey which could only be indulged in by a very limited and wealthy
class of strangers. Hotels and cafes were then neither so numerous nor
so splendid as at the present day: Meurice's Hotel was a very
insignificant establishment in the Rue de l'Echiquier; and in the Rue
de la Paix, at that time unfinished, there were but two or three
hotels, which woul