e from the Bibliotheque du Roi--coupled with
the oppressive heat of the weather--rendered my morning excursions thither
rather uncomfortable; and instead of going to work with elastic spirits,
and an untired frame, both Mr. Lewis and myself felt jaded and oppressed
upon our arrival. We are now, on the contrary, scarcely fifty yards from
the grand door of entrance into the library. But this is only tantalizing
you. To the LIBRARY, therefore, at once let us go. The exterior and
interior, as to architectural appearance, are rather of a sorry
description: heavy; comparatively low, without ornament, and of a dark and
dingy tint. Towards the street, it has the melancholy air of a workhouse.
But none of the apartments, in which the books are contained, look into
this street; so that, consequently, little inconvenience is experienced
from the incessant motion and rattling of carts and carriages--the Rue de
Richelieu being probably the most frequented in Paris. Yet, repulsive as
may be this exterior, it was observed to me--on my suggesting what a fine
situation the quadrangle of the Louvre would make for the reception of the
royal library--that, it might be questioned whether even _that_ quadrangle
were large enough to contain it;--and that the present building, however
heavy and ungracious of aspect, was better calculated for its present
purpose than probably any other in Paris. In the centre of the edifice--for
it is a square, or rather a parallelogram-shaped building--stands a bronze
naked figure of Diana; stiff and meagre both in design and execution. It is
of the size of life; but surely a statue of _Minerva_ would have been a
little more appropriate? On entering the principal door, in the street just
mentioned, you turn to the right, and mount a large stone staircase--after
attending to the request, printed in large characters, of "_Essuyez vos
Souliers_"--as fixed against the wall. This entrance goes directly to the
collection of PRINTED BOOKS. On reaching the first floor, you go straight
forward, within folding doors; and the first room, of considerable extent,
immediately receives you. The light is uniformly admitted by large windows,
to the right, looking into the quadrangle before mentioned.

You pass through this room--where scarcely any body lingers--and enter the
second, where are placed the EDITIONES PRINCIPES, and other volumes printed
in the fifteenth century. To an _experienced_ eye, the first view of the
content