ter. The trees, though leafless, look well, rearing
their tall branches towards the clear sky, and the statues and vases
seen through vistas of evergreen shrubs, with the gilded railing which
gives back the rays of the bright, though cold sun, and the rich
velvets of every hue in which the women are enveloped, giving them the
appearance of moving _parterres_ of dahlias, all render the scene a
very exhilarating one to the spirits.

I observe a difference in the usages _de moeurs_ at Paris, and in those
of London, of which an ignorance might lead to give offence. In
England, a lady is expected to bow to a gentleman before he presumes to
do so to her, thus leaving her the choice of acknowledging his
acquaintance, or not; but in France it is otherwise, for a man takes
off his hat to every woman whom he has ever met in society, although he
does not address her, unless she encourages him to do so.

In Paris, if two men are walking or riding together, and one of them
bows to a lady of his acquaintance, the other also takes off his hat,
as a mark of respect to the lady known to his friend, although he is
not acquainted with her. The mode of salutation is also much more
deferential towards women in France than in England. The hat is held a
second longer off the head, the bow is lower, and the smile of
recognition is more _amiable_, by which, I mean, that it is meant to
display the pleasure experienced by the meeting.

It is true that the really well-bred Englishmen are not to be surpassed
in politeness and good manners by those of any other country, but all
are not such; and I have seen instances of men in London acknowledging
the presence of ladies, by merely touching, instead of taking off,
their hats when bowing to them; and though I accounted for this
solecism in good breeding by the belief that it proceeded from the
persons practising it wearing wigs, I discovered that there was not
even so good an excuse as the fear of deranging them, and that their
incivility proceeded from ignorance, or _nonchalance_, while the glum
countenance of him who bowed betrayed rather a regret for the necessity
of touching his beaver, than a pleasure at meeting her for whom the
salute was intended.

Time flies away rapidly here, and its flight seems to me to mark two
distinct states of existence. My mornings are devoted wholly to reading
history, poetry, or _belles lettres_, which abstract me so completely
from the actual present to the past