eared_ like a hedge. The branches have been so cared for and
trimmed, that the side presented is perfectly even and a mass of green.
Still this, though curious, is not beautiful. Trees need to grow
naturally for that. Art cannot surpass nature in this way. The grove is
full of beauty. Walks run every way over it, and the trees are so
trimmed and cultivated that beautiful arches are formed over nearly all
the paths. This constitutes the forest, one of the most singular in
Paris, and it is a novel sight to the stranger. On the north side of the
groves there is a collection of orange trees, and in among them are set
a large quantity of chairs, which are rented by a person in attendance
for two sous an hour. So for two cents, a man can sit and rest himself
in one of the most delicious spots in Paris. This is a peculiar feature
of all the gardens of Paris. No free seats are furnished, but an old
woman is sure to select some shady and enchanting spot whereon to
arrange her chairs, which are for rent. Indeed, there are many places on
the Boulevard where this practice obtains, to the great joy of
numberless tired pedestrians.

In front of the _Tuileries palace_ there is a choice garden of flowers
and plants enclosed by an iron railing. The flowers were in bloom when
last I saw it, and were exceedingly beautiful. Directly in front of this
garden a fine fountain is always playing, and scattered in every
direction is a profusion of statuary. There are some magnificent groups,
but again others are disgusting in their sensuality. There are several
pieces of statuary scattered among the trees of the grove. One of them,
a statue of Venus, is an exquisite conception, and so very pure that I
wondered it should have found a place in a French garden. But not far
from it there were two nude figures which were so shockingly sensual,
and so clearly were intended by the sculptor to be so, that I turned
away half indignant. Yet while I walked in the grove more than one
French lady stopped leisurely to look at them through her glass.

When the weather is warm, the fashionable pedestrians flock to the trees
of the Tuileries gardens, and among its cool recesses sit and talk the
hours away. When the weather is colder and sunshine is desirable, the
grounds immediately in front of the palace are more pleasant, as there
the cold winds come not.

The Luxembourg gardens I have spoken of with some particularity in
another place.

The _Jardin d' Hive