great abundance of wood, is more
strikingly rural than in any other country I know. The inhabitant of
Paris can quit his own door in the centre of the place, and after
walking an hour he finds himself truly in the country, both as to the
air of external objects, and as to the manners of the people. The
influence of the capital doubtless has some little effect on the latter,
but not enough to raise them above the ordinary rusticity, for the
French peasants are as rustic in their appearance and habits as the
upper classes are refined.

One of my rides is through the plain that lies between St. Ouen and
Montmartre, ascending the latter by its rear to the windmills that,
night and day, are whirling their ragged arms over the capital of
France. Thence I descend into the town by the carriage road. A view from
this height is like a glimpse into the pages of history; for every foot
of land that it commands, and more than half the artificial accessories,
are pregnant of the past. Looking down into the fissures between the
houses, men appear the mites they are; and one gets to have a
philosophical indifference to human vanities by obtaining these
bird's-eye views of them in the mass. It was a happy thought that first
suggested the summits of mountains for religious contemplation; nor do I
think the father of evil discovered his usual sagacity when he resorted
to such a place for the purposes of selfish temptation: perhaps,
however, it would be better to say, he betrayed the grovelling
propensities of his own nature. The cathedral of Notre Dame should have
been reared on this noble and isolated height, that the airs of heaven
might whisper through its fane, breathing the chaunts in honour of God.

Dismounting manfully, I have lately undertaken a far more serious
enterprise--that of making the entire circuit of Paris on foot. My
companion was our old friend Captain ----. We met by appointment at
eleven o'clock, just without the Barriere de Clichy, and ordering the
carriage to come for us at five, off we started, taking the direction of
the eastern side of the town. You probably know that what are commonly
called the _boulevards_ of Paris, are no more than a circular line of
wide streets through the very heart of the place, which obtain their
common appellation from the fact that they occupy the sites of the
ancient walls. Thus the street within this circuit is called by its
name, whatever it may happen to be, and if continued wit