The best seats in Velpeau's amphitheatre have the name of American seats, as they are always filled by the Yankees, who have gone and occupied them long before the lecture commences, in order to secure them. The skilful and intelligent instructors, who have what are called "private courses," are mainly paid by Americans, whose generally short stay prevents their attending to the courses given by the faculty, as they are extended through too great a length of time; some of them indeed last several years. From sunrise to sunset, literally speaking, they are engaged in the close and arduous study of their profession. The evening recreations of operas and visits, are very often given up to continue their scientific pursuits. Where they have studied one hour in America, they study two here. The few hours that are given for recreation, are no more than exhausted nature, and the fatigued brain, demand.

The physicians of the hospitals give the American superior advantages to other students, even to their own. They reason upon this principle. The "United States is more than three thousand miles distant. These young men have come this great distance to a country, whose manners, customs, and language are different from their own. They visit us at a great expense. Why have they put themselves to such peril and inconvenience, placed themselves in such a disagreeable positon, often without the power of speaking and comprehending in a foreign country; and subjected themselves to the necessity of expending so largely for their indispensable wants? It is because they are resolved to investigate the science, which they have commenced, under the best advantages, and to make themselves thorough masters of it. I will second such devotion. The doors of my hospital shall be open to them, and they shall have encouragement in prosecuting their investigations." The standing of those who have been here before us, warrant such a belief, and such conduct on their part. May the future show, that the present generation have not "fallen from their high estate," and are not inferior to their predecessors.

XXVII.

Celebration of the King's Birth-day.

THE tumult is over; the hubbub has ceased; the last rocket has long since exploded; the falling rain has undoubtedly extinguished the only remaining lamp, which illuminated the gardens, and the populace have returned to their labour. In short, the Fete de Roi, the anniversary of the birth of Louis Philippe is past. Like the calm that succeeds the storm, an unusual stillness reigns throughout the city. This very natural effect is no doubt deepened by the gloomy weather, which has followed, as a shadow, the brilliant sunshine, which yesterday shone so propitiously.

The fêtes in France are more quiet and orderly than formerly. The disorder of preceding years is attributable to the fact, that food of various kinds, and wine, used to be served to the public by the king. Hogsheads of the latter were placed in the public squares, with dippers attached, and any one who was athirst, might go, and drink as much, and as often as he desired. At the coronation of Napoleon, it is related, that the Fountain of the Innocents, in one of the market-places, ran wine throughout the day. Such freedom could not but be abused, and excess with all the natural consequences, was universal. Louis Philippe, seeing the hazardous results, wisely put a stop to the practice. Provisions, no longer distributed promiscuously, are given to the poor at their rooms. The effects of this are very evident. Now, even on the days of fêtes, a person intoxicated is rarely seen. Drunkenness, indeed, is not near so common, as in any of the cities of the United States, even where the teetotal societies are prevalent. Those societies are not known here. Everybody drinks, not only their light wines, but brandies and stronger liquors, and usually with discretion.

Deputations from all classes of people waited yester

day upon the king to wish him health and happiness, and many joyous returns of this his natal day. Fêtes are not for the rich and powerful, but for the poor; we will therefore leave the palace behind us, and accompany the crowd to the great square of the Champs Elysées. The way conducts us through the gardens of the Tuilleries; and as the immense multitude obstruct rapid locomotion, we linger beside the basins of water, and admire the jet, which glitters in the sunbeams the numerous gold and silver fish which sport in the ripples, and the merry faces of the children, who stand around, feeding the pretty sparkling finny creatures with bread and cake crumbs. When fatigued with this, we turn to another scene, were the graceful swan floats lightly, as a snow-flake on the blue water, arching his long neck to collect the donations cast to him. Before us a most magnificent prospect opens. Round us, and before us, as far as the eye can reach, a double row of trees line the long avenue;-the elm with pendent limbs, and the borsechestnut, now in the pride of its beauty. By constant pruning and attention, their symmetry is rendered perfect. The branches, which, when bare and leafless in winter, have such an air of prudery, now clothed in gay attire, and adorned with their finely contrasted blossoms, present a rare object of elegance. At the extremity of this grand avenue, two or three miles before us, relieved by a back ground of remote blue hills, stands the pride of art, the proud Arc de Triomphe de l'Etoile, one hundred and fifty-two feet in height, seeming even at this distance still more immense. Nearer to us, surrounded by golden lamps, rises the obelisk of Luxor, appearing to pierce the great arch of the Arc de Triomphe. The remainder of the way to the great porte of the palace is embellished by a host of marble statues of great value. It is the sight of such beauties and objects of splendid luxury, as these, which surround and grace the palaces of monarchs, that can alone awaken in my bosom any love for royalty.

But, while we loiter here, the amusements of the day are commencing. In the Place Concorde, the tritons and sea-nymphs-altogether too handsome for fish-womenstill hold fast their bronze dolphins, from whose mouths a jet of water is thrown into a basin above, to fall again

into a thousand pellucid sparkles below. Not all of it, however, thus escapes. Not a little goes to fill the tin vessels borne about upon the backs of many a man and woman, which, half-boiled by the sun, and sweetened with radix glycyrrhizae, or liquorice root, is drunk by any one that chooses-not I-for a sou the glass. A little bell, incessantly tinkling, like that borne on the neck of a grazing cow, keeps you perpetually aware of the presence of these sweet itinerant pedlars. This is the best proof I have at command, of the fact, that the French are a liquorish people.

As we proceed up the Champs Elysées, the crowd increasing at every step, we find its sides lined with booths of every description. Here one plays rouge et noir for macaroons, or swings a ring suspended from a cross tree, ten feet perhaps in height, attempting to catch it on some hooks placed in front; his success is to be rewarded in the same coin, differing in amount from the number placed upon the hook. If fond of sporting, take a gun, whose crooked barrel one would imagine was intended to shoot around a corner, and fire little rockets at a bird, hanging from the top of a pole twenty feet high. If of a warlike, destructive disposition, near at hand is a stuffed man with a wooden heart; hit it, if you can, at three feet distance, with a pop-gun crossbow. If you are not content with an exhibition of your skill, without doing any damage, advance to the next. The scene before you represents, in a moment, an army of Moors, each man a foot distant from his neighbour. "Pick off the officers" was General Putnam's order at the battle of Bunker Hill; so you aim at the captain. Ah! you have knocked him over, and in his fall he touched a spring, and out runs an old woman with a long red nose, and a pail in her hand. Kill the corporal, and another rushes into the scene, mounted on a pig, whose tail looks as if it had not yet done curling, to such an intensity is it twisted. When you have thus done it effectually for Abd-el Kader and all the hostile Arabs in Africa, behold no dead are to be found. The attendant woman sets them up, and they are quite as sound again as ever. Like many other warriors, victorious without results, let us go to the next, where the damage we may do, cannot be so easily repaired. Rough and fragile images of crockery are here,

pieces of glass with figures painted on them. Now give the organ of destructiveness the rein. The fragments jingle as they fall into the basket below. Isn't it delicious? And all for two or three sous; a good investment. Novelties thicken, as we proceed. What keeps them laughing so perpetually in this quarter? Why, at one extremity of the circle, perhaps I should say, one of the foci of the ellipse, there is a post to which a tin pot is attached. At the other focus fifteen feet off, we see a young man give a sou to the proprietor, who in return presents him with a stick. He places on the youth's head, concealing it entirely, a horrid looking mask, the eyes of which look crosswise. With this he can see nothing. Confident of success, where so many others have failed, he advances, thus blindfolded, to strike the pot with his cane. He proceeds very cautiously in a direct line, as he supposes, but following, as the bystanders well know, each eye of his mask by turns, till getting near the object by his computation, with deliberate care he deals the blow, which he is confident will make the old pot ring like a church bell. But the only sound which reaches his ear, is the universal merriment of all around. The mask is removed, and he is astonished to perceive that he has "missed the wrong house" by a long distance. Notwithstanding the shortness of the space, and the apparent ease of the performance, I saw but one hit the pot, among several essays made during my stay. Do you wish to know your temperament? A man is ready to give you the information with a hand thermometer. This has two glass globes, united by a hollow tube, and filled with spirits of wine. The warmth of the hand causes the fluid to run from one ball to the other, and the height to which it ascends, indicates the temperament. Changing hands, he counts in a loud voice, five, ten, fifteen, twenty, as long as the liquid rises, and this shows the degree. Men are content to spend five sous in order to learn that they are ten degrees of "sanguinity" or something else.

Arrived, at length, at the Grand Square, maugre the innumerable obstacles, which impede, or attractions, that divert; in the midst of an ocean of heads in constant motion to catch a glimpse, but always interposing before, hehind, around, everywhere, one may possibly succeed in