tastes and manners may be granted, but that does not prove that foreigners, who are cradled, nursed and brought up in these customs, will be affected in like manner.  American and English tourists are alike shocked and provoked at the sight of the innumerable nude statues and paintings, on the, pleasure gardens and in the art galleries, but the ladies of the continent seem to see as little of indecencies or improprieties in those things, as we do in opening our Bibles and seeing saints and apostles represented with bare feet—­the toes standing out naked over the sandals, or when we read in the family circle and in the public capacity of teachers and ministers, passages from Scriptures, such as no one would be capable of reading if they were found in a periodical or a newspaper.

During my first month on the continent, I was often vexed to think that much of what I saw, that was not only very interesting and impressive, but which had likewise an important bearing on history, was of such a nature that it would either constitute unfit material for general diffusion, or seem to be incredible to the average reader.

We went down Boulevard (pron.  Bool’var’) de Magenta about one-third of a mile, to Boulevard de Strasbourg, (pron.  Straws’boor’), thence along that avenue (?) to the foot of it (another third of a mile) and continued our walk down Boulevard de Sebastopol to Rue de Rivoli, along which latter street we went half a mile west, where my friend, guide and teacher procured for me a room not far from his home.

[With this gentleman I spent from three to five hours daily, during my first stay of fifteen days, in walking about the city seeing sights and studying French reading and pronunciation].

As soon as I had taken my room, I retraced my steps to the railway station and fetched my sachel; this time, alone.  It was not a little task, for the distance from my quarters, which were near the center of Paris, to the station, was over two miles.  The names of the Boulevards “Magenta, Strasbourg and Sebastopol,” I was constantly repeating in my mind, so that I might not forget the way that I had come with my friend, the first time.  It was dark by the time I reached my lodging place the second time, but I had seen and learned enough for one day.  Almost two miles of Boulevards and nearly half a mile of Rue de Rivoli (the finest Rue in Paris) thrice walked that afternoon, had presented to me more that was new, than I had expected to see in a week.

The Boulevards,

like a dozen other of the distinguishing features of Paris, are new things to the American; and as they are quite different from anything that I have yet seen of the kind in this country, I shall here take room to note some of their striking characteristics.  They are the grandest streets in Paris, sustaining about the same relation to the “Rues” that the avenues in our American cities sustain to the streets.