individual. I sat down at one of the fables. "Waiter, I'll thank you to bring me breakfast." "What will you have, Sir ?" said he in reply; for the price of breakfast, and particularly other meals, is regulated by what one calls for. There are no fixed hours; come in when you may, and call for what you choose, if it is to be obtained in the market, it is immediately provided. You are perfectly independent. You may have all, if you are rich enough to pay for all. There you sit alone; eat your dinner; pick over your nuts and raisins; and read the newspaper. No one thinks of you, speaks to you, or even looks at you. All keep aloof. They don't know you. They would esteem it almost the compromise of their dignity to speak. Both the English and Americans are generous by nature; but English laws and institutions very naturally confine their courtesy to the circle of their acquaintance; while ours, on the contrary, gives us a freedom of manner towards all men, which no circumstances ever disturb.

LOVE OF COUNTRY.

WHEREVER, O man, God's first sun beamed upon thee-where the stars of heaven first shone above thee-where his lightenings first declared his omnipotence, and his storm-wind shook thy soul with pious awe-there are thy affections-there is thy country.

Where the first human eye bent lovingly over thy cradle-where thy mother first bore thee joyfully on her bosom-where thy father engraved the words of wisdom on thy heart-there are thy affections-there is thy country.

And though it be among bare rocks and desert islands, and though poverty and care dwell there with thee, thou mayest love that land for ever; for thou art man, and thou canst not forget it, but it must abide in thine

inmost heart.

And freedom is no empty dream-no barren imagination-but in her dwells thy courage, and thy pride, and the certainty that thou art of high and heavenly race.

There is freedom where thou canst live in the customs, and fashions, and laws, of thy fathers; where that which rejoiced their hearts rejoiced thine; where no foreign oppressor can command thee, no foreign ruler drive thee according to his will, as cattle are driven at the will of their drivers.

This thy country-thy free country-is a treasure which contains within itself indestructible love and faith; the noblest good, (excepting religion; in which dwells a still higher freedom,) which a virtuous man can possess, or can covet.-Arndt.

The Naturalist.

FUNGI.

THE fungi (observes Dr. Glendining) constitute a numerous class of plants, amounting, the different sorts included, to some hundreds. They are very extensively diffused, being met with in every quarter of the globe, rius,) is a common poisonous species in EngThe reddish mushroom (agaricus muscáland, while the mucho more of Kamtschatka, described by Krachenninnïkow, Langsdorff, and other travellers, is but a variety of our indigenous noxious fungus, which is common in every country between the Atlantic that in many forest diatricts of Asiatic Rusand Behring's Straits. Pallas informs us, sia, in which fungi abound, the people feed, during Lent, exclusively, on bread and fungi, and that they eat all kinds, except the aga ricus muscarius, the fetid dunghill mushroom, and some other juiceless sorts; and it is stated by recent travellers, that thereare many different species offered for sale in the Tuscan markets. Although a great many sorts are used as food, there can be no doubt, but that a large portion of the mushrooms may be numbered amongst the most virulent of vegetable poisons. The mucho more (amanita muscaria) of Kamtschatka, seems to differ in some minute points from the European amanita muscaria, having the pileus more convex towards the centre, the stalk thicker, and the gills probably less white and more yellowish. This fungus is found principally in the vicinity of Wischna, Kamtschatka, and Melkowa Derewna: it varies from one and a half to five or six inches in diameter; they are gathered in July and August, and dried in the air. They are used in various ways, but principally dried, in which state they are rolled up singly into a bolus, and swallowed entire without chewing. large fungus, or two small ones, are as much as are taken in one day. Within two hours after the dose, a species of drunkenness commences, accompanied by hilarity, flushed face, delirium, disposition to bodily exertion, and if the dose be very large, spasms; there is often great increase of muscular energy. Some, who are labouring under its effects, are observed to stride or leap over a straw, as if it were a beam; while others are unable to stop themselves, or avoid plunging into any ditch, pit, or river, which may be in their way. A Kamtschatkadale, while labouring under this influence, has been known to carry a bag of flour, weighing a hundred and twenty pounds fifteen wersts, although he could scarcely lift it when sober.

One

W. G. C.

Manners and Customs.

SKETCHES OF PARIS.

A Stroll in the Champs Elysées. We left the reader in our last sketch in the aristocratic gardens of the Tuileries, if indeed we can call anything in France aristocratic: -we will now beg him to take our arm, and, passing out of the western gates, enter the Place de la Concorde. Do not hesitate, fair sir or lady; (" as the case may be," as the catechism says of those mysterious personages M or N;) we trust that the pages of the Mirror have taken the place of a mutual friend of us both, and given us the necessary introduction. Well, then, here we are, on the Place de la Concorde, which we should think is the finest promenade in the world. The pavement is twenty or thirty feet broad, and is laid down in chequered squares of black and white asphalte, and there are eight statues placed round it on stone pedestals. In the centre is the great Theban Obelisque, which was presented to Charles X. by the viceroy of Egypt. This very ancient affair had its unintelligible illustrations engraved on it during the reign of Rhamses III., (Sesostris,) about 1640 years before Christ, so that, as fashions and ideas have altered a little since then, it is no wonder the Parisians think its birds, beasts, and black-beetles thorough "bétise." We will pass the obelisk, and enter the Champs Elysées, on the other side the Place. Have you ever seen Windsor Park? If you have, you must remember the Long Walk, and this will give you a very fair idea of the style of the Champs Elysées, with the exception that the Parisian promenade is not more than a mile in length, with the road continued right across from the trees on one side to those of the other, without the deep border of grass which we have at Windsor. Why they are called fields we do not know, unless it be because there is no grass in them, from the principle of the old adage, "lucus a uon lucendo."

We will seat ourselves, if you please, on the rails at the entrance, and see what is going on around us, for the Champs Elysées is the grand resort of all the street exhibitions of Paris. In front of us is a shabby fourwheeled carriage, with one horse, drawn up under the trees. A middle-aged man is seated in it, busily employed in unfolding various little paper packages from a box which he holds on his knees, and his female companion, a woman about forty, painted up, and gaudily dressed, with a flaunting feather in her bonnet, is standing on the seat of the chaise, playing lustily on the trumpet (being a very feminine instrument,) in order to attract a crowd. When she has finished, and the concern is surrounded by a sufficient

number of gazers, the man rises, and tells the "Messieurs et Dames" around him that he is the first physician in the world; that he has travelled in every known country on the face of the globe, and searched the origin of every disease to its very roots; but in gratitude to the people of Paris, he has returned to give gratuitous advice to all the sick and ailing. This harangue lasts about twenty minutes, being delivered in that grand and pompous style with which nobody but the French invest the most ordinary incidents of life. Whenever he flags for want of brea h, a boy at the horse's head, wearing an old foraging cap, gives the most extraordinary roll upon a cracked drum you ever heard, to fill up time. When he has concluded his oration there is no lack of patients, to whom, as promised, he gives his advice free, which is to the effect that nothing will benefit the case but his own pills and compounds, so that he makes it pay pretty well. This man is well known at Paris-he attends all the fêtes in its vicinity, and is generally to be found every fine afternoon where you now see him.

But there is one peculiar feature in the multitude that people the Champs Elysées, which we cannot overlook-it is the immense number of soldiers that throng its promenades. There they are, always strolling about in two's and three's, with their blue coats and red trousers and little white gaiters. They are all undersized mean-looking men, with an ignorant stolid expression of countenance. As their pay amounts nearly to two sous a-day, (more or less,) they cannot afford to spend much in amusements, so they prefer all that are gratuitous. Towards afternoon the Champs Elysées are perfectly crowded with them; and they take the front places in all the gaping circles of idlers round a fantoccini, and never contribute anything.

A little further on, amidst the trees, you will see a perambulating lecturer on electricity. He has set up his apparatus in the centre of four large trees, and wound some red cord round them to form a kind of barrier. His jars and flasks are displayed upon a tube covered with a fine painted cloth, and the machine, which has been a very large one, but the plate is cracked in various places, is guarded from rain by an enormous umbrella of red cotton. He is at present astonishing his audience by discharg ing bottles of gas, and blowing their corks into the air, by means of the spark; and he furthermore electrifies invalids for four sous each, to the great admiration of the surrounding populace, who look upon him as a species of magician.

We will now walk on a little towards the splendid and unequalled Arc de Triomphe de l'Etoile,* which forms a grand termination to the Champs Elysées. Passing a great See Mirror, No. 804. p. 305.

many conjurors, cake-stalls, and perambulating lemonade carts, we pass by several little cafés. Here are again crowds of loungers, sitting at the little round tables under the trees, drinking coffee, beer, and eau sacrée, and listening to a band of nine or ten male and female performers, both vocal and instrumental, who play here on raised platforms every afternoon. In front of us several grown-up babies are gravely, circling in the roundabouts at the jeu de bague, a remnant of the old sport of tilting at the ring; and others are taking a flight in four ships which go up and down as they revolve. The French are indignant at being called a trifling nation-what do you think of this? Beyond this spot is the elegant Cirque Olympique-the summer theatre of the Franconis', for the display of their unrivalled equestrian performances. It is a species of vast circular tent, capable of accommodating from four to five thousand persons, perhaps more, with an arena in the centre about the size of the one at Astley's, and a splendid orchestra of fifty musicians erected over the passage by which the horses enter the ring. Let us turn in and see it-we shall be sure of good amusement for our franc. We will pay the old lady who takes the money in that little box. "Deux pour l'amphitheatre, Madame, s'il vous plait." Now, take your billet, and follow me up stairs. We see just as well here instead of paying double to go below for the privilege of being covered with sawdust every time the horses pass.

The arena is rapidly filling, and they are lowering the handsome chandeliers to light them, while the grooms, dressed in our own fashion, are raking the circus level, but not so quickly as our old friend in the red jacket and top-boots at Astley's :-his "rake's progress" is literally like a rail-road. At half past seven the orchestra begins to perform several popular pieces of music in first-rate style. This continues until eight, when Victor Franconi enters with a whip and two servants, and directly afterwards a gentleman in flesh coloured tights, and a white ribbond round his head, who jumps through hoops and over his steed's bridle, by way of commencement we suppose, for his feats are not generally very difficult.

Next come the performances of Le petit Fortuné, a young Greek, who rides and jumps over flags backwards. When he has finished, an odd noise is heard without, and Auriol, the favourite clown of the circus, comes rolling in, first head over heels, and then jumping and throwing somersets backwards and forwards in a most extraordinary manner. We have nothing like him as a posture-master in England-he comes very close to the Bedouin Arabs, if he does not equal them. The beautiful Madame Lejars, one of the fairest comets of Franconi's

sphere, succeeds him, mounted on a spirited horse, without either suddle or bridle. Her boldness and self-command is astonishing, and her sweet face and finely-turned limbs attract the admiration of everybody. She is at present not much more than nineteen, and she has learnt a little English, and says, "come up!" to the horse, instead of the more general" allume! hue! hue!" of the other ecuyers. The next scene is a pas de deux on horseback, by the pretty Virginie Kenebel, (or rather Madame V. Franconi, for she is married,) and M. Auguste, a fine young man, and capital rider. The subject is Bacchus and Erigone, and the attitudes are graceful and classical in the extreme. Then comes Les deux Chinois, one of the most dare-devil neck-ornothing performances you ever saw, performed on one stout horse by the two broround the horse's neck and under his belly, thers Lalanne. They quarrel, fight, creep suffer themselves to be pulled along, holding to his tail, and all the time the animal is going at the swiftest speed. After this we tiful horse Mammoth, in a scene of haute have Mademoiselle Caroline, on her beauequitation; and next, two English clowns, Messrs. Lawrence and Redisha, as they are called in the programme of the Vert-vert, unnatural here, for beyond what few English They are clever tumblers, but they look there may chance to be in the house, there is no one to appreciate their " Here how are you?" on entering the circle; and, Franconi, like our old friends Widdicomb, they cannot cut their jokes upon Victor Fellingham, and West, at our own Amphitheatre. The evening's performance concludes by a "grand relai sur six chevaux," by Paul Cuzent, dressed as a French postillion, and which is an excellent imitation of Ducrow's Courier of St. Petersburgh. The entertainments conclude always by half-past ten, and in half an hour afterwards the Champs Elysées are as quiet as the grave.

we are,

At the fête in celebration of the "three days," a magnificent illumination extends in festoons from tree to tree, the whole length of the avenue. Large theatres are built for gratuitous military pantomimes; and shows, stalls, ball-rooms, and exhibitions of every sort and kind fill its walks. A splendid display of fireworks also takes place from the Pont de la Concorde; and all these. expenses are defrayed by government. Frivolous and childish, indeed, is the whole setout, and many hundreds of francs are blown away in rockets and maroons to amuse a gaping crowd of infants of forty years old, while the costly Louvre is encircled by a paling of dirty planks that would disgrace a railroad excavation in England, and the tarnished dome of the Hotel des Invalids looks like a child's toy, with the Dutch metal half sucked off.

KNIPS.