It was a beautiful country through which we passed from Boulogne to
Amiens. Straggling cottages which bespeak neatness and comfort abound on
every side. The eye wanders over the diversified views with unabated
pleasure, and rests in calm repose upon its superlative beauty. Indeed,
the eye cannot but be gratified at viewing the entire country from the
coast to the metropolis. Sparkling hamlets spring up as the steam horse
speeds his way, at almost every point--showing the progress of
civilization, and the refinement of the nineteenth century.

We arrived at Paris a few minutes past twelve o'clock at night, when,
according to our tickets, we should have been there at nine. Elihu
Burritt, who had been in Paris some days, and who had the arrangements
there pretty much his own way, was at the station waiting the arrival of
the train, and we had demonstrated to us, the best evidence that he
understood his business. In no other place on the whole route had the
affairs been so well managed; for we were seated in our respective
carriages and our luggage placed on the top, and away we went to our
hotels without the least difficulty or inconvenience. The champion of an
"Ocean Penny Postage" received, as he deserved, thanks from the whole
company for his admirable management.

The silence of the night was only disturbed by the rolling of the wheels
of the omnibus, as we passed through the dimly lighted streets. Where, a
few months before was to be seen the flash from the cannon and the
musket, and the hearing of the cries and groans behind the barricades,
was now the stillness of death--nothing save here and there a _gens
d'arme_ was to be seen going his rounds in silence.

The omnibus set us down at the hotel Bedford, Rue de L'Arend, where,
although near one o'clock, we found a good supper waiting for us; and,