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ONE OF THE BRIDGES ACROSS THE SEINE,—SHOWING THE PLACE DE LA CONCORDE AND THE TUILERIES IN THE DISTANCE.

On the other side of the great square extends a broad and magnificent street, a mile and a third in length, called the Avenue des Champs Elysées. On each side, for nearly half a mile, this street is bordered by pleasure-grounds, beautifully laid out and planted with trees; and for the rest of the way it runs between two double rows of trees to the great Arch of Triumph, built by Napoleon Bonaparte to commemorate his victories. This arch is like those erected by the Roman emperors, and is covered with inscriptions and sculptures recording the glorious achievements of the great Napoleon. When Paris was taken by the Prussians in the war of 1871, the German army marched into the city through this arch of triumph; and if they wished to humiliate the French people, they could not have thought of a better plan. But the French people whom we now see here on fine afternoons do not look at all humiliated. They walk about under the trees; they sit upon the thousands of prettily painted iron chairs which are hired out at two cents apiece for a whole day; they drive up and down in the finest carriages that money can buy; and, so far as we can discover by looking at them, they are as well content and have as good an opinion of themselves as any people in the world. The pavement of the street and that of the great square is as smooth as a floor, and kept very neat and clean. This is the case indeed in nearly all the principal streets of Paris, and it is a pleasure to drive over their smooth and even pavements. But after a rain it is not so agreeable to walk across these streets, which are then covered with a coating of very sticky white mud.

On the northern side of the square is a handsome street of moderate length, called the Rue Royale. It is filled with fine shops, and is very animated and lively. At its upper end stands the beautiful church of the Madeleine, fashioned like a Grecian temple. We go up this street, and when we reach the broad space about the Madeleine, part of which is occupied as a flower-market, with long lines of booths crowded with many varieties of blossoms and plants, we find ourselves at the beginning of the magnificent line of streets, which are called the boulevards of Paris. The word boulevards means ramparts or bulwarks, and this long line of streets is built where the old ramparts of Paris used to stand. Of late, however, the word has been applied to many of the other broad and splendid streets for which Paris is famous. This crowded, lively, and interesting thoroughfare is over two miles long, and is, in fact, but one great street, although it is divided into eleven sections, called the Boulevard de la Madeleine, Boulevard des Capucines, Boulevard des Italiens, etc. These boulevards do not extend in a straight line, but make a great sweep to the north, and come down again to within a short distance of the river.

THE AVENUE DES CHAMPS ELYSÉES. (SEE PAGE 573.)

On each side of this wide line of streets are splendid shops and stores, cafés, restaurants, and handsome hotels; and before we have gone very far we shall see, standing back in an open space, the Grand Opera House of Paris. It is a magnificent building both inside and out; it is the largest theater in the world, and covers three acres of ground.

But although the fine buildings and the dazzling show-windows full of beautiful objects will continually attract our attention, they can not keep our eyes from the wonderful life and activity of the streets. The broad sidewalks, of course, are crowded with people, though no more than we often meet on Broadway, in New York, but the throng is peculiar because it is made up of such a variety of people who seem to be doing so many different things: ladies and gentlemen dressed in the latest fashions; working men in blue blouses; working women, always without any head-covering; boys and men with wooden shoes; gentlemen, and often ladies, sitting at little tables placed on the sidewalk in front of cafés, drinking coffee, or taking some other refreshment; soldier-policemen marching up and down, and looking very inoffensive; now and then a priest in long black clothes, and a broad felt hat. But yet among this multitude of people we seldom meet any one who is dashing along as if he were trying to catch a train or a boat, or to do something else for which he is afraid there is not time enough. Here and there we see, standing close to the curbstone, a little round wooden house, prettily ornamented, inside of which a woman sits selling newspapers which are displayed at the open window. These houses are called kiosks, and they take the place of the newspaper stands in our country. As far as possible, the French like to make their useful things ornamental, and these kiosks add very much to the appearance of the streets.

Occasionally we come to the opening of a covered arcade, extending a long distance back from the street, and crowded on both sides with shops, the pavement in the center being occupied only by foot-passengers. These arcades are called passages, and are among the most interesting features of Paris. The shops here are generally small, but they display their goods in a very enticing way. Some of the passages contain cafés and restaurants, and one of them is almost entirely devoted to the sale of toys and presents for children.

In another passage we shall find a very wonderful wax-work show, which, although it is not so large as the famous exhibition of Madame Tussaud in London, is, in many respects, much more interesting. There are figures here of all kinds, many of celebrated people, but instead of being set up stiffly around a room, they are arranged in groups in separate compartments, and in natural positions, as if they were saying or doing something. In the center of the room is a studio, in which the artist, who looks as natural as life, is painting a picture of a girl standing at a little distance from him, while behind him another girl is peeping over his shoulder to see how he is getting on, and she looks so life-like that we can almost expect to hear her say what she thinks about it. Near by, some ladies and gentlemen are looking over portfolios of drawings, other visitors are talking together and examining the pictures on the walls, while a servant is bringing in wax refreshments which look quite good enough to eat and drink. This scene will give us an excellent idea of life in the studio of a French artist. There are all kinds of scenes represented here, and some, especially in the basement, are of a gloomy and somber kind. One of these represents a body of policemen bursting into a room occupied by a band of counterfeiters engaged in making false money. The dismay of the counterfeiters, disturbed in their work, and the desperate fight that has already begun, are very startling and real, and we almost feel that we ought to move out of the way.

The roadway of the boulevards is filled with vehicles of every kind, and among these we particularly notice the great omnibuses, much larger than any we have, and each drawn by three powerful horses, generally white. These omnibuses have seats on top as well as inside, and a very good way to see the city is to take a ride upon one of those upper seats. The omnibuses are almost always well filled, but never crowded, no one being taken on after every seat is occupied, and a fixed