We Took An Omnibus To London Bridge; From Thence We Proceeded By Railway, And In A Few Minutes Were In Greenwich.

We entered the magnificent old Park, and wandered about for a long time, to our hearts' content, among the venerable old trees, admiring the graceful deer that were enjoying themselves all around us.

At last we came to the top of a charming hill, where we sat down to rest and look at the river. Several of the sailors had arranged spy glasses of various sizes for the accommodation of visitors, and for the good to themselves of a few pence. We patronized one of these, and then descended to the Hospital, which is the main object of interest. It was just time for the old sailors' dinner, and we went into one of their dining rooms, where there were about three hundred seated at an excellent meal, plain, but wholesome and plentiful. A very pleasant sight it was; they were chatting, telling good old stories, and laughing merrily, and evidently enjoying themselves highly. There were, at that time, more than seven hundred of these veterans in the building. Those who chose carried their dinners to their rooms.

The place for the sailors' sleeping rooms was a long hall, with small rooms on one side and large windows on the other. The rooms were just large enough for a bed, a bureau, a little table, and, I think, two chairs. There were shelves around the room, except on the side that looked into the Hall, where was the door and a window. On these shelves were ranged little keepsakes, books and various articles of taste, often beautiful shells; there were hanging up around the rooms profiles of friends, perhaps the dearest that this life can give us. I could not help thinking that many a touching story might be told by those silent but eloquent memorials. We were much amused with looking at a card put in one of the windows of these little comfortable state rooms, on which was written these words: "Anti-poke-your-nose-into-other-folks'-business Society. 5000 Pounds reward annually to any one who will really mind his own business; with the prospect of an increase of 100 Pounds, if he shall abstain from poking his nose into other folks' business." We returned to London in a steamer.

Now you must suppose you are walking with me in Paris, on a bright Sunday morning in spring. We will go first to the Place Vendome. It is an oblong square with the corners cut off. The buildings are all of the same beautiful cream-colored stone, and of the same style of architecture, - a basement story, very pretty and simple, and upper stories ornamented with Corinthian pilasters and gilded balconies. There are high, pointed roofs with pretty luthern windows. The Place is four hundred and twenty feet by four hundred and fifty. Two large handsome streets, opposite to each other, the Rue de la Paix, and the Rue Castiglione, open out of the Place; these alone break the range of handsome buildings that surround this beautiful spot. In the centre is the magnificent column, made in imitation of the column of Trajan, and surmounted by a bronze statue of Napoleon in his military dress. At first he was placed there in his imperial robes; but when he fell, so did his statue, and it was melted up to help make an equestrian statue of Henry IV. In 1833, the present statue was erected; and the people are very proud of the Little Corporal, as they call him, as he stands up there, looking over their glorious city, as if born to lead men to conquest, and to govern the world. Inside the column is a spiral staircase by which you ascend to the top of the column. You are well paid for the fatigue of mounting these one hundred and seventy-six steps, when you get your breath and look down upon Paris glittering in the sunlight. What pleases me most, however, is the scene immediately below. All the people are in the streets. Sunday in Paris is a holiday. Whole families leave work, care, - all their troubles, - and come into the public places to enjoy themselves. There is no swearing, no drunkenness, no rudeness, no noise; the old folks seats themselves in chairs, and the children run about. Some have been to mass, and some have not, but all are in the spirit of enjoyment. Nothing can be more enlivening than the aspect of the French people. You cannot resist their cheerful looks. The appearance of the Place Vendome is truly enchanting.

Now let us go down, and take a nearer look at what is going on below. At the foot of the column you will see a group of children collected round a man with a large basket of little tin carriages which are constructed in such a way that they will go with the wind on a smooth place. For some distance round the column is laid the asphaltum pavement. These little tin carriages run well across this wide platform; and you might imagine that the tin horses carried them. It is a pleasant thing to see the delight of the children, and a lesson in good nature and good manners, to see how carefully all the passers by turn aside, so as not to interrupt the progress of these pretty toys.

Look up at the beautiful bas reliefs in bronze, on this noble column, giving the history of so many fierce battles and so much bloodshed, and at the military hero on the top, and then at these laughing, merry children at the foot, running after the tin carriages that go with the wind. Is it not a strange and moving contrast? Does it not tell a story that all of us hope may be one day true; when war shall belong only to history, and when peace shall possess the earth?

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