THE CHAMPS ELYSEES. 



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The Avenue des Champs Elysees leads from it straight 

 to the Arc ; and what it is and how it is laid out we have 

 next to see. First there is the road, well macadamized, 

 slightly convex, so level and easy for horses that those of 

 London could never again find courage to grind down 

 angular lumps of broken rock if they passed a few weeks 

 in rolling over it, and nearly 100 feet wide. There is a line 

 of horse-chestnuts and other trees immediately within the 

 footway that borders this on each side, and then more 

 than fifty feet clear— for the greater part a gravelled 

 walk, but with a well-laid footway of asphalte about 

 seven feet wide in the centre, which is most agreeable 

 to walk upon at all times, and particularly in wet 

 weather. Then come four rows of elm and chestnut 

 trees, under them about fifty feet more of gravel walks— 

 the other side of the central avenue being laid out in a 

 similar manner. 



Then commences the garden, which is truly worthy of its 

 position. Walking up the avenue on the left side we are 

 in a wide and noble pleasure-ground, of which the farther- 

 most parts that can be seen are backed by belts of shrubs 

 and specimen trees. But what are these little structures one 

 sees quite in front? Well, simply neat little sheds for 

 gingerbread, cigars, and such commodities. To the British 

 eye this kind of thing does not seem in what is called 

 "keeping/' but if people will have their cigars and ginger- 

 bread they may as well be sold to them where they are 

 strolling or playing. Besides, you have in this case got 

 the gingerbread-keepers under control, and they look as 

 thoroughly subdued and dutiful as the sergent de ville, 

 who is a model of gravity and dutifulness. Talk about the 

 gaiety of the French ! Why, you never see one of these 

 men smile, and yet they look thoroughly French. I once 

 saw a London policeman, in sheer overflow of spirits, and 

 probably slightly influenced by beer, throw his hat across 

 the street after a cat, on a bright moonlight night, and 

 then laugh at the fun of it ; but who ever saw so much 

 hilarity or want of dignity as that in a Parisian policeman ? 

 They, however, are a thoroughly efficient set of men— 



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