A GLIMPSE OF FRANCE. 



199 



from numerous centres like the boulevards of Paris. 

 At these centres were fountains and statues, with sun- 

 light falling upon them ; and, looking along the cool, 

 dusky avenues, as they opened, this way and that, upon 

 these marble tableaux, the effect was very striking, 

 and was not at all marred to my eye by the neglect 

 into which the place had evidently fallen. The woods 

 were just mellowing into October; the large, shining 

 horse-chestnuts dropped at my feet as I walked along ; 

 the jay screamed over the trees ; and occasionally a 

 red squirrel — larger and softer-looking than ours, not 

 so sleek, nor so noisy and vivacious — skipped among 

 the branches. Soldiers passed, here and there, to and 

 from some encampment on the farther side of the 

 park ; and, hidden from view somewhere in the forest- 

 glades, a band of buglers filled the woods with wild, 

 musical strains. 



English royal parks and pleasure grounds are quite 

 different. There the prevailing character is pastoral — 

 immense stretches of lawn, dotted with the royal oak, 

 and alive with deer. But the Frenchman loves forests, 

 evidently, and nearly all his pleasure grounds about 

 Paris are immense woods. The Bois de Boulogne, the 

 forests of Vincennes, of St. Germain, of Bondy, and I 

 don't know how many others, are near at hand, and 

 are much prized. What the animus of this love may 

 be is not so clear. It cannot be a love of solitude, for 

 the French are characteristically a social and gregari- 

 ous people. It cannot be the English poetical or 



