The vignette, so beautifully engraved pective, the Capitol, and the hills of for the South Western Monthly, was Harpeth, serves as will, or better than executed by Mr. H. C. Grosvenor, of any thing else could do as a symbol of Cincinnati, from a design of our own; the South-West; and the skull, invertand is intended to represent, allegori- ed, very well answers as the suppor cally, the early settlement and mature ters of the flag bearing the name of our greatness of the State. A brief des- magazine. The position of the two ficription of it, in detail, therefore, may gures, holding it up, indicates that the not be considered inappropriate. enterprize is identified with the legends and facts connected with the conflicts between the white man and the red man. The eagle, bearing the scroll, is of course, emblematical of our common country.

The indian standing on the stalk of corn, and the bow and quiver-primitive weapons-is intended to represent that point at which the country had arrived, when the white man first became acquainted with it-whilst the pioneer, armed with a rifle, and standing on the cotton stalk, is designed to represent the next step in its history. The last period, is fitly portrayed in the Capitol, completed; it indicating, better perhaps than any other emblem would do, the acme of successful progress in the arts of civilization consequent upon prosperity and wealth,-fine architecture ever having been considered, in all ages of the world, largely a test of such progress.

Looking, therefore, to the requirements of good taste, in getting up a work designed to illustrate as largely as possible the history of the South West,-we cannot doubt but that the design will meet the approbation of all; and it remains with the public spirited citizens of this section to aid us in the successful prosecution of the enter prize, if they would make it a real benefit to their own science and literature.

And at all times. in prosecuting the enterprize, we shall bear in mind not merely what is demanded by good taste, but also what is required by the

The rocky cliff, beneath the feet of the indian and pioneer, is emblematical of Nashville-the "City of Rocks," wants of the South-West, doing all as it is sometimes termed. that is possible to develope its latent

The elks-horns, forming so pretty an energies and its acknowledged talarch through which to view, in persent.

THE

BOULEVARDS.

A RAMBLE IN PARIS.
SEE ENGRAVING.

The first glance the stranger in Paris really gets of the "Parisian World," is upon a saunter along the "Northern Boulevards," anciently the line of fortifications of Paris until converted into a magnificent street under the orders of Louis XIV. Commencing at the site of the Bastile, now the place of the column of July, it sweeps around a distance of nearly three miles, coming out near the Place de la Concorde, at the lower end of the Garden of the Tuilleries, the whole presenting on a pleasant evening, a scene unexampled for its gaiety, its splendid equipages, and its palace-like resorts for the thousands of pleasure-seekers in the most brilliant metropolis of Europe.

splendid triumphal arches of St. Dennis and St. Martin, records of Louis le Grande; and which, although erected respectively in 1672 and 1674, are still untouched apparently by the hand of time, and we think as we look upon them of the unnumbered millions who have in turn tramped past them on their way to oblivion and death. Heavens! what thoughts crowd upon thoughts as we ramble hither and thither, through the scenes of so many revels, barricades, battles, pageants, revolutions!

A day upon the Boulevards,-the first day in Paris,-is well spent. The visitor begins to get accustomed to the glare, the noise, the myriad novelties which comprise the every day existence. in the metropolis of France, until fi nally the kaleidoscope ceases to dazzle, the charm to act; and he is prepared to We wander up and down the broad sit down quietly at his hotel, on the pavé confounded and dazzled at the approach of night, to form in his own living streams which almost ceaslessly mind some plan for becoming acquaintebb to and fro-we encounter glittered in detail with the great world to ing uniforms, and silks and satins and which he has been partially introduced. laces, alternating with beggary and And now follows a feeling of perplexirags, we meet the "old moustache," ty as to what object of curiosity shall who followed the Little Corporal be first attacked in a city so renowned through the sands of Egypt, tottering for its antiquities, its historical associ by the side of the beardless youngster ations-its display of the fine arts-its who but lately made his first essay at wealth of marvels. arms among the levies for Algiers, Perhaps, in an uncertainty like this, whilst a continuous roll of carriages the best method is to begin with the sounds a running accompaniment to principal objects, leaving minor ones the babble in all the languages of the to fill up the details of the picture. We have seen the Boulevards, the liv ing, pleasure-seeking Paris, pacing along the broad avenues in scenic splendor-we quit this all for a plunge into its historical wonders, for visits to places which in one way or another have been familiar for ages to the scholars of every clime.

old world.

Every where, too, in the most fashionable portions of this grand avenue are grouped, comfortably seated, scores of persons; some reading the newspapers, others sipping lemonade, eau de sucre, coffee, or something stronger, all apparently enjoying the pleasant evening, and the moving panorama presented in endless changes. That stout old officer rolling past, and so much the observed of all, even here, and with but one arm,is Baraguay D'Hilliers, one of the best of the old fighters who stood by Napoleon, whilst the slim, dandy looking militaire, a very "carpet knight," to look at, is Gen. Changarnier, so celebrated for his battles with the tribes of the desert.

We pass onward and come to the

From the Boulevard Montmartre along the street of the same name we take our way, coming out upon the Rue St. Honoré, one of the most ancient in Paris, and the scene of many interesting events in its history. We are on our way to the Louvre. Turning to the left when we should have turned to the right to reach it, we lose nothing by the mistake, for we suddenly find ourselves in front of an ancient building, common enough in appearance, and

The

reeling beneath the weight of years. of innocent blood cry from its ancient The front displays an old bronze bust, towers, and how we retreat from them' and the basement is occupied by a green shuddering, as we think of the terrible grocer. A marked spot in the history scenes which have been witnessed beof the world is this, like the battle neath their very shadow. ground upon which is decided the fate But look in another direction! of kingdoms, for the great Henry of magnificent front of the Louvre now Navarre had his blood spilled at this meets the view, its superb collonades very place by the assassin Ravaillac, sweeping away towards the busy and and the same old building yet looks thronged quays which border the Seine, down upon the guilty locality, the its length almost that of a town of itstones never having "cried out of the wall," at the damning deed.

self. How perfect is the grand whole -how in keeping is one portion with another, the fine pediment and its rich bas-reliefs with the noble line of Corinthian columns-the ample windows, with the long galleries!

Absorbed in the contemplation of so rich a spectacle, one almost forgets its renowned treasures of Art, the principal objects for which most visitors hither seek its walls, we almost forget the thousand incidents of banquet, and seige, and battle, with which its name is associated in the annals of France.

Moving onward again, this time to the right, we keep along the Rue St. Honoré until, from our scanty know. ledge of the geography of Paris, we think we have gone far enough, and we turn to the left to reach the Louvre. We are in the Rue de l' Arbre Sec, and before another old building, so full of blood guiltiness, that one marvels that in this christian age it ventures to raise its front in the face of the bright Heavens! Why, do you ask! Why, in it, the great Coligny was brutally murder- Before we enter its precincts, how. ed, and from that very window his body ever, suppose we walk around a buildwas thrown to the pavement, his gray ing so remarkable, not merely for its hairs dabbled with blood, streaming up architecture, but for the historical inon the winds. Every step in this quar- terest attached to it! We are now at ter is fraught with associations which the Eastern front, the portion begun. nearly curdle one's blood to think of in the reign of and by order of Louis them, and now a few steps further, and XIV, and finished during the rule of here is an ancient church. Let us en- Napoleon. Walking along the front, ter it, for it is a good idea never to pass we suddenly come to the bank of the by a church in one of these old cities, Seine, with its grand perspective of ellest you walk by the ashes of those who egant or antique bridges, and looking have left their impress upon the age in -now up, and now down the riverwhich they lived or lest you slight we find we are in the very centre of the some sanctuary, identified with events metropolis. The pictured representamemorable forevermore. This is the tions so often given are here real, and church of St. Germain L' Auxerrois. there is no mistaking them. We see No illustrious dead sleep here however, the two heavy towers of Notre Dame, but it is one of the most ancient in Paris, and we know them at once; and yonder, having been built in the year 998, and an further up, is the Hotel de Ville; and awful celebrity attaches to its name, here the Palace of the Institute. We second to no other building in the city. look in the other direction, and we be From its towers the fatal signal was hold the long line of the Garden of first tolled for the massacre of St. Bar- the Tuilleries, yonder is the Chamber of tholomew! Yet no earthquake has Deputies, the dome of the Invalides— swallowed it therefor, and tumult, and beneath which rest the ashes of Naporevolution, and sack, and storm have leon,—and more distant still, and to the done their worst upon it, at times, yet right, we discern the great Arch of Trithere it is still, strong, massive, gray umph! The Seine, too, rushes along, with years, a place to-day for the wor- turbulent and dingy after washing so ship of the Most High! What rivers much of Paris, and many a tale of want,

and suicide, and murder, rises to the re- particularize, is a vain endeavor,—so, collection as we look upon its dark with an occasional rest on the elegant bosom. Proceeding along the South-divans, placed at regular intervals for ern point of the Louvre, we stop occa- the convenience of visitors, we saun. sionally to scan its ancient face, to pic-ter along the immense hall, passing ture the infamous Charles IX firing constantly, groups of artists, mostly upon his hapless subjects from its win-young men and girls, making copies of dows at the massacre of St. Bartholo-the various works. Sainted legends, mew, and at a later period, the unfor tunate Swiss Guards blocking its gateways with their corpses in defence of their royal master.

stories from the Greek and Roman mythology, shipwrecks, pictures of cities, portraits of heroes, statesmen, poets, philosophers, painters,-every thing in short that can interest the reflecting mind is here grouped, until, apart from their interest, merely as specimens of Art, the visitor has brought to his notice a treasury of knowledge, beyond value, in all that conduces to the wealth of mind-to advancement in the realm of thought. The faces of men concerning whom we have speculated from childhood as we have hung over their immortal works, here look upon us from the canvass until we almost speak our gratitude to them; and counten. ances so angelic as to look like the creations of other worlds, beam upon us at every step.

We enter through an ancient gateway, and find ourselves in the vast court, a portion of the immense space between it and the Place du Carrousel, the rear of the Tuilleries, being occupied with mean hovels, other portions by the rubbish accumulated from the old buildings now in process of removal, in or der to make the entire area between the Tuilleries and the Louvre, one court. Only the left side-looking towards the Place du Carrousel is connected with the Tuilleries, at present; but when the other wing is completed, it will be unparralled almost for its grandeur, as a whole. The hovels mentioned, are occupied by dealers in old paintings, en- And the Louvre is not rich in paint. gravings, and curiosities of all sorts,-ings, alone! In sculpture, jewels, cups, furbishers of ancient armor, a medley of vases, armor, &c., it delights the visit every thing nearly; and the range of or. We see here the casque and shield, huts forms a singular contrast to the in enamel and gold, of the chivalric magnificent pile so close at hand.

Francis I., the armor worn by Henry Turning to the right now, by what II. in the fatal tilting match with the seems a private entrance, our passport Count Montgomery, as also the jewel opens the way through a gate, and we case of Mary de Medicis. Of antique find ourselves in the superb gallery, up- sculpture, particularly, we are gratified wards of thirteen hundred feet long, amidst a wilderness of statuary, with a lighted from above, and perfectly stud- sight of the celebrated Fighting Gladia ded with gems of Art gathered from tor, a work perfectly unapproachable every nation and school of the old in the vigor of its attitude and the beau world. What creations of genius-ty of its execution, and copied perhaps what triumphs of mind abound on all oftener in works treating of the beauty sides, works which have given those who executed them an immortality of fame-works, which in multiplied copies, will astonish and delight the world to the end of time. Raphaels, Correggios, Claudes, Rembrandts, &c., &c., are scattered over the walls with a prodi- Besides the great gallery, thirteen gality such, almost, as to make the gazer hundred feet long, there are several conclude for the moment, that half his other large halls devoted to the exhibi race are painters-enough to make the tion of paintings, the choicest works of beginner in the art who is here for the the French artists, especially, being first time, turn pale with despair. To gathered in them. Passing through

of design, than any production of the chisel, extant. To wander through the immense halls devoted to antique sculpture alone, it would appear as if the whole ancient world had been laid under contribution to furnish them.

these in succession, we emerge at last upon the collonade of the Eastern front, and going North into that wing of the edifice, we come to the Museum of the Marine, a most curious and interesting collection of models of ships, and other things relating to, and illustating the progress of the naval power of France. Those relative to the advance of the steam marine are especially beautiful, as well as ingenious. The few things gathered from the spot where the unfortunate La Perouse perished are here exhibited.

did edifice, indeed, and fitted for the abode of monarchy-for the halls of audience for kings-for guards, and all the pomp which waits on royalty. But who would inhabit it upon the hard terms which Fate prescribed to its former masters! Henry IV., slain by the dagger of the assassin, Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette beheaded within sight of its very windows, Napoleon escaping the perils of battle and "infernal machines" to die a prisoner at St. Helena, Louis XVIII. repeatedly a fugitive, and Charles X., and Louis Phillippe, respectively, chased away, to die in exile.

Returning along the collonade, mentioned, we stop to gaze upon the marks Visiting the interior of the palace, of the bullets upon wall and pillar, the first plain evidence we have traces of the hot conflicts which have that the "sans culottes," the "blouses," from time to time taken place, as the have been there in force, is the sight, people have stormed the edifice. Go-occasionally, of the mark from a baying out through the "Grand Entrance," onet thrust or bullet upon a piece of we find ourselves in the open court of statuary or picture frame; in some other the palace, and we take our way to-places, pieces are chipped out of pillar wards the Place du Carrousel, before and cornice, by balls from the fusees of mentioned, in the rear of and forming the open court of the Tuilleries, the place where Napoleon used to hold his military reviews, the spot where he reviewed the Grande Armeé most of whom perished in the snows of Russia. An elegant iron railing, the tops formed of gilt spear-heads, encloses it, placed there by his order; and in the centre, and just outside of it, is the beautiful triumphal arch, also erected by him, and once surmounted by the celebrated bronze horses of St. Mark, removed by command of the Allies, at their occupation of Paris. They are replaced by four others, by a modern artist.

We have a fine view of this front of the palace if it can be called a front, -but although considered a magnificent affair, the different styles of architecture which enter into it, greatly mar the tout ensemble, it bearing no comparison in harmonious beauty to the Eastern front of the Louvre, its great opposite.

outsiders. The exterior, too, bears abundant evidence of the rough visitors it has had from time to time! Surely, surely, those who held empire here must have felt to the full-the force of that aphorism-"uneasy lies the head that wears a crown!" And if one could but summon the solitude for the gay crowds, the gifted, the hopeful, the beautiful who have banquetted here, and who have since found their way to the land of silence and forgetfulness,if we could but call back those who once fled in terror through these now still corridors, hoarse murder ringing its tocsin in their ears-what a gathering-what a reunion! The very silence the desertion of these magnificent halls, speaks

an emphasis never equalled by the eloquence of Bossuet and Bourdaloue, when they would have brought home to the senses of the infatuated monarchs who have reigned here, the fleeting nature cl earthly grandeur.

But what stories of the past crowd We are now in the very apartments upon the mind as we look upon it! once occupied;-inhabited by royalty. How often have we seen as the caption We passed through rooms occupied by of chapters in histories and in public Louis, by Marie Antoinette, by Napole journals that startling announcement, on, by Louis Phillippe! In this, the Emominous of blood and revolution-peror planned many of his vast con"Storming of the Tuilleries!" A splen-quests--it was we are told-hia