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<h2>Letter 29.</h2> Paris. Dear Charley:— This morning, as we were taking a very comfortable breakfast at the coffee-room of our hotel, and as I was reading Galignani's daily paper, I found a person at the next table addressing me, in nasal twang, "Stranger, is this fellow Galignani a reliable chap?" I assured him that he passed for an authority. Laying down his paper on the table, he pathetically described the tramp which the programme for the sight-seeing of yesterday's paper had given him, and declared his inability to keep up with the instructions for that day. Finding that he was a character, I carried on the conversation; and he talked most edifyingly to all in the room, as he spoke loud enough to be heard at the very end. I inquired if he had been to London. His reply was, "I reckon I have; why, I come on purpose to see the Crystial Palace." "Well, sir," I said, "and how did you like it?" "O, that exhibition is some!" "And pray, sir, what did you think of the Greek Slave?" "There, now, stranger, I takes it that where she were raised cotton was dreadful scarce." This, was too much and too good; and I think it is by far the best thing I have heard about the exhibition. How the boys managed to keep quiet, I know not; but they did as well as could be expected. The room was thoroughly awake, and I resigned our countryman to other hands. After breakfast, we rode to the Cemetery of Père la Chaise. This spot has for centuries been celebrated for its beauty; and, for a period of more than one hundred years, the Jesuits had a country residence here. They had it early in the sixteenth century, or, perhaps, at the close of the fifteenth. Louis XIV. made his confessor, Père la Chaise, the superior of the society; and in 1705 it was the head-quarters of Jesuitism in France. The present cemetery was consecrated in 1804; and the entire grounds are walled in, and they are very nearly two hundred acres. You know how much I admire Greenwood and Mount Auburn. Well, I still prefer them to this Golgotha. The walks are some of them fine, but the tombs are too thick. There is no regularity. It looks as though there had been a rain storm of tombs and monuments, and they lie as they fell. This is the very metropolis of death. Some of the monuments are elegant indeed, but often their beauties are hidden. The most attractive spot to us was the resting-place of "the bravest of the brave." Ney yet has no monument. The tombs of Casimir Perrier, the Countess Demidoff, Abelard and Héloise, General Macdonald, Lavalette, Gobert, Foy, Molière, Laplace, and Junot are some that pleased us most, and are exquisite specimens of art. Many of these tombs have small rooms, with altars and glass doors. Opposite the altar is a chair, and we saw several mourners in devout attitude at the shrine of affection. I have heard from a Parisian of great intelligence, and who has been connected with the city government, that very nearly, if not quite, thirty millions of dollars have been spent upon this cemetery. Of course, the expense of sculpture here has been enormous, as the best talent of Europe has contributed to adorn the spot, and perpetuate the memory of the departed. On leaving this charnel-house of mortality, we drove to the Abattoir de Popincourt, which is the largest in the city, and occupies six hundred and forty-five feet by fire hundred and seventy. On entering, we found four slaughter-houses, each standing alone. Here, too, are sheds for four thousand sheep, and stables for four hundred oxen. There are also four melting-houses. We also noticed a large building called the Triperie, for preparing tripe and the feet of animals. The week we were there the statistics of slaughter were as follows: Eight hundred and seventy-two oxen, three hundred and fifty-six cows, seven hundred calves, and two thousand eight hundred and seventy-five sheep. Nothing of the sort can be kept cleaner than this establishment. The water ran down every channel, and very little blood could be seen, or effluvia noticed. When will New York have its abattoirs? No city in the world needs such an auxiliary to health and comfort more than she does. Perhaps the good people will call for one after a few more visitations of cholera. There are four other similar establishments in Paris. We had a nice ride home round the boulevards, and, stopping at the consul's office, found a famous budget of letters and papers, and with great pleasure we addressed ourselves to their contents. I am amused to see how various are the demands made upon the time and services of a consul. He needs to have the patience of Job; and if he answers satisfactorily and authoritatively the questions which I have heard propounded, he ought to have in his library the acts of every state legislature in the Union. Marriage, death, removal of deceased relatives from their places of sepulture, rates of interest, value of stocks, condition of railroads, and statistics of all sorts have been topics which I have heard laid before him for advice and opinion. Very few men, however, possess more general knowledge of the United States than our consul—Mr. Goodrich—does; and his kindness will lead him to do all he can to satisfy the querist. Yours, as ever, j.o.c. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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