In those 'flying stage' days travellers booked their passage, per coach, from the Spread Eagle, Piccadilly, to Paris. On this service the journey from Calais to Paris was performed by the 'Hirondelle' in thirty hours. It was in this manner Mr. Pogson accomplished his eventful first journey, in the society of the fascinating 'Baronne de Florval Delval,' as set forth in the pages of Mr. Titmarsh's 'Paris Sketch-Book.' Mr. Titmarsh has probably contributed the pencilling of the 'old régime' personage in the margin during the progress to the capital. Travelling caps of every order were assumed for comfort during the jolting on the road.

Mr. Titmarsh had become a partial resident in Paris. He might have been seen mastering the contents of the Louvre, the Beaux Arts, and the Luxembourg; occasionally mounting an easel and copying a picture.

Betweenwhiles he is, we may reasonably suppose, engaged on materials similar to his 'Paris Sketch-Book,' or transferring the thrilling thoughts of Béranger into verses which preserve the vitality of that mighty songster. Here the young author and his fanciful double evidently commenced their daily promenade—we may vainly sigh for the pleasure of forming one of such a desirable party—but in spirit, assisted by the sketches which mark his progress, it is just possible to follow the humourist. 'Planta's Paris' is produced from his pocket to receive rapid pencil jottings, slight but graphic, as the subjects present themselves.

First, the lolling ouvrier, common to Paris in all seasons and under every government, slow and shuffling, a lounger through successive régimes.

We recognise the reign of the 'Citizen King' in the person of one of his citizen soldiers, a worthy National Guard, hurrying from commercial allurements to practise the military duties of a patriot.

At another time Mr. Titmarsh may refresh his pictorial tastes by the inspection of M. Phillipon's latest onslaught on 'the poire.'

Here we confront M. Aubert's renowned collection of political cartoons in the Galerie Veron-Dodat, the head-quarters of that irrepressible army of caricaturists whose satiric shafts kept the stout Louis Philippe in a quiver of irritation, until he swept away the liberty of the press.

Before us stands a stern dissentient from any expression assailing the inviolability of the absolute Sovereign who cleverly misnamed himself the 'King of the Barricades.'