THERE are some things which can only be done in Paris, or at least can only be done by Frenchmen, and one of these has furnished for the last fortnight a most attractive spectacle for the people of this place and those who visit it. The French not only delight in scenic effect, but produce it with a dexterity, despatch and success which find no parallel elsewhere.
A few weeks ago the interior of the Palais de l'Industrie, the Crystal Palace of France, built among the trees of the Champs Elysées, was a bare and empty space, with a floor of dust and gravel, and rafters streaming with cobwebs. The order for an exhibition of flowers was given, and in three or four weeks the dusty waste was transformed into a fresh and beautiful garden. I went to see it the other day-a hot day for the season. We passed from the entrance to the garden