Good heavens! I have invested my savings in Turkish Five per cents., and it gives me a cold shiver to think at what figure I shall find these Oriental securities quoted on the Stock Exchange when I emerge from my enforced seclusion and again find myself in communication with the outer world.[1] _December 2nd._ For the last three days the public within the walls of Paris has been kept in profound ignorance of what has been passing outside.

General Trochu has once or twice each day published a despatch saying that everything is happening as he anticipated, and the majority of those who read these oracular utterances religiously believe in them as though they had never been deceived.

On the Boulevards there are crowds who question any soldier who is seen passing.

"Tout va bien" is the only answer which they get; but they seem to be under the impression that the siege is already over, and that the Prussian lines have been forced.
Along the road inside the ramparts, and at the gates, there are dense masses listening to the cannon, and on every mound from which a distant view of the smoke can be obtained men, women, and children are congregated.

I have managed to get every day into the horse-shoe at the mouth of which the fighting was going on, and yesterday afternoon, when there was a semi-suspension of arms to bury the dead, I went with the ambulances on the debateable land between the two armies.