"You naughty child," I heard a woman who was walking before me say to her daughter, "if you do not behave better I will not take you to see the bombardment." "It is better than a vaudeville," said a girl near me on the Trocadero, and she clapped her hands.

A man at Point-du-Jour showed me two great holes which had been made in his garden the night before by two bombs close by his front door.

He, his wife, and his children seemed to be rather proud of them.

I asked him why he did not move into the interior of the town, and he said that he could not afford it.

In a German paper which recently found its way in, it was stated that the bombardment of Paris would commence when the psychological moment had arrived.