Deprived of our shepherd and our sheep-dogs, we civic sheep have set up so loud a ba-ba, that we have terrified the wolves who wished to devour us.

In the impossible event of an ultimate capitulation we shall hang our swords and our muskets over our fire-places, and say to our grandchildren, "I, too, was one of the defenders of Paris." In the meantime, soldiers who have run away when attacked are paraded through the streets with a placard on their breasts, requesting all good citizens to spit upon them.

Two courts-martial have been established to judge spies and marauders, and in each of the nine sections there is a court-martial to sit upon peccant National Guards.

"The sentence," says the decree, "will at once be executed by the detachment on duty." We are preparing for the worst; in the Place of the Pantheon, and other squares, it is proposed to take up the paving stones, because they will, if left, explode shells which may strike them.

The windows of the Louvre and other public edifices are being filled with sand bags.