Whenever anyone looked at them they sneaked away with deprecating glances.

They are dressed in a sort of pea-jacket, with hoods, black trousers, and black caps, and their general appearance was a cross between a sailor and a monk.

I have at length discovered with surprise that these retiring innocents are the new sergents-de-ville of M.Keratry, who are daily denounced by the Ultras as ferocious wolves eager to rend and devour all honest citizens.
If this be true, I can only say that they are well disguised in sheep's clothing.
Letters from Paris, if ever they do get to London, must necessarily be so dull, that they can hardly repay the trouble of reading them.

Life here is about as lively as life on board a ship.

The two main subjects of conversation, the military preparations within the town, and the amount of food, are in honour tabooed to correspondents.