Everywhere there are squads of Nationaux, some learning the goose-step, others practising skirmishing between the carts and fiacres, others levelling their guns and snapping them off at imaginary Prussians.

The omnibuses are crowded; and I fear greatly that their horses will be far from tender when we eat them.

The cabbies, once so haughty and insolent, are humble and conciliatory, for Brutus and Scaevola have taught them manners, and usually pay their fares in patriotic speeches.

At the Arc de Triomphe, at the Trocadero, and at Passy, near the Point du Jour, there are always crowds trying to see the Prussians on the distant hills, and in the Avenue de l'Imperatrice (now the Avenue Uhrich), there are always numerous admirers of Mont Valerien gazing silently upon the object of their worship.

In the Faubourg St.
Antoine workmen are lounging about doing nothing, and watching others drilling.