shops are crowded with tipsy people, the drunken braggarts who boast
they have made a revolution. When a stroke succeeds there are plenty of
rascals ready to say: I did it. Drinking, singing, and talking are the
order of the day. At every step you come upon "piled arms." At the
corner of the Passage de l'Elysée-des-Beaux-Arts I met crowds of people,
some lying on the ground; here a battalion standing at ease but ready
to march; and at the entrance of the Rue Blanche and the Rue Fontaine
were some stones, ominously posed one on the other, indicating symptoms
of a barricade. In the Rue des Abbesses I counted three cannons and a
mitrailleuse, menacing the Rue des Martyrs. In the Rue des Acacias, a
man had been arrested, and was being conducted by National Guards to the
guard-house: I heard he was a thief. Such arrests are characteristic
features in a Parisian émeute. Notwithstanding these little scenes the
disorder is not excessive, and but for the multitude of men in uniform
one might believe it the evening of a popular fête; the victors are
amusing themselves.

[Illustration: Sentinels, Rue Du Val De Grâce and Boulevard St. Michel.]

Among the Federals this evening there are very few linesmen; perhaps
they have gone to their barracks to enjoy their meal of soup and bread.

Upon the main boulevards noisy groups are commenting upon the events of
the day. At the corner of the Rue Drouot an officer of the 117th
Battalion is reading in a loud voice, or rather reciting, for he knows
it all by heart, the proclamation of M. Picard, the official poster of
the afternoon.

"The Government appeals to you to defend your city, your home, your
children, and your property.