the Flag, our National Guard will 'reply with volleys of musketry,'
Church and Cathedral though it be; (See Hist. Parl. iii. 20; Mercier,
Nouveau Paris, &c.) filling Notre Dame with such noisiest fuliginous
Amen, significant of several things.

On the whole, we will say our new Mayor Bailly; our new Commander
Lafayette, named also 'Scipio-Americanus,' have bought their preferment
dear. Bailly rides in gilt state-coach, with beefeaters and sumptuosity;
Camille Desmoulins, and others, sniffing at him for it: Scipio bestrides
the 'white charger,' and waves with civic plumes in sight of all France.
Neither of them, however, does it for nothing; but, in truth, at an
exorbitant rate. At this rate, namely: of feeding Paris, and keeping
it from fighting. Out of the City-funds, some seventeen thousand of the
utterly destitute are employed digging on Montmartre, at tenpence a day,
which buys them, at market price, almost two pounds of bad bread;--they
look very yellow, when Lafayette goes to harangue them. The Townhall
is in travail, night and day; it must bring forth Bread, a Municipal
Constitution, regulations of all kinds, curbs on the Sansculottic Press;
above all, Bread, Bread.

Purveyors prowl the country far and wide, with the appetite of lions;
detect hidden grain, purchase open grain; by gentle means or forcible,
must and will find grain. A most thankless task; and so difficult,
so dangerous,--even if a man did gain some trifle by it! On the 19th
August, there is food for one day. (See Bailly, Memoires, ii. 137-409.)
Complaints there are that the food is spoiled, and produces an effect
on the intestines: not corn but plaster-of-Paris! Which effect on the
intestines, as well as that 'smarting in the throat and palate,' a
Townhall Proclamation warns you to disregard, or even to consider as
drastic-beneficial. The Mayor of Saint-Denis, so black was his bread,