of moderate opinions and the defeat of his party, because the minority has not worked its evil will, because a faction has been condemned by the judgment of the nation. He hopes, however, to compensate himself by shortly imbruing his hands in the blood of his countrymen, to the greater glory of his favourite colour. He tosses his head proudly as he walks; his brow, his beard, his eyes, as well as his cravat, all cry "_aux armes!_" See how he sneers upon the tricolor banner as he passes. Let him alone, and he will declare the tricolor _suspect_: his symbol, the red, is alone to be acknowledged: those who recognise it not shall amply be taxed with their life's blood to supply its dye. Awful is this symbol; but it is the general symbol of the sentiment of the _soi-disant_ "pure democratic," ever-revolutionising party of violence and force: it is the symbol of that party which, were you to ask them what was meant by a republic, would seriously inform you, a constant state of convulsive revolution, to lop off, break down, and destroy; the rebuilding on the ruins is with them but a matter of very secondary consideration. When, in the disastrous insurrection of Rouen, the ultra party used all its instruments, and excited a few misguided artisans to take up arms for the purpose of annulling the "universal suffrage" elections, that had turned out in favour of the moderate majority, the "red" was hoisted as the symbol of the party sentiment. Whatever may have since been written by the party journals, there was no doubt, at this time, of the republican opinions of both parties; the violent faction took upon itself the denomination of the "_red_ republic," and thought to stigmatise the moderates by the title of the "blue republic." Red and blue were the rallying symbols,--the red, of anarchy and violence; the blue, of order and moderation. Throughout the country, during the many insurrections that burst out on account of the triumph of the moderate party in the elections, the symbol was ever the same: that of the party of order varied, but that of the ultra faction was invariably the same. In the many strange and curious episodes that followed the revolution in Paris of February,--it is necessary to distinguish by dates, since, before these lines are printed, none can tell but that another may have already taken place,--that of those strange gangs, who constituted themselves the _soi-disant_ guardians of the Tuileries, or the defenders of the cannon of the Hôtel de Ville, was one of the most extraordinary, and by these men the same colour was adopted as their symbol: they bound red cravats about their necks, and tied red scarfs around their waists. The band of brigands that had assumed the governorship of the palace of the Tuileries, was with difficulty ejected from it, after much weak parleying and truckling on the part of the government, and was at length reduced by a threat of famine; but that of the Hôtel de Ville maintained its power. It was