battalions of National Guards among them, belonging, I heard, to the Volunteers. I pushed on to an inn situated at the intersection of the roads to Bourget and Courneuve. There I was stopped. It was raining hard, and all I could make out was that Prussians and French were busily engaged in firing, the former into Bourget, the latter into Stains and Dugny. It appears to have been feared that the Prussians would make an attack from Bourget upon either St. Denis or Aubervilliers; it was discovered, however, that they had no batteries there. Whether we shall be able to hold the position, or whether, if we do, we shall derive any benefit from it beyond having a large area in which to pick up vegetables, time alone will prove. On returning into Paris I came across in the Rue Rivoli about 200 patriots of all ages, brandishing flags and singing patriotic songs. These were National Guards, who had been engaged in a pacific demonstration at the Hotel de Ville, to testify their affection to the Republic, and to demonstrate that that affection should be reciprocated by the Republic in the form of better arms, better pay, and better food. They had been harangued by Rochefort and Arago. I see by this morning's paper that the latter requested them to swear that not only would they drive the Prussians out of France, but that they would refuse to treat with any Government in Germany except a Republican one. A decree of General Trochu converts the Legion of Honour into a military decoration. The journalists of all colours are excessively indignant at this, for they all expect, when the party which they support is in power, to be given this red ribbon as a matter of course. It has been so lavishly distributed that anyone who has not got it is almost obliged to explain why he is without it, in the way a person would excuse himself if he came into a drawing-room without a coat. The theatres are by degrees reopening. In order not to shock public opinion, the programmes of their entertainments are exceedingly dull. Thus the Comedie Francaise bill of fare for yesterday was a speech, a play of Moliere's without costumes, and an ode to Liberty. I can understand closing the theatres entirely, but it seems to me absurd increasing the general gloom, by opening them in order to make the audiences wish that they were closed. Fancy, for an evening's entertainment, a speech from Mr. Cole, C.B.; the play of _Hamlet_ played in the dresses of the present century; and an ode from Mr. Tupper.