General Bellemare has been suspended. He, it appears, is to be the scapegoat of the Bourget affair. I hear from the Quartier-General that the real reason why the artillery did not arrive in time to hold this position was, not because Bellemare did not ask for it, but because he could not get it. Red tape and routine played their old game. From St. Denis none could be sent, because St. Denis is within the "territorial defence of Paris," and Bourget is not. In vain Bellemare's officers went here and there. They were sent from pillar to post, from one aged General to another, and at eleven o'clock on the day when Bourget was taken, after the troops had been driven out of it, the artillery, every formality having been gone through, was on its way to the village. It is pleasant, whilst one is cut off from the outer world, to be reminded by these little traits of one's native land, its War-Office and its Horse-Guards. I was out yesterday afternoon along our southern advanced posts. A few stray shots were occasionally fired by Francs-tireurs; but there seemed to be a tacit understanding that no offensive operations should take place. The fall of the leaves enables us to distinguish clearly the earthworks and the redoubts which the Prussians have thrown up. I am not a military man, but my civilian mind cannot comprehend why Vanves and Montrouge do not destroy with their fire the houses occupied on the plateau of Chatillon by the Prussians. I asked an officer, who was standing before Vanves, why they did not. He shrugged his shoulders, and said, "It is part of the plan, I suppose." Trochu is respected by the troops, but they have little confidence in his skill as a commander. In the evening I went to the Club Rue d'Arras, which is presided over by the "venerable" Blanqui in person, and where the Ultras of the Ultras congregate. The club is a large square room, with a gallery at one end and a long tribune at the other. On entering through a baize door one is called upon to contribute a few sous to the fund for making cannon. When I got there it was about 8.30. The venerable Blanqui was seated at a table on the tribune; before him were two assessors. One an unwholesome citizen, with long blond hair hanging down his back, the other a most truculent-looking ruffian. The hall was nearly full; many were in blouses, the rest in uniform; about one-fifth of the audience was composed of women, who either knitted, or nourished the infants, which they held in their arms. A citizen was speaking. He held a list in his hand of a new Government. As he read out the names some were applauded, others rejected. I had found a place on a bench by the side of a lady with a baby, who was occupied, like most of the other babies, in taking its supper. Its food, however, apparently did not agree with it, for it commenced to squall lustily. "Silence," roared a hundred voices, but the baby only yelled the louder. "Sit upon it," observed some energetic