It does not follow, however, that I do not regret that they were not better employed. The siege of Paris is in the hands of General Moltke, and the _Gaulois_ may depend upon it that this wary strategist is not at all likely to give up the task by any number of journalists informing him that he is certain to fail. I have got a cold, so I have not been out this morning. I hear that some of the troops have come in from Aubervilliers, and several regiments have marched by my windows. At Neuilly-sur-Marne and Bondy, it is said, earthworks are being thrown up; and it is supposed that Chelles will, as the Americans say, be the objective point of any movement which may take place in that direction. The _Patrie_ has been suspended for three days for alluding to military operations. It did more than allude, it ventured to doubt the wisdom of our generals. As many other journals have done the same I do not understand why the _Patrie_ should have been singled out for vengeance. CHAPTER XV. _December 25th._ Real Christmas weather--that is to say, the earth is as hard as a brickbat, and the wind freezes one to the very marrow. To the rich man, with a good coal fire in his grate, turkey, roast beef, plum pudding, and mince pies on his table, and his family gorging themselves on the solid eatables, a frost at Christmas is very pleasant. Poor people cowering in their rags before the door of a union, cold, hungry, and forlorn, or munching their dry bread in some cheerless garret, may not perhaps so fully appreciate its advantages; but then we all know that poor people never are contented, and seldom understand the fitness of things. Here in Paris, the numbed soldiers out in the open fields, and the women and children, who have no fires and hardly any food, bitterly complain of the "seasonable" weather. With plenty of money, with warm clothes, and a good house, a hard frost has its charms, without them it is not quite so agreeable. For my part I confess that I never have seen a paterfamilias with his coat tails raised, basking himself before his fire, and prating about the delights of winter, and the healthy glow which is caused by a sharp frost, without feeling an irresistible desire to transplant him stark naked to the highest peak of Mont Blanc, in order to teach by experience what winter means to thousands of his fellow-creatures. We are not having a "merry Christmas," and we are not likely to have a happy new year. Christmas is not here the great holiday of the year, as it is in England. Still, everyone in ordinary times tries to have a better dinner than usual, and usually where there are children in a family some attempt is made to amuse them. Among the bourgeoisie they are told to put their shoes in the grate on Christmas-eve, and the next morning some present is found in them, which is supposed to have been left during the night by the Infant Jesus. Since the Empire introduced English ways here, plum-pudding and