On Friday night there was an abortive sortie at Clamart. Some of the newspapers say that the troops engaged in it were kept too long waiting, and that they warmed their feet by stamping, and made so much noise that the Prussians caught wind of the gathering. Be this as it may, as soon as they got into Clamart they were received with volleys of musketry, and withdrew. I am told that the marching battalions of the National Guard, now in the trenches, are doing their work better than was expected. The generals in command are satisfied with them, but whether they will be of any great use for offensive operations, is a question yet to be solved. The clubs still keep up their outcry for "La Commune," which they imagine will prove a panacea for every evil. In the club of the Rue Arras last night, a speaker went a step still further, and demanded "the establishment of anarchy as the ruling power." Trochu is still either attacked, or feebly defended, in the newspapers. The French are so accustomed to the State doing everything for them, that their ruler is made responsible for everything which goes wrong. The demand for a sortie _en masse_ is not so strong. Every one is anxious not to surrender, and no one precisely knows how a surrender is to be avoided. Successes on paper have so long done duty for successes in the field, that no one, even yet, can believe that this paper currency has been so depreciated that bankruptcy must ensue. Is it possible, each man asks, that 500,000 armed Frenchmen will have to surrender to half the number of Germans? And as they reply that it is impossible, they come to the conclusion that treason must be at work, and look round for the traitor. Trochu, who is as honest and upright as a man as he is incompetent as a general, will probably share the fate of the "Man of Sedan" and the "Man of Metz," as they are called. "He is a Laocoon," says M. Felix Pyat in his newspaper, with some confusion of metaphor, "who will strangle the Republic."