M. Bailly, with difficulty, obtained permission to enter a cabinet adjoining the entrance, to draw up a protest against the exclusion of the Assembly. The Count de Vertan then admitted the secretaries to remove the papers. They found the major portion of the seats removed, and all the avenues of the hall guarded by soldiers. The excitement without became intense, and the streets rung with remonstrances and protests against an arbitrary authority which had thus insulted the representatives of the people. Bailly, with difficulty, by standing on a flight of steps and shouting, collected the delegates together; he then urged on them to remain till some place suitable for continuing their meeting should present itself. 'To Marly!' shouted some. 'Let us go beneath the walls of the château, and hold our session there. Let us show the proud Court that the Third Estate is not to be humbled with impunity.' 'To Marly!' called others. 'Yes, we will march there at once, and make the king hold his royal sitting amongst us, assembled in the open air.' 'Live the king!' was shouted; 'he is managed by our enemies. The queen poisons his mind, but his heart is with the people.' 'Let us go to the Place d'Armes!' cried others. 'To the great Gallery!' was another suggestion; 'to the gallery where the execution of him who pronounced the sacred word LIBERTY was so lately signed.' The mass of people began to roll towards the palace of Versailles. 'In another twenty-four hours,' says Grégoire in his Mémoires, 'bullets would have been flying against the old Court den.' At this moment Bailly reappeared. He had secured the Tennis Court in the Rue S. François of old Versailles; it was Dr. Guillotin's suggestion. Of all the monuments in Versailles, that old, plain, unfurnished Tennis Court is the most interesting. The Englishman visiting Versailles should not forget that the immense palace is but a monument of despotism;--that its grandeur, such as it is, cries aloud of a pride and selfishness so alarming, that Louis XIV burnt the bills for its erection, not venturing to allow them to be seen, whilst France was starving and sinking under a load of debt; while the Jeu de Paume, as the birthplace of the nascent liberties of France, humble and unadorned as it remains, is worthy of his most reverent regard. It was a spacious room, without true windows, but with large openings netted over, which admit light, air, and rain. The walls, covered with yellow wash, were festooned with cobwebs, the roof was unceiled; the floor rudely laid with common pavement, and unprovided with seats.