On the morrow, at daybreak, all started at beat of drum. When the noise of the drum ceased, all joined in the chorus of the _Ça ira_ of ’90, which has nothing in common with the menacing and bloodthirsty _Ça ira_ of ’93. This song kept up the energies of those men on the march, who were toiling along under a hot July sun, to the end of the journey. It supported those laborers who were making the arena, so to speak, where great deeds were to be done. We have said that it was with an unwilling heart that the Assembly decreed the federation—that it was with an unwilling heart that the city had sent its workmen to the Champ de Mars, to prepare for that great and solemn reunion. The time approached—the work did not proceed. What happened? All Paris rose, and proceeded to the Champ de Mars carrying various implements of labor—one a pickaxe another a shovel, and so on. And not only did the people—not only did the _bourgeoisie_ do this, but old men and children, lords and laborers, ladies of rank and women of shame, actors and actresses, priests and soldiers,—all joined in the work, which did not even close when night fell like a shroud over the city of Paris. The invalids, who could not work on account of their being maimed, held the torches, to lighten them at their labors. Begun in the morning of the 9th of July, this stupendous work was completed in the night of the 13th, two hours before sunrise. We arrived on the 12th, in the evening. Paris was crowded; but, strange to say, the hotel keepers and letters of lodgings, instead of raising their prices, lowered them considerably. This spoke well for the disposition of Paris towards us. Truly this was not the federation of France, but the fraternal greeting of the world. A Prussian Baron—Jean Baptiste de Clootz, better known by the name of Anacharsis—presented himself before the National Assembly with twenty men of different nations—Russians, Poles, men of the north, men of the west, men of the east, and men of the south,—all habited in the costume of their country. He came to ask permission for them to appear at the federation of the Champ de Mars, as they wished to represent the federation of the world. Later on, this same Anacharsis Clootz wished to give twelve thousand francs, to make war against royalty. One may imagine my astonishment on finding myself in Paris, on the Boulevards, gazing at the ruins of the Bastille. Drouet pointed it out to me, afterwards, the patriotic workmen on the Champ de Mars. I rushed to join them; and, seizing a spade, was speedily hard at work. My fellow-workman appeared to be an artizan of about fifty years of age. He gave orders to a boy about my age, who was close at hand. On seeing the ardor with which I worked, he asked me who I was, and whence I came. I told him that my name was Réné Besson; that I came from the new department of the Meuse; and that I was apprenticed to a carpenter, by trade.