I do not know if this degree of ardour and confidence is to be accepted as general. I quote it as an illustration of the feeling in Paris on the seventh day of the siege. The fighting is at present round the fortifications; later on it will be on the ramparts, and then in the streets. First the detached forts; then the _enceinte_; then the barricades. And when it comes to these--if it ever gets so far--independent of the organised forces of all kinds, there will be the populace, the Paris mob, intelligent and bold men, who fight well on the barricades for the very fun of it. How long will this defence of Paris last? I do not know, and am not going to prophesy. But what I do know, what I hear from all sides, is that it will last long enough to excite a patriotic and warlike sentiment through the whole land. France is not peopled with heroes; there are the bold and the timid, as in every other country; but there are heroes enough--and others will arise--to keep the nation in a state of fever, and consequently Europe in a state of alarm inconsistent with true peace, with the prosperity of the nations and the security of European order. The Prussians, and, as I am told, Bismarck himself, have reckoned, and are perhaps still reckoning, on our internal dissensions and quarrels, kept alive by the traditions and the hopes of the old parties. It is a natural error, but made in complete ignorance of the actual state of things. National sentiment has overcome the old discord. One sole, universal and absorbing passion dominates all parties--the passion of defending the soil and honour of France. Two of the most illustrious Vendeens, MM. de Cathelineau et Stofflet, have asked for and received from the Government an authorisation to assist them against the Prussians. MM. Rochefort and Gustave Flourens, formerly the most ardent democrats, have joined the government of General Trochu, and are preparing barricades, to maintain a fierce struggle against the besiegers at the gates and in the streets of Paris, if it should ever be necessary. 7 P.M.--My letter was interrupted by the arrival of the evening papers, and a letter from my daughter Pauline, dated September 25th, brought by a balloon. I copy the following, _verbatim_:-- 'After being on guard the day before yesterday, for twenty-six hours, without anything worse than repeated alarms, my husband and son returned and are somewhat rested. Yesterday we went to Montmartre--a very populous and stirring quarter. I cannot tell you often enough how well Paris is behaving; enthusiasm and unanimity prevail everywhere; the good and the wise have silenced the fools. This will raise up France; it is a balm for many sorrows. I can assure you the country is not demoralised. I do not know how long the trial will last, but we shall be the better for it.'