Everything is most delightfully upset at the Vestiaire. Rootie and I turned up for work as usual this A.M., and found that the balcony of the Arts Décoratifs building--on rue Rivoli--had been offered to the workers at the Vestiaire this morning, to watch the parade of our soldiers! We just all tumbled into the two cars as fast as we could,--Dr. Shurtleff coming in ours,--and with Rootie driving, we followed Miss Curtis as fast as we could over to the Louvre. When we arrived at the entrance to the garden, under those old gray stone arches, there were many policemen guarding the way, and they all pointed down the street, saying that we must follow the Quai, but Mrs. Shurtleff leaned out of the car and said that we were an American oeuvre, and that we were going to see our soldiers from special seats, so they let us through. We put the cars in one corner of the garden and then went through to the Arts Décoratifs building. The balcony was one flight up, and almost on the corner of rue des Pyramides, where the statue of Jeanne d'Arc is. We could see the procession as it rounded the corner at the Place de la Concorde, and watch it out of sight down the rue Rivoli. The sidewalks were already lined with people, and the balconies all along were full of people. Just as we could hear the drums faintly, and could just make out the Garde de Paris on their horses, with their white belts and shining brass helmets, we heard an ah-h--run through the crowd. A flying machine--one of the smaller French ones, with the tricolor painted on each wing--was making circles and diving down low, and soaring up again over the soldiers as they crossed the Concorde. The pilot was magnificent to watch, but very reckless, for he flew so low and turned such tremendously quick curves that if anything went wrong, he would have hurt many people, and, of course, not had a chance himself. However, it was wonderful to watch, and got the crowd thoroughly excited. It made me think of the performance the first man gave who went up to show us--when we were at Chaudon, seeing the American Escadrille. When he came down, he got fits from the captain for taking such chances! After a short wait, they came, and the crowd just went mad: first, the Garde Républicaine, on wonderful-looking horses; then a French band, all in uniform, of course, and much to our joy they struck up a tune just at our corner. They were such a fine-looking lot of men--short, thick-set, hardy, jovial chaps, each one with a rose either pinned to his coat or stuck in his helmet strap. The few soldiers who formed sort of a guard for the band had their roses stuck in the end of their rifles!