These men came from the foot of the Alps, crowned with eternal snows; from the deep valleys of the Pyrenees, and the rugged regions of Cevinnes and Auvergne; from the low dreary lands washed by the waters of the Atlantic, and from the iron-bound coast of Bretagne. They came from the valley of the Rhone, where ancient Rome has left its imperishable monuments, and the vine-clad hills of Garonne; from the broad bosom of the Loire, and the banks of the Seine; from the forests of Ardennes; from the plains of Picardy and Artois; from every corner in France the people came forth rejoicing to join the grand jubilee at Paris. The people of the city were making noble preparations for their patriotic guests. The grand ovation was to be given in the Champ de Mars, a large, open space lying between the military school and the Seine. The ground was turned into an amphitheatre by removing the earth from the center, and piling it around the circumference, forming it into seats of turf, tier above tier, until a space was secured larger by many times than the arenas old Rome ever gave to her gladiators. Twelve thousand men worked day and night in this arena, but the impatience of the people was greater than their efforts. So the Parisians fell to work themselves. Men and women, rich and poor, priests and soldiers, came in sections, with banners and music, spades and barrows, to work while the day lasted. When the signal was given, they returned home singing and dancing by the light of their torches. Before the day appointed the great amphitheatre was complete. In front of the military school was stretched a noble awning of purple cloth, ornamented with golden _fleur de lis_, and under this glittered the royal throne, with seats for the president of the Assembly and the deputies. In the center of the amphitheatre the people had built an altar ascended by broad steps, from which a great cross rose toward heaven with solemn significance. At six o’clock on the fourteenth two grand spectacles were witnessed in Paris. The morning was cloudy, and the rain came down in torrents, but this had no power to check the enthusiasm of the people. They filled the streets by thousands on thousands, and the sun, had it shone that day, would have poured its light on more than three hundred thousand citizens seated patiently in the Champ de Mars, waiting for the ceremonies which were to commemorate their first great step toward the freedom they never learned how to use or keep. In the vast space on which they looked, fifty thousand soldiers were gathered, while three hundred priests, in white surplices and broad, tri-colored sashes, slowly surrounded the altar. Beyond all this arose a second and more noble amphitheatre, of which the Champ de Mars was the center, Montmartre, St. Cloud, Mudon, and Sevres, swept in grand panorama around the basin in which Paris stands. Nearer yet, the quay of Chailet and the heights of Passy were crowded with eager spectators.