This is clear, the Freemasons are to hoist their banner on to the walls of Paris side by side with the standard of the Commune; and who is blind enough to imagine, that the shells and bullets, indiscriminately homicidal, fratricidal, and infanticidal as they prove, are imbued with tact sufficient to steer clear of the Freemasons’ banners, and injure in their flight only those of the Commune? As the Versailles projectiles have only one end in view, that of piercing both the Parisians and their standards, as a national consequence if both Parisians and standards are pierced, it is likewise most probable that the Masonic banners will not remain unscathed in so dangerous a neighbourhood. And if so, what will be the result? According to Citizen Térifocq “the Freemasons of Paris will call to their aid the direst vengeance; the Masons of all the provinces of France will follow their example; everywhere the brothers will fraternise with the troops which are marching on to help Paris. On the other hand, if the Versailles gunners do not aim at the Masons, but only at the National Guards (_sic!_), then the Masons will join the battalions in the field, and encourage by their example the gallant soldiers, defenders of the city.” This is all rather complicated—what can come of it? Escorted by an ever-increasing crowd, we reach the Place de la Bastille. Several discourses are spouted forth at the foot of the column, but the combined effects of noise, dust, and fatigue have blunted my senses, and I hear nothing; it seems, however to be about the same thing over again, for the same acclamations of the crowd greet the same gestures on the part of the orators. We are off again down the Boulevards; the long procession, with its waving banners and glittering signs, is hailed by the populace with delight. Having reached the Place de la Concorde, I loiter behind. Groups are stationed here and there. I go from one to another, trying to gather what these open-air politicians think of all this Masonic parade. Shortly fugitives are seen hurrying back from the Champs Elysées, shouting, and gesticulating. “Horror! Abomination! They respect nothing! Vengeance!” I hear a brother-mason has been killed by a shell opposite the Rue du Colysée; that the white flag is riddled with shot; that the Versailles rifles have singled out, killed and wounded several masons. In a very short time the terrible news, increased and exaggerated as it spread, filled every quarter of Paris with consternation. I returned home in a most perplexed state of mind, from which I could not arouse myself until the arrival, towards evening, of a friend, a freemason, and consequently well informed. This, it appears, is what took place.