man of military experience—who does not know what profound experience M. Lullier has acquired in his numerous campaigns—and yet you put him, or rather throw him, into the Prefecture! This is bad, very bad. “The Prefecture is transformed into a state prison, and the most rigorous discipline is maintained.” It appears then that the Communal prison is anything but a fool’s paradise. “However, in spite of everything, I and my secretary managed to make our escape calmly ...”—the calm of the high-minded—“from a cell where I was strictly guarded, to pass two court-yards and a dozen or two of soldiers, to have three doors opened for me while the sentinels presented arms as I passed ...” What a wonderful escape: the adventures of Baron Munchausen are nothing to it. What a fine chapter poor old Dumas might have made of it. The door of the cell is passed under the very nose of the jailer, who has doubtless been drugged with some narcotic, of which M. Lullier has learnt the secret during his travels in the East Indies; the twelve guards in the court-yards are seized one after another by the throat, thrown on the ground, bound with cords, and prevented from giving the alarm by twelve gags thrust into their twelve mouths; the three doors are opened by three enormous false keys, the work of a member of the Commune, locksmith by trade, who has remained faithful to the cause of M. Lullier; and last, but not least, the sentinels, plunged in ecstasy at the sight of the glorious fugitive, present arms. What a scene for a melodrama! The most interesting figure, however, in my opinion, is the secretary. I have the greatest respect for that secretary, who never dreamt one instant of abandoning his master, and I can see him, while Lullier is accomplishing his miracles, calmly writing in the midst of the danger, with a firm hand, the faithful account of these immortal adventures. “I have now,” continues the ex-prisoner of the ex-Prefecture, “two hundred determined men, who serve me as a guard, and three excellent revolvers, loaded, in my pocket. I had foolishly remained too long without arms and without friends; now I am resolved to blow the brains out of the first man who tries to arrest me!” I heard a bourgeois who had read this exclaim, that he wished to Heaven each member of the Commune would come to arrest him in turn. Oh! blood-thirsty bourgeois! Then Lullier finishes up by declaring that he scorns to hide, but continues to show himself freely and openly on the boulevards. What a proud, what a noble nature! Oh, ye marionettes, ye fantoccini! Yet let me not be unjust; I will try and believe in you once more, in spite of armed requisitions, in spite of arrests, of robberies—for there have been robberies in spite of your decrees—I will try and believe that you have not only taken possession of the Hôtel de Ville for the purpose of setting up a Punch and Judy show and playing your sinister farces; I want to believe that you had and still have