Women and girl newspaper-sellers have become familiar figures in Paris, and their number is increasing steadily as the needs of the army are depriving more and more families of their bread-winners. A pathetic figure seen on the Boulevard des Italiens yesterday afternoon was a woman toiling along under the weight of a sleeping child about five years old, and calling her newspapers gently, so as not to wake him. _Tuesday, August 18._ Seventeenth day of mobilization. Cloudy weather with occasional patches of blue sky. Thermometer at five P.M. 17 degrees centigrade. Light northeasterly wind. It is now for the first time officially announced that the British expeditionary force has safely landed in France and in Belgium. The transportation has been effected in perfect order, promptly on schedule time, and without the slightest hitch or casualty. British troops were everywhere received with immense enthusiasm. Not only have they landed at Ostend, Boulogne, and Havre, with all their field transports, but they have been taken up the Seine in steamers to Rouen, whence they were entrained on the strategic lines for Belgium. M.J.A. Picard, a young Frenchman, and his wife arrived from New York and reached Paris via Boulogne. M. Picard will join the army to-morrow as a reservist employed in the general staff. His wife will act as a correspondent of the _Tribune_ in France. M. Picard said that Boulogne was full of British troops. They marched through the narrow streets of the city wearing their khaki uniforms, thousands upon thousands of them, roaring as they pass the new British war slogan: "Are we downhearted? _No-o-o-o-o! Shall we win? Ye-e-e-e-e-s-s-s!_" Then came an Irish regiment with their brown jolly faces beaming with fun, and singing: "It's a long way to Tipperary ... It's a long way to go!" A Welsh battalion followed, whistling the "Marseillaise." The prettiest girls in every town throw flowers and kisses to these stalwart British lads. As soon as the order to break ranks is given, bevies of smiling lasses surround the troops, offering them sandwiches, fruit, wine, and flowers, and even kisses. There would be thousands of jealous girls in England, Scotland, Ireland, and Wales to-day if they could but witness the reception. Highland regiments wearing the kilt have stupendous success with the blushing young women of France. From the seat of war in Belgium, and also in the North Sea, the same awful silence continues, and Parisians manifest growing impatience for the inevitable great battle. I went to the Ministry of War with M. and Mme. Picard, but no news of military importance was communicated. _Wednesday, August 19._ Eighteenth day of mobilization. Fine summer weather, with light northerly wind. Temperature at five P.M. 17 degrees centigrade.