The Commune has seized the silver ornaments and other valuables of the Church of the Trinity. All the other churches of Paris will shortly be treated in a similar manner, and will then be closed. All arrests and requisitions are being carried out by Flourens's corps of Avengers. The demolition of the Expiatory Chapel was commenced to-day. The gate at Point du Jour is destroyed. Yesterday evening two battalions of troops carried the Ory Farm and Plichon House, near Fort Montrouge, at the point of the bayonet. The Federalists had about 400 killed and wounded, and lost 42 prisoners, including a Chief of Battalion. The troops also captured a flag, but subsequently evacuated the conquered positions, as they were too much exposed to the fire of the enemy. The loss of the Versailles troops was small. * * * * * THE VENDOME COLUMN. Foul is the bird that soils her own nest! As though they had not suffered enough of mortification and defeat at the hands of the enemy, the Parisians have succeeded in emptying the cup of disgrace to the dregs by dragging down the monument of their military glory, amid hoots and hisses, and toppling over the effigy of their greatest soldier-hero on to a bed of mire, at the same time publicly tearing the tricoloured national flag which has for so many years led their armies to victory. Upon the official announcement some days back that the Vendome Column was to be sacrificed as an insult to the principles of fraternity, everybody laughed and thought it a good joke, never believing that the plan would be carried out, even in spite of the ominous scaffoldings and curtains which rose around its base. A few days later we were told that it had been sawn through, and that a solemn Festival would be held to commemorate this new display of liberty. We thought the party of Order would protest; that the veterans of the Invalides would make a movement; that the mass of the population would insist upon the abandonment of such a piece of folly. But we forgot the state of coma into which respectable Paris has fallen, and that those who had allowed themselves to be ground down by a tyrannical few would scarcely bestir themselves in defence of their public monuments. It became apparent that the column was really doomed, and the Rue de la Paix was crowded by an expectant multitude at about 3 o'clock on Monday afternoon; the balconies were filled with ladies; all the windows were pasted with paper to neutralize the expected concussion, while cake and newspaper vendors and _marchands de coco_ plied a busy trade, and elbowed their way about among the people down below. Three ropes had been fastened round the top of the column beneath the statue, communicating with a crazy-looking windlass and anchor placed in the centre of the road at the entrance of the Rue Neuve des Capucines, and a long narrow dung heap filled with sand and branches had been spread in the square to deaden the shock of the falling mass.