What, to those who have witnessed the recent transformation scenes in the great Parisian melodrama, is newest and strangest is the crowd of well-dressed holyday-making loungers streaming so thickly over the broad pavement that it is no easy matter to get through them, and occupying every available chair outside the adjoining _cafe_. Where in the world do they all come from? Many of them have stories of their recent experiences to tell which, well arranged, might make the fortune of a theatrical manager--stories so sensational that one would feel bound to refuse them credence if they were not in perfect harmony with the sensational scenes of which every third man's personal experience has supplied him with a specimen. One man has been close prisoner in a cellar two days and nights while fighting has been going on all around him and over his head. Another has had to fly amid bullets from the suffocating smoke of burning buildings, his ears still ringing with the cries of poor wretches who could not muster up their courage for the rush, and who risked a lingering death under the fallen ruins. Numerous corpses have been dug out of cellars over which had fallen masses of burning houses, and many probably still remain, at which it is impossible to get. In the Rue Royale and its immediate neighbourhood last night the air was tainted with the unmistakable smell of putrefying bodies, which, it was supposed, were lying under the huge masses of smouldering woodwork and masonry still heaped upon them. The fire, though the engines have been at work at it six days and nights, has not yet been completely extinguished, and last night I and a friend, although he had his wife to protect him, were compelled to take our turn at the pumps. We in vain pleaded that we would not leave the lady alone. The head of the pressgang who had kidnapped us would be delighted to take care of her while we worked, and as soon as it appeared that we were only to work a short time--not to be kept on indefinitely into the small hours of the night--we were not sorry to lend a helping hand. A fresh batch of captives, condemned to hard labour, shortly came up and replaced us. One of our objections to being kept long at work was that it was getting late, and that after dark it is no very easy or safe matter to go about the streets. JUNE 4th AND 5th. Large crowds took advantage of the free permission accorded yesterday to pass through the gates of Paris, and to-day the streets are filled to overflowing with sightseers examining the ruins and other traces of the siege. Many foreigners have already arrived, some for pleasure, some to recommence business operations. Arrests are still numerous of men and women, many of the arrested apparently belonging to the respectable classes. It has been proposed to set on foot throughout Europe a subscription to restore the public buildings destroyed in Paris.