And again on the 21st: "We are getting on very well here. Nothing has come in since the commencement of the siege, and no one can get out. They say there are provisions to last until February, so we shall have a dose of our own society. About one sixth of the town is now commanded by the Prussian batteries, but we don't know whether they will fire or not. I am living very well on horse and cat--the latter excellent--like rabbit, only better. Our people brag very much, but do little more. The Ultras are going ahead--they have taken now to denouncing crucifixes, which they call ridiculous nudities--a mayor has had them all removed--he then announced that no marriages were to take place in his _arrondissement_--marriage being an insult upon honourable citizens who did not approve of this relic of superstition. This was a little too much, so he was removed, and we are now free to marry or not according to our tastes. I am the intimate friend of Louis Blanc, so no one touches me." One of the most curious things about these letters by balloon was the irregularity in their delivery. It was not merely that one balloon reached friendly or neutral territory in safety, while another did not. Of half a dozen letters coming by the same balloon, two would be delivered, say, on the 6th of the month, one on the 10th, two on the 15th, and the last on the 20th. This greatly puzzled the recipients at the time. The explanation turned out to be that the bag containing the first letter had been sent off immediately the aeronaut descended, whereas the others underwent a variety of adventures. Frequently a balloon fell at or near a place of German occupation. The aeronaut would come down at a run, hurry off with one bag, and give the others to friendly peasants, who secreted them until an opportunity occurred for getting them safely to the nearest post-town. Usually the letters came in beautiful order, {133} without a speck upon them to show an unusual mode of transit. One batch, however, had to be fished out of the sea, off the Cornish coast. In one case a letter was delivered in wonderfully quick time. Dispatched from Paris on a Monday night, it was delivered in London on the following evening.[9] Apparently his "made in Germany" suit did not wear as well as might have been expected, for it was only December when he described his wardrobe as follows: