[At] "ten minutes to ten.... I went a long way along the Boulevards, passing by the office of Foreign Affairs, where Guizot lives, and where to-night there were about a thousand troops protecting him from the fury of the populace. After this was passed, the number of the people thickened, till about half a mile further on, I met a troop of vagabonds, the wildest vagabonds in the world--Paris vagabonds, well armed, having probably broken into gunsmiths' shops and taken the guns and swords. They were about a hundred. These were followed by about a thousand (I am rather diminishing than exaggerating numbers all through), indifferently armed with rusty sabres, sticks, etc. An uncountable troop of gentlemen, workmen, shopkeepers' wives (Paris women dare anything), ladies'-maids, common women--in fact, a crowd of all classes, though by far the greater number were of the better-dressed class--followed. Indeed, it was a splendid sight: the mob in front chanting the 'Marseillaise,' the national war-hymn, grave and powerful, sweetened by the night air--though night in these splendid streets was turned into day, every window was filled with lamps, dim torches were tossing in the crowd, ... for Guizot has late this night given in his resignation, and this was an improvised illumination. "I and my father had turned with the crowd, and were close behind the second troop of vagabonds. Joy was on every face. I remarked to papa that 'I would not have missed the scene for anything, I might never see such a splendid one,' when _plong_ went one shot--every face went pale--_r-r-r-r-r_ went the whole detachment, [and] the whole crowd of gentlemen and ladies turned and cut. Such a scene!--ladies, gentlemen, and vagabonds went sprawling in the mud, not shot but tripped up; and those that went down could not rise, they were trampled over.... I ran a short time straight on and did not fall, then turned down a side street, ran fifty yards and felt tolerably safe; looked for papa, did not see him; so walked on quickly, giving the news as I went." [It appears, from another letter, the boy was the first to carry word of the firing to the Rue St. Honore; and that his news wherever he brought it was received with hurrahs. It was an odd entrance upon life for a little English lad, thus to play the part of rumour in such a crisis of the history of France.]