At the other end of the city, they gather round the Eiffel Tower, which now bears the highest artillery in the world. Here are placed immense machine guns. Up at Montmartre, the people gather in little circles to read the letters they have received from their soldier boys and to discuss the possibility of Paris being captured. They have forgotten all about their once lively dance-halls and cabarets. There are but few artists left in this quarter now, for they have either gone home or to the front, while the women and children amuse themselves reading the last extra or listening to an organ-grinder giving them many patriotic airs for a few sous. How lonely and sad these vacant streets and boulevards look, contrasted with their appearance on the 15th of July, which is France's national holiday. Then there was dancing on nearly every street corner, made livelier by the throwing of confetti, careless laughter and much kissing. The Queen of Beauty ruled then, while now havoc and the cruelties of war are in supremacy. Except for a few soldiers and officers moving up and down in the Bois, that splendid park is quite deserted. The famous cafés, such as Madrid and Armoneville, have closed their doors. It is hard to imagine that these restaurants were visited by no less than five thousand people during an afternoon of the races. Less than two months ago, the great markets of Paris were crowded with country people hurrying in with their carts, horses and mules. In a short time they had distributed their splendid supply of meats, vegetables, fruits, flowers and small merchandise without and within. By seven o'clock the place was crowded with women of all social classes and wealth. Now the great crowds have dwindled, for the markets only display the barest necessities and the women only come and buy as they actually need them. It is said that thousands of women have been thrown out of employment, for more than sixty per cent. of the women in Paris were working women. No sooner had war been declared than most of the small shops closed their doors and this threw hundreds of women out of work. A few of the leading dressmaking establishments carried their main business over to London, but they could not give employment to all their people. A few of the large stores kept open for a while, but soon their men were called to the front and so their business did not pay. I wonder what has become of the great numbers of designers and artists who were dependent on foreign purchase for their livelihood? Occasionally a pale, haggard girl passes by, as though she was seeking employment in a designer's studio or in an artist's atelier. But business is at a standstill and there is only employment for a very few out of many.