times, all thoughts and all tongues ran upon the great event of the
day.

It was certain--quite certain, now--that there was to be war with
Prussia. The newspapers had said so, for some days; but then, bah!
who believes a newspaper? Monsieur le Prefect had published the
news, today; and everyone knows that Monsieur le Prefect is not a
man to say a thing, unless it were true. Most likely the Emperor,
himself, had written to him. Oh! There could be no doubt about it,
now.

It was singular to hear, amidst all the talk, that the speculation
and argument turned but little upon the chances of the war, itself;
it being tacitly assumed to be a matter of course that the Germans
would be defeated, with ease, by the French. The great subject of
speculation was upon the points which directly affected the
speakers. Would the Mobiles be called out, and forced to march;
would soldiers who had served their time be recalled to the
service, even if they were married; and would next year's
conscripts be called out, at once? These were the questions which
everyone asked, but no one could answer. In another day or two, it
was probable that the orders respecting these matters would arrive
and, in the meantime, the merry Burgundian girls endeavored to hide
their own uneasiness by laughingly predicting an early summons to
arms to the young men of their acquaintance.

At the Lycee--or great school--the boys are just coming out. They
are too excited to attend to lessons, and have been released hours
before their usual time. They troop out from the great doors,
talking and gesticulating. Their excitement, however, takes a
different form to that which that of English boys would do, under
the same circumstances. There was no shouting, no pushing, no
practical jokes. The French boy does not play; at least, he does
not play roughly. When young he does, indeed, sometimes play at
buchon--a game something similar to the game of buttons, as played
by English street boys. He may occasionally play at marbles but,
after twelve years of age, he puts aside games as beneath him.
Prisoners' base, football, and cricket are alike unknown to him;
and he considers any exertion which would disarrange his hair, or
his shirt collar, as barbarous and absurd. His amusements are
walking in the public promenade, talking politics with the gravity
of a man of sixty, and discussing the local news and gossip.

This is the general type of French school boy. Of course,