he sword, which hurt but did not wound. I was as close to
them as I am now to the other side of the table; it was rather
impressive, however. At the second charge they rode on the pavement
and knocked the torches out of the fellows' hands; rather a shame,
too--wouldn't be stood in England...."

[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