ressed
into the service as burying parties, and the English Embassy has
received complaints from Englishmen of having been seized for this
purpose. The smell of corpses in some places is offensively strong, and
it is feared this hot weather following upon the heavy rain may breed a
pestilence.

Traffic in the streets at night is getting easier, though the _cafes_
have to be closed at 11. The unpopularity of the troops is no doubt, in
part due to the deeply-rooted Parisian dislike of military rule and the
abolition of the National Guard--a measure which, however necessary,
under no circumstances is likely to be welcome.

The firemen of Havre who came to Paris to aid in extinguishing the
recent conflagrations have returned home to-day.

One of the most important of the "hostages" who suffered death at the
hands of the Commune--the most important person of their lay victims--M.
Bonjean, was President of the Court of Cassation, and it was only the
fact of his holding a high position, and being respected by all persons
whose respect was worth having, that can have rendered him odious. He
was a very old man, as old at least as the Abbe Deguerry. It was chiefly
as a Judge and not as a politician that his name was known to the world,
yet, all that was known of him as a politician was in his favour.
Indeed, he enjoyed the rare distinction of being, perhaps, the one
Liberal member of an Assembly so bigoted and so subservient as was the
Senate under the Empire. Notwithstanding his advanced age, he remained
firm at his post during the siege and during the far more perilous
period of the conflict between M. Thiers and the Comite Central. His
arrest was, so to speak, an accident, as he happened to be paying, or
expected to pay, a visit, by appointment, to the house of his friend,
the Procureur-general, when the police of the Communists were taking
possession of the house of the latter officer. He bore his imprisonment,
old as he was, with patience and resignation, remarking that for the
last 40 years he had been self-condemned to upwards of 12 hours' hard
labour a day over his books and papers, and that he could work as well
at these in a prison cell as in a palace.

JUNE 2d, AND 3rd.

Two days ago I was so fortunate as to meet Mons. Petit, the Secretary of
the late Archbishop, who had only escaped from the prison in which he
had been confined with the unfortunate Prelate the day before. M. Petit
did not himself see M. Darboy e