musketry was heard distinctly.  I was told they were fighting principally at Saint James and in the park of Neuilly.  I tried to pass out of the gates with the battalion, but an officer caught sight of me, and in no measured tones ordered me back.  I ought not to complain, however, he rendered me good service; for although the fire of the Versaillais had somewhat diminished, I do not think the place could have been much longer tenable, to judge from the quantities of bits of shell that strewed the road; from the numerous litters that were being borne away with their bloody burthens; from the railway-station in ruins, and the condition of the neighbouring houses, which had nearly all of them great black holes in their fronts.  The Federals did not seem at all impressed by their critical position; sounds of laughter reached me from the interior of a casemate, from the chimney of which smoke was arising, and guards running hither and thither were whistling merrily the Chant du Depart, with a look of complete satisfaction.

[Illustration:  THE ARC DE TRIOMPHE, EAST SIDE (THE FINEST), UNINJURED. Damaged on the other side.  During the Prussian siege it was defended from injury, though no shells reached it.  Uncovered before the civil war.]

I managed to reach the Rue du Debarcadere, which is situated close to the ramparts.  An acquaintance of mine lives there.  I knew he was away, but I thought the porter would recognise and allow me to take up a position at one of the windows.  Next door, the corner house, I found a shell had gone into a wine-merchant’s shop there, who could very well have dispensed with such a visitor, and had behaved in the most unruly fashion, breaking the glass, smashing the tables and counter, but neither killing nor wounding anybody.  The porter knew me quite well, and invited me to walk upstairs to the apartments of my friend, situated on the third floor.  From the windows I could not see the bastion, which was hidden by the station; but to the left, in the distance, beyond the Bois de Boulogne, wherein I fancied I perceived troops moving between the branches, but whether Versaillais or Parisians I could not tell, arose the tremendous Mont Valerien bathed in sunlight.  The flashes from the cannon, which in daylight have a pale silver tint, succeeded each other rapidly; the explosions were formidable, and the fort was crowned with a wreath of smoke.  They appeared to be firing in the direction of Levallois, rather than on the Porte Maillot.  The Federals did not seem to attempt to reply.  Turning myself towards the right I could scan nearly the whole length of the Avenue de Neuilly.  The bare piece of ground which constitutes the military zone was completely deserted; several shells fell there that had been aimed doubtless at the Porte Maillot or the bastion.  The position I had taken up at the window was rather a perilous one.  I was just behind the bastion.  Beyond the military zone most of the houses seemed uninhabited, but I saw distinctly