At Dinner.

It was a bright day for Charenton, that 29th of the month, when the Marseillese Brethren actually came in sight.  Barbaroux, Santerre and Patriots have gone out to meet the grim Wayfarers.  Patriot clasps dusty Patriot to his bosom; there is footwashing and refection:  ’dinner of twelve hundred covers at the Blue Dial, Cadran Bleu;’ and deep interior consultation, that one wots not of. (Deux Amis, viii. 90-101.) Consultation indeed which comes to little; for Santerre, with an open purse, with a loud voice, has almost no head.  Here however we repose this night:  on the morrow is public entry into Paris.

On which public entry the Day-Historians, Diurnalists, or Journalists as they call themselves, have preserved record enough.  How Saint-Antoine male and female, and Paris generally, gave brotherly welcome, with bravo and hand-clapping, in crowded streets; and all passed in the peaceablest manner;—­except it might be our Marseillese pointed out here and there a riband-cockade, and beckoned that it should be snatched away, and exchanged for a wool one; which was done.  How the Mother Society in a body has come as far as the Bastille-ground, to embrace you.  How you then wend onwards, triumphant, to the Townhall, to be embraced by Mayor Petion; to put down your muskets in the Barracks of Nouvelle France, not far off;—­then towards the appointed Tavern in the Champs Elysees to enjoy a frugal Patriot repast. (Hist.  Parl. xvi. 196.  See Barbaroux, p. 51-5.)

Of all which the indignant Tuileries may, by its Tickets of Entry, have warning.  Red Swiss look doubly sharp to their Chateau-Grates;—­though surely there is no danger?  Blue Grenadiers of the Filles-Saint-Thomas Section are on duty there this day:  men of Agio, as we have seen; with stuffed purses, riband-cockades; among whom serves Weber.  A party of these latter, with Captains, with sundry Feuillant Notabilities, Moreau de Saint-Mery of the three thousand orders, and others, have been dining, much more respectably, in a Tavern hard by.  They have dined, and are now drinking Loyal-Patriotic toasts; while the Marseillese, National-Patriotic merely, are about sitting down to their frugal covers of delf.  How it happened remains to this day undemonstrable:  but the external fact is, certain of these Filles-Saint-Thomas Grenadiers do issue from their Tavern; perhaps touched, surely not yet muddled with any liquor they have had;—­issue in the professed intention of testifying to the Marseillese, or to the multitude of Paris Patriots who stroll in these spaces, That they, the Filles-Saint-Thomas men, if well seen into, are not a whit less Patriotic than any other class of men whatever.