of women rushing along the Boulevards, singing their barbarous revolutionary songs; some even brandishing knives and carrying pikes, and all frantic against the fete.  As I passed down the Rue St Honore, I stopped to listen to the harangue of a half-naked ruffian, who had made a rostrum of the shoulders of two of the porters of the Halle, and, from this moving tribune, harangued the multitude as he went along.  Every falsehood, calumny, and abomination that could come from the lips of man, were poured out by the wretch before me.  The sounds of ’Vive Marat!’ told me his name.  I afterwards heard that he lived on the profits of a low journal, in a cellar, with a gang of wretches constantly drunk, and thus was only the fitter for the rabble.  He told them that there was a conspiracy on foot to massacre the patriots of Paris; that the troops from the provinces were coming, by order of the king, to put man, woman, and child to the sword; that the fete at Marseilles was given to the vanguard of the army to pledge them to this terrible purpose; that the governors of the provinces were all in the league of blood; and that the bakers of Paris had received an order from Versailles to put poison in all their loaves within the next twenty-four hours.  ‘Frenchmen,’ exclaimed this livid villain, tearing his hair, and howling with the wildness of a demoniac, ’do you love your wives and children?  Will you suffer them to die in agonies before your eyes?  Wait, and you will have nothing to do but dig their graves.  Advance, and you will have nothing to do but drive the tyrant, with his horde of priests and nobles, into the Seine.  Pause, and you are massacred.  Arm, and you are invincible.’  He was answered by shouts of vengeance.

“I remained that night at the headquarters of the staff of Paris, the Hotel de Ville.  I was awakened before daybreak by the sound of a drum; and, on opening my eyes, was startled by lights flashing across the ceiling of the room where I slept.  Shots followed; and it was evident that there was a conflict in the streets.  I buckled on my sabre hastily, and, taking my pistols, went to join the staff.  I found them in the balcony in front of the building, maintaining a feeble fire against the multitude.  The night was dark as pitch, cold and stormy, and except for the sparkle of the muskets from below, and the blaze of the torches in the hands of our assailants, we could scarcely have conjectured by whom we were attacked.  This continued until daylight; when we at last got sight of our enemy.  Never was there a more tremendous view.  Every avenue to the Place de Greve seemed pouring in its thousands and tens of thousands.  Pikes, bayonets on poles, and rusty muskets, filled the eye as far as it could reach.  Flags, with all kinds of atrocious inscriptions against the king and queen, were waving in the blast; drums, horns, and every uncouth noise of the raging million filled the air.  And in front of this innumerable mass pressed on a column of desperadoes, headed by a woman, or a man disguised as a woman, beating a drum, and crying out, in the intervals of every roar, ‘Bread, bread!’