Another day that we shall be glad we saw when it is written into the narrative history of this Summer by some future Mme. Sevigne, was when the first German flag arrived.  Before it came, two soldiers exhibited a German frontier post in front of a cafe on the boulevard, which started the excitement, but the reception of the flag by the Government and its placement in the Invalides, where is Napoleon’s tomb, was an hour of dramatic tenseness.

The only music heard in Paris since the first day of August, the day of mobilization, accompanied this flag to its resting place along with those historic relics of former French victories.  The procession went over the Alexander Bridge, that superb structure dedicated in honor of the Russian Czar, whose son is now fulfilling his pledge of friendship to France.  The flag was met at the Invalides by the old soldiers who bore medals of the Franco-Prussian war.  In the solemn inclosure, where all stood at salute, the veterans stood with lances.  The flag was presented to an old sick soldier, who stumped forward on a wooden leg, his breast covered with the medals of the Crimea and the Italian campaign.  He received it for France, and when it was placed over the organ, the listening crowds that jammed the Place des Invalides heard the singing of the “Marseillaise” by the cracked old voices first, then by the sturdier younger voices, and so it joined in, this vast concourse of solemn listeners.

France has gone into this war with the spirit of the Crusaders, but the spirit of French wit cannot be repressed even under the most terrifying conditions.  So after the news of the superhuman effort made by that national baby, Belgium, in detaining the huge German forces for many days, there was a placard on one of the gates at the station, placed there by some gay refugee, saying that a train de luxe would leave for Berlin the next day.

It tickled the sensibilities of travelers very much, and it gave rise to the sale of postcards by an enterprising soul.  These cards gave one the right, so they said, of a daily train to Berlin to visit the tomb of Guillame.  They were bought by the thousands as souvenirs of the war and as one of the few things that caused a smile in this saddened city.

Another incident that amused the people was the remark of a young soldier who had single-handed taken some German prisoners, and who, when asked whether he had done it by the revolver or the bayonet, answered that he had only held out a slice of bread and butter and the Germans had followed him.

Amusement and irritation followed the order that all telephoning must be done in French.  The sensation produced depended on the temperament of the person.  Certainly queer things were said over the lines, and no one could blame the “Allo girl” for laughing.  The majority of Americans took it in good part by saying that it was a French lesson for five cents.