for my husband, who is gone
to vote."

A child, who is skipping, cries out, "Mama, mama, what is the Commune?"

The fiacre drivers make the revolution an excuse for asking extravagant
fares; this does not prevent their having very decided political
opinions. One who, drove one would scarcely have been approved of by the
Central Committee.--"_Cocher_, what is the fare?" I ask.--"Five francs,
monsieur."--"All right; take me to the mairie Place Saint-Sulpice."
--"Beg pardon, monsieur, but if you are going to vote, it will be
ten francs!"

On the Boulevard de Strasbourg there are streams of people dressed in
holiday attire; itinerant dealers in tops, pamphlets, souvenirs of the
siege--bits of black bread, made on purpose, and framed and glazed, also
bits of shells--and scented soap, and coloured pictures; crowds of
beggars everywhere. In this part of the town the revolution looks very
much like a fair.

At the mairie of the 6th Arrondissement there are very few people. I
enter into conversation with one of the officials there. He tells me he
has never seen voting carried on with greater spirit.

I meet a friend who has just returned from Belleville, and ask him the
news, of course.--"The voting is progressing in capital order," he tells
me; "the men go up to the poll as they would mount the breach. They have
no choice but to obey blindly."--"The Central Committee?" I
inquire.--"Yes, but the Committee itself only obeys orders."
--"Whose?"--"Why those of the International, of course."

At a corner near the boulevards, a compact little knot of people is
stationed in front of a poster. I fancy they are studying the
proclamation of one of the candidates, but it turns out only to be a
play-bill. The crowd continues to thicken; the cafes are crammed; gold
chignons are plentiful enough at every table; here and there a red
Garibaldi shirt is visible, like poppies amongst the corn. Every now and
then a horseman gallops wildly past with dispatches from one section to
another. The results of some of the elections are creeping out. At
Montrouge, Bercy, Batignolles, and the Marais, they tell us the members
of the Central Committee are elected by a very large majority. Here the
hoarse voice of a boy strikes in,--"Buy the account of the grand
conspiracy of Citoyen Thiers against the Republic!" Then another chimes
in with wares of a less political and more vulgar nature. The movement
to and fro and the excitement is extraordinary. W