n running the blockade much easier than we had
anticipated. Once in the waiting-room, we seated ourselves upon our
bags, for every chair had been taken hours before, and waited for the
twelve o'clock train. We sat patiently for an hour, and were then
informed it would not start until six, for what reason we could not
learn; for French officials can never be induced to give you any
information.

At the close of another hour, we were not only white with alarm,
supposing the Prussians were at the city gates, but were also in a
starving condition, having eaten nothing since our eight o'clock
breakfast of chocolate and rolls. What to do we did not know; the
doors of the waiting-room were closed, and despite the shrieks and
frantic kicks of the terrified and penned-up passengers, no egress was
permitted. Finally, our party of five helpless women decided to appeal
to Mr. Cowdin, feeling confident that he would devise some means to
relieve our forlorn condition. A piteous note was accordingly written,
informing him that we should be prisoners until six o'clock, and
appealing to his American chivalry to come and share our confinement
with us, and to fetch some bread and butter, of which we stood sorely
in need.

Among the employees of the station a messenger was found, and in less
than an hour Mr. Cowdin's friendly face was seen, as he made his way
through the crowd, followed by the invaluable Harry with a basket. An
impromptu table-cloth, consisting of newspapers, was spread upon the
floor, and we gathered about our feast, the other passengers meantime
eying us hungrily, as roast chicken, Bordeaux, and a four-pound loaf
appeared from the basket.

That was my last meal in Paris, and although the circumstances appeared
very amusing as we talked them over with Mr. Cowdin yesterday, they
were anything but entertaining at that time, expecting momentarily as
we did that a shell would explode among us.

_August 31_.

I have just returned from a walk to the station to meet our friend,
Mrs. George Gilman, whom we expected would spend the day with us, but
found instead a note from her saying that ill-health would prevent her
from visiting us at present.

Mrs. Gilman is a dear friend of ours, and a charming and accomplished
woman. Her elegant drawing-rooms upon Lexington Avenue are a resort
for not only the fashionable world, but a favorite rendezvous for the
principal vocalists and pianists of the city, for Mrs. Gilman i