at the next sortie they will force the Parisians to fight by
putting them in front, and firing on them if they attempt to run away.
It must be remembered that these fighting battalions consist of young
unmarried men, and if Paris is to be defended, there is no reason why
they should not be exposed to danger. The inhabitants of this city seem
to consider themselves a sacred race; they clamour for sorties, vow to
die for their country, and then wish to do it by procuration. I am
utterly disgusted with the difference between their words and their
deeds. The Mobiles and the Line have as yet done all the righting, and
yet, to read the Paris newspapers, one would suppose that the National
Guards, who have kept well out of all danger, have "covered themselves
with glory." Since the siege commenced they have done nothing but
swagger about in uniforms, and go in turns on the ramparts. They have
learnt to knock a penny off a cork at a distance of ten yards, and they
have carried on a very successful campaign against the sparrows.

A fresh order was issued yesterday, suppressing all passes until further
notice. I have a pass _en regle_ from General Vinoy; but even with this,
the last time I went out of the town I was turned back at two gates
before I got through at the third. A good deal of discussion has taken
place among the foreign correspondents respecting the fairness of going
out with an ambulance under guise of the Geneva flag. I see myself no
objection to it, provided the correspondent really does make himself
useful in picking up the wounded. In the Prussian camp a correspondent
has a recognised position; here it is different, and he must use all
legitimate means to obtain intelligence of what is passing. My pass, for
instance, does not describe me as a correspondent, but as an Englishman
accredited by the British Embassy. At the commencement of the siege I
begged Mr. Wodehouse to give me a letter of introduction to M. Jules
Ferry, one of the members of the Government. This I did not deliver, but
at General Vinoy's headquarters I showed it to prove that I was not a
Prussian spy, but that I was known by my natural guardian. An
aide-de-camp then gave me a pass, and, not knowing precisely what to
call me, described me as "accredited by the British Embassy." I move
about, therefore, as a mysterious being--perhaps an Ambassador, perhaps
an Ambassador's valet. A friend of mine, who is an authority with the
Ambulance de la Presse