troduced at the last
moment from the neighbouring departments. It gives the following
calculation of our resources--flour three weeks, corn three months, salt
meat fifteen days, horse two months. The mistake of all these
calculations seems to be that they do not take into account the fact
that more bread or more corn will be eaten when they become the sole
means of providing for the population. Thus the daily return of flour
sold in Paris is about one-third above the average. The reason is
simple, and yet it seems to occur to no one. French people, more
particularly the poorer classes, can exist upon much less than
Englishmen; but the prospect for any one blessed with a good appetite is
by no means reassuring. In the Rue Blanche there is a butcher who sells
dogs, cats, and rats. He has many customers, but it is amusing to see
them sneak into the shop after carefully looking round to make sure that
none of their acquaintances are near. A prejudice has arisen against
rats, because the doctors say that their flesh is full of trichinae. I
own for my part I have a guilty feeling when I eat dog, the friend of
man. I had a slice of a spaniel the other day, it was by no means bad,
something like lamb, but I felt like a cannibal. Epicures in dog flesh
tell me that poodle is by far the best, and recommend me to avoid bull
dog, which is coarse and tasteless. I really think that dogs have some
means of communicating with each other, and have discovered that their
old friends want to devour them. The humblest of street curs growls when
anyone looks at him. _Figaro_ has a story that a man was followed for a
mile by a party of dogs barking fiercely at his heels. He could not
understand to what their attentions were due, until he remembered that
he had eaten a rat for his breakfast. The friend of another journalist,
who ate a dog called Fox, says that whenever anyone calls out "Fox" he
feels an irresistible impulse which forces him to jump up. As every
Christmas a number of books are published containing stories about dogs
as remarkable as they are stale, I recommend to their authors these two
veracious tales. Their veracity is guaranteed by Parisian journalists.
Can better evidence be required?

We are already discussing who will be sent to Germany. We suppose that
the army and the Mobiles, and perhaps the officers of the National
Guard will have to make the journey. One thing, I do hope that the
Prussians will convey across the Rhine