ouse through which a shell has
passed. The public buildings have, as yet, suffered very slightly. The
dome of the Pantheon, which we presume is used as a mark for the aim of
the Prussian artillerymen, has been hit once. The shell has made a round
hole in the roof, and it burst inside the church. In the Jardin des
Plantes all the glass of the conservatories has been shattered by the
concussion of the air, and the orchids and other tropical plants are
dying. Although war and its horrors are thus brought home to our very
doors, it is even still difficult to realise that great events are
passing around us which history will celebrate in its most solemn and
dignified style. Distance in battles lends grandeur to the view. Had the
charge of Balaclava taken place on Clapham Common, or had our gallant
swordsmen replaced the donkeys on Hampstead Heath, even Tennyson would
have been unable to poetise their exploits. When one sees stuck up in an
omnibus-office that omnibuses "will have to make a circuit from _cause
de bombardement_;" when shells burst in restaurants and maim the
waiters; when the trenches are in tea-gardens; and when one is invited
for a sou to look through a telescope at the enemy firing off their
guns, there is a homely domestic air about the whole thing which is
quite inconsistent with "the pomp and pride of glorious war."

On Friday night there was an abortive sortie at Clamart. Some of the
newspapers say that the troops engaged in it were kept too long waiting,
and that they warmed their feet by stamping, and made so much noise that
the Prussians caught wind of the gathering. Be this as it may, as soon
as they got into Clamart they were received with volleys of musketry,
and withdrew. I am told that the marching battalions of the National
Guard, now in the trenches, are doing their work better than was
expected. The generals in command are satisfied with them, but whether
they will be of any great use for offensive operations, is a question
yet to be solved. The clubs still keep up their outcry for "La Commune,"
which they imagine will prove a panacea for every evil. In the club of
the Rue Arras last night, a speaker went a step still further, and
demanded "the establishment of anarchy as the ruling power." Trochu is
still either attacked, or feebly defended, in the newspapers. The French
are so accustomed to the State doing everything for them, that their
ruler is made responsible for everything which goes wro