ed
very well, and did not steal anything. I remember that there was a great
pile of plate and jewellery soon laid by the door.

I went into the throne-room. There was a great silver inkstand on the
table, paper and pens, and we wrote, "Respect Property!" "Liberty for
Italy and Hungary!" and hung the papers up around the room. I wrote one
or two myself, and _touched_ the inkstand for luck, in case I should ever
write about the event.

It was a great and indeed a very touching and beautiful sight, for all
present were inspired with a feeling like that of men who have passed a
terrible, racking crisis. _Nous avons vaincu_! Yes, we had conquered.
And the Revolution had marched sternly on through years of discontent
unto the year of aggravation, Forty-Eight, when there was thunder all
round in Europe--and after all, France at one desperate bound had again
placed herself in the van! And it was first decided by the taking of the
Tuileries!

Let me dwell an instant on some minor incidents. Many of the insurgents
had been all night without food. The royal dinner was cooking in the
kitchen, and it was droll to see the men helping themselves and walking
off with the chickens and joints on their bayonets. I had never seen a
royal kitchen before. Soon all along the street loafers were seen with
jars of preserved cherries, &c., emptying them into their caps. I went
into the burning guard-house. A savage fellow offered me a great tin
pail, containing about two gallons of wine, which he offered me to drink.
I was very thirsty, but I had a scruple against plunder. Grasping his
sword, he cried, "_Buvez_, _citoyen_; _c'est du vin royal_." Not wishing
to have a duel _a l'outrance_ with a fellow-patriot, and, as I said,
being thirsty, I took a good long pull. We mutually winked and smiled.
He took a pull also to my health and Liberty. We both "pulled."

I forgot to mention how my cohort had partially armed themselves that
morning. They burst into every house and carried off all the arms they
could find, and then wrote in chalk over the doors--"_Armes donnees_."
The Musee Cluny was very near my hotel and I saw it plundered. Such a
sight! I saw one vagabond on a fine stolen horse, with a mediaeval
helmet on his head, a lance in his hand, and a six-feet double-handed
sword or flamberg hanging behind his back. He appeared to be quite
drunk, and reared about in eccentric _gambades_. This genius of Freedom
reappeared at