isabler were instant moderately swift
retreat! The Filles-Saint-Thomas retreat, back foremost; then, alas,
face foremost, at treble-quick time; the Marseillese, according to
a Deponent, "clearing the fences and ditches after them like lions:
Messieurs, it was an imposing spectacle."

Thus they retreat, the Marseillese following. Swift and swifter, towards
the Tuileries: where the Drawbridge receives the bulk of the fugitives;
and, then suddenly drawn up, saves them; or else the green mud of the
Ditch does it. The bulk of them; not all; ah, no! Moreau de Saint-Mery
for example, being too fat, could not fly fast; he got a stroke,
flat-stroke only, over the shoulder-blades, and fell prone;--and
disappears there from the History of the Revolution. Cuts also there
were, pricks in the posterior fleshy parts; much rending of skirts,
and other discrepant waste. But poor Sub-lieutenant Duhamel, innocent
Change-broker, what a lot for him! He turned on his pursuer, or
pursuers, with a pistol; he fired and missed; drew a second pistol,
and again fired and missed; then ran: unhappily in vain. In the Rue
Saint-Florentin, they clutched him; thrust him through, in red rage:
that was the end of the New Era, and of all Eras, to poor Duhamel.

Pacific readers can fancy what sort of grace-before-meat this was to
frugal Patriotism. Also how the Battalion of the Filles-Saint-Thomas
'drew out in arms,' luckily without further result; how there was
accusation at the Bar of the Assembly, and counter-accusation and
defence; Marseillese challenging the sentence of free jury court,--which
never got to a decision. We ask rather, What the upshot of all these
distracted wildly accumulating things may, by probability, be? Some
upshot; and the time draws nigh! Busy are Central Committees, of Federes
at the Jacobins Church, of Sections at the Townhall; Reunion of Carra,
Camille and Company at the Golden Sun. Busy: like submarine deities, or
call them mud-gods, working there in the deep murk of waters: till the
thing be ready.

And how your National Assembly, like a ship waterlogged, helmless,
lies tumbling; the Galleries, of shrill Women, of Federes with sabres,
bellowing down on it, not unfrightful;--and waits where the waves
of chance may please to strand it; suspicious, nay on the Left side,
conscious, what submarine Explosion is meanwhile a-charging! Petition
for King's Forfeiture rises often there: Petition from Paris Section,
from Provincial Pa