ed the noblest trophy belonging to the capital;
and there was not a Parisian vender of a pail-full of water who did not
look like a hero when the Venetian horses were spoken of.

"'Have you heard what has been determined about the horses?' was every
foreigner's question. 'Oh! they cannot mean to take the horses away,'
was every Frenchman's answer. On the morning of Thursday, the 26th of
September, 1815, however it was whispered that they had been at work all
night in loosening them from their fastening. It was soon confirmed
that this was true--and the French then had nothing left for it, but to
vow, that if the allies were to attempt to touch them in the _daylight_,
Paris would rise at once, exterminate its enemies, and rescue its honor.
On Friday morning I walked through the square; it was clear that some
considerable change had taken place; the forms of the horses appeared
finer than I had ever before witnessed. When looking to discover what
had been done, a private of the British staff corps came up, 'You see,
sir, we took away the harness last night,' said he. 'You have made a
great improvement by so doing,' I replied; 'but are the British employed
on this work?' The man said that the Austrians had requested the
assistance of our staff corps, for it included better workmen than any
they had in their service. I heard that an angry French mob had given
some trouble to the people employed on the Thursday night, but that a
body of Parisian gendarmerie had dispersed the assemblage. The Frenchmen
continued their sneers against the allies for working in the dark: fear
and shame were the causes assigned. 'If you take them at all, why not
take them in the face of day? But you are too wise to drag upon
yourselves the irresistible popular fury, which such a sight would
excite against you!'

"On the night of Friday, the order of proceeding was entirely changed.
It had been found proper to call out a strong guard of Austrians, horse
and foot. The mob had been charged by the cavalry, and it was said that
several had their limbs broken. I expected to find the place on Saturday
morning quiet and open as usual; but when I reached its entrance, what
an impressive scene presented itself! The delicate plan--for such in
truth it was--of working by night, was now over. The Austrians had
wished to spare the feelings of the king the pain of seeing his capital
dismantled before his palace windows, where he passed in his carriage
when he w