nt, or else concealed
their nationality as much as possible by keeping commendably silent.

Nevertheless, the Parisian shopkeeper, who is the most arrant coward on
the face of the earth where a crowd is concerned, put up his shutters
during the whole of Saturday and Sunday, except those who professed for
cater for the inner man. I doubt whether, on the first-named day, there
was a single stroke of work done by the three or four hundred thousand
of Parisian artisans. I exclude cabmen, railway porters, and the like.
They had their hands full, because the exodus began before the war news
was four and twenty hours old. Our own countrymen seemed in the greatest
hurry to put the Channel between themselves and France. If the enemy had
been already at the gates of Paris their retreat could have been
scarcely more sudden. The words "bouches inutiles" had as yet not been
pronounced or invented officially; but I have a notion that a cabman
suggested them first, in a conversation with a brother Jehu. "Voila des
bouches utiles qui s'en vont, mon vieux," he said, while waiting on the
Place Vendome to take passengers to the railway. Until then I had never
heard the word used in that sense.

Apropos of cabmen, I heard a story that day for the truth of which I
will, however, not vouch. There was a cab-stand near the Prussian
Embassy, and most of the drivers knew every one of the attaches, the
latter being frequent customers. On the Saturday morning, a cab was
called from the rank to take a young attache to the eastern railway
station. He was going to join his regiment. On alighting from the cab,
the attache was about to pay his fare; the driver refused the money. "A
man does not pay for his own funeral, monsieur; and you may take it that
I have performed that office for you. Adieu, monsieur." With that he
drove off. True or not, the mere invention of the tale would prove that,
at any rate, the lower middle classes were cocksure of the utter
annihilation of the Germans.

I happened to have occasion to go to the northern station on the Sunday,
to see some one off by the mail. That large, cold, bare hall, which does
duty as a waiting-room, was crowded, and a number of young Germans were
among the passengers; respectable, stalwart fellows who, to judge by
their dress, had occupied good commercial positions in the French
capital. Most of them were accompanied by friends or relations. They
seemed by no means elated at the prospect before th