barkation.--A sad farewell.

Night came, the night of the 28th of July, 1830. The royal troops,
having really accomplished nothing of any moment in their conflict
with the insurgent people, were ordered to avail themselves of the
darkness to retreat from all the positions they had gained. Thus,
before midnight the troops, virtually defeated, sought refuge in
concentrating themselves in their fortified camp at the Carrousel. It
was with no little difficulty that some of them fought their way back
to regain the quarters which they had left.

Two parties must ever co-operate in such scenes as we are now
describing. There must be not only bold men, with arms in their
hands, to achieve, but there must be sagacious men in council to plan
and direct. During the day a sort of provisional government was
established by the insurgents, which continued in session until
midnight. The voices of the street cannon had summoned Lafayette to
Paris, and he consecrated his world-wide renown to the cause of
popular rights, for which he had fought in America, and to which he
had been ever true in Europe. M. Lafitte, the wealthiest banker in
Paris, consecrated his fortune to the cause. M. Thiers, never prone
to follow any lead but that of his own vigorous mind, though he had
united with other journalists in recommending resistance, now
objected to any resort to violence, and demanded that the resistance
should be legal only. Being outvoted by his more practical
compeers--Lafayette, Lafitte, and Mauguin--he retired in displeasure,
and, abandoning the conflict, took refuge in the country at some
distance from Paris. To his remonstrances Lafayette replied in
language which one would deem convincing to every mind:

"Legal means have been cut short by the ordinances in the _Moniteur_,
and the discharges of artillery you hear in the streets. Victory can
alone now decide the question."

There was but little sleep for any one in Paris that night. A
population of a million and a half of people, crowded in narrow
streets, was in a state of the wildest excitement. The air was filled
with rumors of the approaching forces of the monarchy. The tramp of
armed men, the rumbling of the ponderous enginery of war, the clamor
of workmen throwing up barricades, the shouts of the mob, and often,
rising above all, the soul-stirring strains of the "Marseillaise
Hymn," pealed forth from thousands of impassioned lips, together with
the darkness of the night, th