cannot find that any of them take so bright a view of the position. I have just spoken with a very distinguished foreign officer who has seen the position here and who has been every where to look at the Insurgent side. He tells me that at the batteries outside the city he saw some very good men, but that, taken as a whole, the National Guards within the city are the most miserable lot he ever saw under arms. All the barricades are admirably made as to workmanship, but there is not one of them that could not be taken by troops approaching from streets at angles with the points at which those obstructions are placed. The Place Vendôme is "a rat-trap," and the Insurgent chiefs take good care not to make it their own Head-Quarters. The gallant gentleman to whom I refer believes that if the troops once got inside the enceinte, the insurrection would utterly collapse; but if the military confine themselves to the operations in which they are now engaged it will be a considerable time before Paris gives in. Such is the report of a competent and impartial authority. Rumours of the most contradictory character are rife from morning till night in the open air lobby of the Assembly—the Rue des Réservoirs. Deputies who "ought to know better" circulate very absurd canards; but, as remarks a local print, "Que voulez-vous? On s'ennuie, il faut bien passer le temps!" In my last letter of Thursday night I stated that the affair at Moulin Saquet was a repetition of that at the Clamart Station. I find to-day a contradiction of the statement that insurgents were butchered at Moulin Saquet. It is true, nevertheless. The Commune, wishing, no doubt, to keep the whole truth from their followers fearing its disheartening effect, state enough for their purpose, which is to represent the Versailles Government as assassins. It says that 15 of the National Guards were killed with knives. The fact is as I stated it. The redoubt was taken by surprise, and the soldiers gave no quarter. The number I gave as that of the wretched men killed by the bayonet was 450. I was under the mark. In his report of the affair General Cissey says,—"Two hundred insurgents were left dead on the spot. We have taken many insurgent officers and 300 prisoners and cannon." The Commune alleges that the redoubt fell into the hands of the Versailles troops by means of treason. In this instance I dare say the cry of "Nous sommes trahis!" is not far from the truth. The unfortunate garrison were asleep when the troops entered, the sentinels having, as is alleged, fled, when they found the enemy was upon them. There were 800 men in the redoubt, and before they could prepare any effective resistance the massacre was effected. Now, after all this slaughter and capture of prisoners and guns, Moulin Saquet is again in the hands of the Insurgents. The Commune boasts that the National Guards attacked it with much dash, and re-took it from the troops of Versailles. The fact is these troops found the place too hot for them, and were obliged to abandon it. It is exposed to the fire of Bicêtre, Ivry, and Hautes Bruyères. Was it worth while for the sake of eight cannon to commit such a terrific slaughter? Most of the prisoners taken on the occasion declare that they had been forced to serve, and that they had been sent to Moulin Saquet as a punishment for their having refused to march on Neuilly. Among the captives is an interesting looking young woman, in the uniform of a cantinière. Poor thing, she is wounded and in hospital. Her story is that some months ago she became the wife of a young man, who after the breaking out of the Civil War was forced to serve in the ranks of the Insurgents. For eight days she was without any tidings of him, and in her despair she adopted the uniform in which she was wounded and captured, in order that she might visit all the outposts in search of her husband. She had not succeeded in finding him, and she does not know whether he is living. Had she been successful she would have died by his side rather than have been separated from him again. I am happy to say that the wound of this heroine is only slight, and that everything is being done to promote her recovery.

If the Insurgents have not actually re-taken the Clamart Station, the scene of the other slaughter, they have established themselves very close to it, in a cutting which forms a communication between the Station and a barricade on the line of railway. As the Station is under fire from Fort Vanves I have no doubt that the military found it impossible to hold it, and that if not now in it the Insurgents may re-occupy it whenever they like. Again, there was much boasting about the taking of the Château of Issy. We were told that it was an admirable position, completely screened from the insurgent fire, and affording an excellent vantage ground for riflemen. I saw it on fire yesterday. The Insurgents succeeded in making their shells reach it and making it very much too hot for the Chasseurs. The truth is the Insurgents have been doing the Versaillais quite as much damage as the latter have been inflicting on them. The fire from the batteries at and about the Point du Jour has been excellent. There must be artillerists there quite as good as any on this side. The manner in which the ruins of Fort Issy have been defended is surprising. There is not a roof or a window frame in one of its barracks, but from the embrasures in the earthworks the fire is still kept up from one or two points. To take it by assault would be a matter of no difficulty, but General Faron believes that it is mined, and even in its crippled position he won't venture to attack it at close quarters. With the exception of bayoneting some 500 poor wretches who could not defend themselves, taking a few hundred prisoners who are rather an embarrassment to them, and capturing a few cannon which they don't themselves want and which the Insurgents can easily replace, the Government has done nothing this week. In the words of the old peasant woman, C'est toujours la même répétition.

may 7^th.

In consequence of a large placard posted over the walls of Paris this morning I passed through the gate of the private garden of the Tuileries, and made my way, in company with a crowd of citizens of all classes, through the apartments occupied but a few months ago by the ex-Emperor and Empress. The printed invitation announced that we might see the rooms in which the "tyrant" had lived, for the modest sum of 50c., but that, should we think proper to take tickets for the concert, "whereby these saloons might be at length rendered useful to the people," we should be permitted to enjoy the extra show gratis. I took a ticket, and joined myself to a thick stream of people who belonged to every nationality and rank of life, and whose remarks and criticisms were most edifying. There were shopkeepers and their wives, only too delighted to take advantage of the mildest dissipation; gentlemen whose National Guard trousers were rendered respectable by the gray jacket or blouse of a citizen; humdrum housewives who approved everything, and gaped their admiration of so much gorgeous wall-colouring; there were flaunting ladies in bonnets of the latest fashion and marvellous petticoats, who criticized the curtains and pointed the parasol of scorn at faded draperies; people who felt the heavy hand of the spectre of departed glory, and people who exulted at beholding the hidden recesses of an Imperial mansion laid bare to the jokes and ribaldry of Belleville and La Villette. Every class of Parisian society was represented in the throng that swayed and hustled through the rooms, but the saddest sight of all was a knot or two of decrepit veterans from the Invalides who leant against the balustrade of the grand staircase, and gazed with pinched-up lips and dry eyes at the National Guards on duty, lounging and carousing down below. The stairs were littered with bedding and cooking utensils, shirts and stockings hanging to dry over the gilt railings, while