their force for a fresh struggle by night signals to their confederates all over Paris.

June 28. The Insurrection appears to be now entirely suppressed.

The day being fine, I walk out to various parts of Paris to view the scenes of havoc and slaughter. I go to Port St. Denis, Port St. Martin, to the long street St. Antoine, through which I walk, and through parts of other streets, not omitting Rue de Charenton, Rue St. Jacques, and so onward to the Sorbonne and Pantheon. My son, Madison Rush, Lieutenant in the United States Navy, who is with us on leave of absence from his ship, is the companion of my walk. We see where the numerous barricades were raised, defended and overthrown. Crowds of persons are moving along the same streets, with the same object as ourselves. Too plain to all are the traces of the sanguinary fight. Houses shattered by cannon-balls; many, many more, so many that they could not easily be counted, riddled through all the woodwork by the musketry of the troops and National Guard. were only left to imagine those fierce hand-to-hand struggles where so many were killed. The horrors of a battle-field, where the dead, the wounded and the dying are left exposed, we did not see; but it was the battle-field of a dense city, where the slain

We

and wounded were borne off as they fell, replete with horrors less common, but not less frightful.

We also passed along the Boulevards, Place Concorde, and Champs Elysées in parts where, although there was no actual fighting, every thing bespoke the conflict there had been. The siege is still kept up; and those spacious thoroughfares where the gay and fashionable of Paris and Europe throng in their equipages and morning promenades, and along which I passed in my carriage, when all was so silent, in going home from the Foreign Office, the very night before the Insurrection, now look like half-abandoned encampments. Scattered wisps of hay and the litter of cavalry, horses tied to iron palisades, detachments of infantry, their arms stacked, the men lying down on straw, looking jaded, some asleep, after this din of battle,—such is the picture of these streets now.

In the Assembly to-day, General Cavaignac resigned his extraordinary powers. The Assembly passed a vote of thanks to him, and a decree confiding to him the whole Executive power, with authority to appoint the Ministers. These votes went through amidst the loudest cheers and clapping of hands, the members all rising and waving their hats as well as cheering. The General went to the tribune (his appearance producing fresh acclamations), and asked leave to propose that the thanks should include the gallant army and National

Guards, and various general officers who had so devotedly seconded him in his efforts to quell the Insurrection. His proposition was received with another burst of applause.

In the evening sitting, he announced to the Assembly the names he had selected for the new Cabinet, which I need not recapitulate, as changes may occur. Some of the old members, whom the Insurrection found there, are continued. All resigned when the "Executive Committee" ceased to exist by General Cavaignac's investiture with the supreme command.

June 29. Soon after the Assembly met, the President proceeded to read the draft of an address to the French nation, which had been prepared by order of the Chamber. Its first words are, "Frenchmen, anarchy has been overcome! Paris is still standing! Justice shall have its course!" It goes on: "Honor to the courage and patriotism of the National Guards of Paris, and of the departments; to the brave and ever glorious army; to the young and intrepid Garde Mobile; to the pupils of the schools; and to the innumerable volunteers who threw themselves into the breach for the defence of order and liberty." "The attacks of these new barbarians were," it says, "against the civilization of the nineteenth century; in their code, family was but a name, and property spoliation; but

the Republic, the work of God, the living law of humanity, could not perish; they (the Assembly) swear it in the name of France, and by all those noble victims who fell by their fratricidal hands." These are some of the words of the address. It appeals to all Frenchmen to unite in love of their country; to remove the last vestiges of civil discord; "to maintain firmly the conquests of liberty and democracy, and to let nothing induce them to depart from the principles of their Revolution." When the reading was concluded, all the members rose, crying, Vive la République !

At this sitting, the President also read, in the form of a decree, a tribute to the Archbishop of Paris, in these words:

"That the National Assembly regards it as a duty to proclaim the sentiment of religious gratitude and profound affliction which it feels for the devotedness shown by the Archbishop of Paris; and for his death, so heroic, so holy." It was adopted unanimously, amidst evident marks of deep feeling throughout the Assembly.

July 5. A member of the late Government having insinuated in the Assembly, on the breaking out of the Insurrection, that foreign gold had something to do with it, the British Ambassador, in a note to the Minister of Foreign Affairs, protested strongly against any possible application of the

words to his country. Mr. Bastide replied, that the opinion of his Government, as well as his own, was, that Her Majesty the Queen was too just to have taken any part in exciting the frightful events in Paris; and says to Lord Normanby that he would see with the greater pleasure publicity given to this declaration and Lord Normanby's note, as it would be a new proof of the sentiments of reciprocal friendship which animated the two Governments.

July 8. The funeral of the Archbishop of Paris took place yesterday. The concourse was great. Detachments of the military headed the procession. Various religious communities, with the clergy of Paris and its environs, followed. Black banners were carried, on which were inscribed the dying words of the Prelate. The body was borne by National Guards, the face being left uncovered; and six bishops were pall-bearers. Members of the National Assembly, headed by their President, attended, and deputations from various bodies of the State. The service was performed at the Cathedral, and is said, with the mournful music, to have been very touching.

Having mentioned the principal events of the Insurrection, closing with the sad ceremony just noted, I will succinctly advert to some of its causes and possible consequences, as my impressions of