The insurgents are throwing up barricades of grass and dried twigs, and are prepared, it is said, to sustain a regular siege. The field they occupy is at least eighteen inches wide by ten inches long.

The most contradictory rumours are spread abroad. Some of the rebels accuse us of indirectly stirring up revolt. “Tyrants of the deepest dye,” said one, “maintain their power by setting their subjects one against the other, so that in their petty strife they may overlook the defects of government.” What can we say of such absurdities. If the rulers of states had nothing to fear save the unity of the people, they would sleep on downy pillows!

It is reported that the disaffected flies are everywhere rousing the nation. One of them the Clarion, a clever musician, has composed a war march entitled, “The Roll Call of the Flies.” We can now hear the tones of this impious music floating over Paris. It is wafted from a thousand instruments at the Pantheon, the Val de Grace, the tour Saint Jacques la Boucherie, the Salpîtrière, the Père Lachaise, where the emissaries have been stationed by the leaders of the movement.

A number of prisoners have been arrested, but they refuse to disclose their principles.

EXAMINING THE FLY’S HEAD.

“We are of snow-white pur­i­ty!” say they. “Why should such in­no­cents be ar­rested? Take our heads!”

“Your heads! what can we do with a fly’s head? Never­the­less we will con­sid­er this pro­po­si­tion.”

The pretensions of the rebels are now known, “the com­mon good” serves them as a pre­text for per­son­al am­bi­tion and priv­ate hat­red. Rev­o­lu­tion means nothing more than the relinquishing of our posts to others who are not so well qualified to fill them. If we refuse to yield to their demands—as we intend to do—we are doomed, so they say. Our posts and emoluments will be sold with our lives! We owe this as a tribute to the animal kingdom.