sent over from time to time; the stern determination of the Emperor, the hopes and fears of the Empress, and the precocious prescience of the Imperial Prince. So at least they tell you, and it is your own fault if you do not gain at least amusement from their information. The same men will inform you of wonderful things about the Prussian spy system, and delight to assure you, with the air of an oracle, that organization has done it all-the French have no organization, and never had.' The journals are of course responsible for cramming their readers with these vague generalities.

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To hear continental opinion in London you must go to the neighbourhood of Leicester Square and Soho. There are restaurants, especially in Soho, frequented almost exclusively by Germans-and Prussians more especially-where the talk, the tears, and the general enthusiasm, are unbounded; the convives embrace one another with fervour Vaterland' is on every lip-and bursts of song are heard occasionally, particularly the one in which France is warned that she shall not have the German Rhine. These scenes were more pronounced at the first outbreak of the war, since which large numbers of Germans have left London for the army. The French are more mixed, principally with Italians and Poles; but you may be sure that the discussion of the war does not lose with them for want of words. If Karl and Otto can sentimentalize, depend upon it that Jules and Gustave can declaim. They grow more fierce with every fresh reverse; and the greater the losses the more confident are they of the glorious day that is coming for France. The Emperor has fared among the Republicans of Leicester Square much as he has fared among the Republicans on the Boulevards. When he was supposed to be leading the army to victory they gave him at least outward toleration. Now-well, we know how a Frenchman of extreme opinions can talk when he wishes to say uncomplimentary things of persons in high places, and has no dread of interference by the police!

When a Frenchman and a Prus

sian meet in a café or the street, there usually comes a tug of war, throwing the proverbial meeting between Greek and Greek completely in the shade. The war, indeed, is said to have broken out in England before a shot was fired in France. Just after the news of the declaration, it was reported at the time, two clerks-a Frenchman and a German-fell to words, which developed into blows, and had a good set fight with rulers; the German, if I remember rightly, getting the mastery, and shutting up his opponent in a cupboard. Only a few days ago I was a witness to an encounter between two of these conflicting elements of society. They bullied and cuffed one another all the way down Southampton Street, Strand, and were separated in that thoroughfare only by having to go in different directions. But they paid compliments at parting highly suggestive of the animated character of their next meeting.

But

The French and Prussians in England are naturally not so demonstrative against the English as their countrymen at home. representatives of the two nations of a very different class from the frequenters of Leicester Square will each speak of England in sorrow if not in anger, and profess to feel injured at her hands. That France should be disappointed at the inaction of her ally is comprehensible enough; but it is difficult to see the cause for complaint on the part of Prussia, considering the strong preponderance of the press in her favour. It may be that offending both sides is the natural penalty of neutrality; but the same bitter feeling is not evinced towards the other neutral powers. The cause of Prussia has been especially advocated by the liberal press of England; but the proclamation of the Republic has already had its effect upon the party of the extreme left' in this country, as is evidenced by the popular demonstrations in favour of the new state of things. The sympathies of the public are indeed curiously divided. Prussia, though thoroughly aristocratic in her political system, has hitherto received a large amount of

Liberal support, while the principal Conservative organs in the press have been strong partizans of France. Now that France is separated from the empire and its policy, there will probably be considerable modifications of opinion on both sides; and it may be possible to gauge the real opinions of the nation with some approach to accuracy.

With the commercial influences of the war, in their broad sense, most people are conversant. They are in the main, of course, injurious, and principally beneficial to exceptional speculators. To certain branches of business war must always give an impetus; and one in particular should be in a flourishing condition, if it be true, as reported, that the Prussian authorities have given orders for no less than two hundred thousand wooden legs. A demand of this kind is a horrible realization of the butchery that has been at work, even though the amount may be over-stated.

The war, however, has many minor influences, to judge by the advertisements in the newspapers. Thus we find several persons who are not apparently indisposed to gain a little advantage for themselves from the efforts made in the cause of the sick and wounded. One tradesman makes a very handsome proposal. He prints, it appears, visiting cards at the remarkably low rate of one shilling and sixpence a hundred; and he announces that he is prepared, for every one shilling and sixpence so received, to place threepence in a box which he keeps on his counter for the purpose, the collective threepences to be devoted to the fund for the sick and wounded. He, of course, points out to the public that the more cards they order of him the better will it be for the cause of charity; and he expresses his readiness in that sacred cause to take orders to any extent. I dare say there are many generous persons who would undertake, out of every sovereign sent to them as a present, to devote five shillings to the same noble purpose. Another tradesman advertises that, by way of securing peoples' 'mites' for the sick and

wounded, without giving unnecessary trouble to the donors, he has arranged to send boys into the streets with money-boxes, in which the passers-by may drop their pence -more important coins, of course, not being refused. These boxes will be brought to him daily, emptied, and sent out again; and he pledges himself that the sums so received shall be devoted to the object in view. A British tradesman is, of course, above suspicion; but I should think it very possible that an occasional boy might, in a weak moment, fancy himself sick and wounded, and therefore a proper object for relief; and a little deception might be put upon the public by amateur collectors among the ingenious juveniles of this city. A money-box with a neat inscription would be a cheaper investment than a stock of newspapers or vesuvians, and has the advantage of not wanting renewal.

Only a few days after the news of the battle of Wörth, a man with only one arm was found begging in the streets of London, and seeking sympathy on the ground that he had lost the limb in that disastrous engagement. Some sagacious persons calculated that he must have been wonderfully expeditious in recovering from his loss and getting over to England to tell the tale; the result being that he was taken into custody as an impostor.

A tradesman advertises that he is obliged to sell off his large stock of silks on account of the war.'

A lady advertises that she is 'willing to let her furnished villa during the continuance of the war.'

Another lady announces that having a larger house than she requires, she is willing to receive a single gentleman or a young married couple, with whole or partial board, during the war.'

A gentleman, we are informed elsewhere, 'having, in consequence of the war, no use for a Shetland pony, will be happy to dispose of him a bargain,' &c. &c.

The war, in fact, is made a pretext for-or a means of calling attention to-all kinds of wants and wishes. Some of the demands, however, are

of course genuine, as in the instance of surgical instruments, which are said to be required in Prussia almost as much as doctors. Among other signs of the times are the martial character of children's toys, as seen at a well-known establishment in Regent Street and elsewhere; and games relating to battles-for children of all ages it may be presumed -are also prominently advertised. Some children, however, conduct their contests without arbitrary rules. Two small boys were seen the other day, in the garden of a London square, who were making the popular topic the means of gratifying their private animosities.

I'm French,' said one, giving his companion a buffet in the face; 'I Prussian,' said the other, with a responsive kick on the shins: and so they went on until their governess came up, and in a very practical manner showed that she was a neutral power who would stand no

nonsense.

Not being engaged in the war ourselves, we are spared the infliction and the pain to manyinvolved by the devices of puffing tradesmen when our army was before Sebastopol. It was then no uncommon occurrence for a family to be disturbed after they had gone to bed at night by a loud double knock at the door, followed by the delivery of a large envelope with a printed inscription, Telegram from the seat of war.' The missive, after sending a nervous lady or two into fits, was found to be a circular announcing-not the death of a husband, a son, or a brother, but the fact that, in consequence of the war, Meesrs. Raff and Rowdy were selling ten thousand ladies' bonnets at fifty per cent. under cost price.

over

A sudden change came London just before the closing of the gates of Paris, in anticipation of the siege. The streets of the West-end presented - albeit later than usual-the usual signs of the 'silly season' in their comparatively deserted appearance, as far as loungers were concerned. But

one afternoon Regent Street was found to be as crowded as it would be in May or June; and each day

A

since a similar appearance—more or less has been observed. glance at the additions to the ordinary patrons of the pavement was sufficient to announce an invasion from abroad. There are some Germans, but a great many more French; and both have doubtless come from Paris, where they waited until the last moment, hoping that the dreaded crisis at the capital would be averted. They are generally seen-not in ones or twosbut in whole families together, the younger children being under the care of bonnes. Our new visitors are apparently highly respectable people, of the bourgeois class. The heads of families have probably considered that there are plenty of men left to fight, and that their first duty is to take care of their wives and children and spare them the horrors of the siege.

I here refer to the French; the Germans have of course still better reasons for abandoning Paris at such a time; and they are more fortunate than some of their poorer brethren, who, leaving at the last moment, have not been allowed, it is stated, to bring away their baggage, which has all been left in what is called the charge of the railway authorities.' This cruel prohibition is greatly to be deplored. Scarcely any sum of money could compensate most persons for the loss of the whole of their personal baggage; but the deprivation is the more felt when there is no money with which to make the attempt; and this must be the case with the majority of the unfortunates who are the latest arrivals among us. It is to be hoped, if there really be urgent wants of the kind, that they will not be forgotten by the benevolent.

I believe that the number of foreigners who arrived in England, during the last few days preceding the closing of the gates of Paris, is very great. The majority have probably come to London, where the increased number of strangers is a marked feature in the streets. The Imperial Prince, as everybody knows, went to Hastings, where

he was joined by the Empress. The newspapers have circulated several reports of their removal elsewhere, founded upon the statements of persons who have 'recognized' them in railway carriages. The public imagination seems prepared to meet the wishes of any lady with a thick veil and a delicate-looking boy to be mistaken for the Empress-Regent-which is still the status of the unhappy wife of Napoleon, according to diplomatic etiquette.

If the war has not kept many people in the capital it has prevented large numbers from quitting the country: and all over the three kingdoms London looks for the war news' as eagerly as it did in Pall Mall or the Strand. Everywhere on the English coast, on the moors, in lake-land, far in the Scottish highlands, across the Irish Sea, by Lough Neagh or Killarney, in the Isle of Man-in all parts

of the three kingdoms, from the Orkneys to Penzance-is the 'war news' eagerly demanded, and the keenest interest taken in the fortunes of the combatants. The majority among us have been-as we have seen -somewhat confused in the bestowal of our sympathies; but we have at least one wish in common-the wish for peace. Peace while I write is being recognised as possible even in hitherto irreconcilable Paris. Neutral nations are endeavouring

to teach submission on the one side and forbearance on the other, which shall be compatible with the honour of the losers and the satisfaction of the gainers, in this terrible appeal to arms. If England's hand can be made effective in the work great, will be the satisfaction of all Englishmen; and then perhaps the nation will be spared the reproach which seems at present attached to her of showing partiality to both belligerents. S. L. B.

W. J. J. WARNEFORD.