Monday, September 14th.

Somebody came into possession of a newspaper, the "Figaro" from Paris, dated September 6th. We were delighted to have it loaned us for an hour, greasy and dirty as it was, for in these days a newspaper is the most precious article on earth. It is brought in on a silver tray—then somebody feverishly reads aloud for the benefit of the others, while the servants run out to invite the neighbors to come in and listen. Just as the reader is in the middle of a grand eulogy on glorious victories, etc., an unknown person raps on the door to reclaim the precious journal and we all relapse into a general interchange of impressions, ideas, complaints, inspirations—"They say"; "It appears"; "Why"; "Must"; "Ought"; "Should"; etc. In a German paper we read to-day, they are preparing their men for "slight defeats" by saying that, "The French army is no longer the army of 1870, but one worthy to combat with our own." That was very condescending and was doubtless inspired by the formidable battleline from the coast to Nancy, before their noses.