Paris War Days | Page 5

this critical time.
Among those taking part in wrecking shops were few people older than
seventeen or eighteen.
Already the familiar aspect of the Parisian street crowd has changed. It
is now composed almost exclusively of men either too young or too old
for military service and of women and children. Most of the younger
generation have already left to join corps on the front or elsewhere in
France. It is impossible to spend more than a few minutes in the streets
without witnessing scenes which speak of war.
There are long processions of vehicles of all sorts, market carts,
two-wheeled lorries, furniture vans, all of them stocked with rifles for
the reserves and all of them led or driven by soldiers.
Not a motor-omnibus is to be seen. The taxi-cabs and cabs are scarce.
Tramway-cars are running, although on some lines the service is
reduced considerably. In spite of the disorganization of traffic, the
majority of Parisians go about their business quietly.
There is deep confidence in the national cause. "We did not want this
war, but as Germany has begun we will fight, and Germany will find
that the heart of France is in a war for freedom," is an expression heard
on all sides.
Everywhere there are touching scenes. In the early hours of the
morning a chasseur covered with dust, who had come to bid farewell to
his family, was seen riding through the city. As he rode down the street,
an old woman stopped him and said: "Do your best! They killed my
husband in '70." The young soldier stooped from his saddle and silently
gripped the old woman's hand.

Monday, August 3.
This is the second day of mobilization. A warm, cloudy day with
occasional showers. Thermometer, 20 degrees centigrade.
At six this morning Félicien, with a brown paper parcel containing a
day's rations consisting of cold roast beef, sandwiches, hard-boiled
eggs, bread, butter, and potato salad, walked off to the Gare St. Lazare,
which is his point of rendezvous indicated by the mobilization paper.
His young wife wept as if broken-hearted. Félicien, like all the
reservists, restrained his emotions. I shook him warmly by the hand and
said that I would surely see him again here within six months, and that
he would come home a victor. "Don't be afraid of that, sir!" was his
reply, and away he went.
I watched the looting of the Maggi milk shops near the Place des
Ternes. The marauders were youths from fifteen to eighteen years old,
and seemed to have no idea of the crimes they were committing. The
Maggi is no longer a German enterprise, and the stupid acts of these
young ruffians can only have the effect of depriving French mothers
and infants of much-needed milk. I bought a bicycle to-day at Peugeot's
in the Avenue of the Grande Armée, because it is hopeless to get cabs
or motor-cabs. While there, the shop was requisitioned by an officer,
who took away with him three hundred bicycles for the army.
The aspect of the main thoroughfares in the Opéra quarter, the center of
English and American tourist traffic, was depressing in the extreme this
afternoon. All the shipping offices in the Rue Scribe closed in the
morning. The Rue de la Paix is never very brilliant in August, but now
it is an abode of desolation. Nine tenths of the shops have their shutters
up and the jewelers who keep open have withdrawn all their stock from
the windows.
Many of the closed shops on the boulevards and elsewhere bear
placards designed to protect them from the possible attentions of the
mob. On these placards are such texts as "Maison Française" or even

"Maison ultrafrançaise."
On the Café de la Paix is the following announcement, in several places:
"The proprietor, André Millon, who is mayor of Evecquemont
(Seine-et-Oise), has been called out for service in the army and left this
morning." Similar messages, written in chalk, are to be seen on
hundreds of shutters.
Steps have been taken at the American Embassy to supply credentials,
in the form of "a paper of nationality," to citizens of the United States,
which will make it possible for them to register as such with the police,
as required by the French Government.
The proposed American Ambulance has been organized under the
official patronage of Ambassador Herrick, and the auspices of the
American Hospital of Paris.
Beginning to-day, all cafés and restaurants will be closed at eight in the
evening. They were left open till nine yesterday as an exceptional
measure, owing to the fact that there was not time to distribute the
order for early closing by eight o'clock.
The aspect of the boulevards last night was the completest possible
contrast to what was seen on Sunday night. The