Tuesday, the 22nd of February, the birthday of the immortal Washington and the first of the Three Days of the French Revolution of 1848, broke darkly and gloomily on Paris. The night had been tempestuous, and the wind still drove the sleet through the leafless trees of the Champs-ElysÉes and howled drearily along the cheerless boulevards.

The streets were dismal, desolate and deserted. Here and there, however, through the gray light of the winter dawn, could be caught the semblance of a figure closely muffled, whether for concealment, disguise, or protection from the biting blast was doubtful, stealing along; these figures often met and exchanged ominous signs of recognition.

"Is the procession still to take place?" asked one of another of these persons, pausing for an instant as they hurried along.

"Yes!" was the emphatic answer. "Dupont, Lamartine and the sixteen others who are faithful are resolute."

"And the rendezvous?"

"Is the Place de La Concorde."

"And the hour?"

"Twelve."

Whereupon the conspirators parted.

Gradually the number of persons in the streets increased as the morning advanced. Chiefly, these were artisans, lads, blouses and workmen.

"Whither so early this disagreeable morning?" cried a peaceable-looking shopman of the Rue de Rivoli, who was taking down his shutters for the day, to a friend who was hurrying by.

"I don't exactly know where I am going," was the reply. "We were all roused at daybreak in the Quartier St. HonorÉ by the rappel, and so I happen to be awake."

"And are the National Guard turning out in good numbers?"

"No. They don't turn out at all. The drummers are followed by a crowd of gamins in blouses, who shout Vive la RÉforme and sing the Marseillaise."

"The National Guard don't turn out!" cried the alarmed shopman; "then I'll not take down my shutters!"

And as his friend moved on to the Madeleine, he took the precautionary measure he had spoken of.

At nine o'clock troops were in motion all over Paris, and the roll of the drum was heard in every street.

At ten o'clock ten thousand men were assembled at the Madeleine.

"Is there to be a banquet?" asked one of another, as they met on the Rue Royale.

"No. It is a procession. The people are to march to the Chamber of Deputies and sing the Marseillaise."

All the avenues to the Palais Bourbon and part of the Place around the Madeleine were now occupied by the 21st Regiment of the Line and mounted Municipal Guards. Before the Chamber of Deputies was marshaled a squadron of dragoons, and a battalion of the 69th Regiment of Cuirassiers stood ready to charge on the throng.

At eleven o'clock two thousand students in blouses from the Parthenon were joined by an immense column of workmen from the faubourgs, and, having fraternized in the Place de la Concorde, advanced in perfect order in procession, led by National Guards, shouting the Marseillaise and the Hymn of the Girondins. Slowly and solemnly moved the vast mass up the Rue Royale to the Pont de la Concorde, leading to the Place of the Chamber of Deputies.

At twelve o'clock the vast arena between the Chamber of Deputies and the Madeleine contained thirty thousand people. Along the railing of the church was drawn up a regiment of horse. A man in a tri-colored sash three times read the summons and ordered the crowd disperse.

The order is disregarded! The charge is sounded! The dragoons rush with sheathed sabres on the mass! Again and again they charge, but they cut down none!

All at once a heavy cart with a powerful horse is discovered—the people seize it—the horse is lashed into fury—he rushes on the double line of dragoons and chasseurs—a breach is made—the crowd dash through—some rush up the steps of the Chamber of Deputies—they force the gates—they even enter the hall—then, suddenly panic-stricken at their own audacity, they rush back! At this moment, along the Quai d'Orsay, gallops up a strong detachment of the mounted Municipal Guard, led by General Peyronet Tiburce Sebastiani, brother of the Marshal and uncle of the unhappy Duchess of Praslin. A charge was ordered, the crowd was driven over the bridge, and the Municipal Guard, a company of dragoons and a squadron of hussars took up a position at the foot of the Obelisk of Luxor. "Long live the dragoons!" shouted the people. "Down with the Municipal Guard!" accompanied by hootings, groans, shouts and showers of stones. The troops, with sheathed sabres, charged. One of the immense fountains afforded the gamins a place of shelter. Suddenly the flood of water was let on and they fled.

Thus began the revolution.

One o'clock tolled from the tower of the Madeleine. The area was clear. Cavalry patrolled the boulevards. Infantry, bearing, besides their usual arms, implements for demolishing barricades—axes, adzes and hatchets—each soldier one upon his knapsack, followed.

At two o'clock, at the HÔtel des Affaires ÉtrangÈres, at the corner of the Rue des Capucines and the Boulevard, an immense mass of men ebbed and flowed like tides of the sea, and a tempest of shouts, groans and choruses to national songs arose.

A commissary of police in colored clothes, and with the tri-colored sash, led a body of Municipal Guards into the court. Deliberately they charge their muskets with ball. "In the name of the Law!" shouted the commissary. "Vive la Ligne!" responded the people, as they slowly retired.

"Away," cried a trooper to a blouse, in the Place de la Concorde, at the corner, near the Turkish Embassy; "Away, or I'll cut you down!"

"Will you, coward!" replied the artisan, calmly, with folded arms. At that moment a body of the people rushed on the Municipal Guards and drove them for safety into their barracks; then they fled themselves to avoid the fusillade of the enraged troops.

On the Pont de la Concorde the people stopped the carriage of a Ministerial Deputy and saluted him with groans. The next moment Armand Marrast, of "Le National," approached and was most rapturously cheered.

The money-changers, those seers of Napoleon, scented not yet the revolution. On Friday, the three per cents. were 75f. 85c. On Tuesday they opened at 73f. 90c. and closed at 74f.

The day advanced. The Republican and Communist power augments in its systematized order. Paris swarms with insurgents. Bakers' and gunsmiths' shops are plundered. Barricades are thrown up. A column rushes down the Champs-ElysÉes, and, having been repulsed at an escalade of the railings of the Chamber of Deputies, retires, shouting the Marseillaise and a chorus from the new opera of the Girondins, "Mourir pour la Patrie." At dusk a deputation of students, at the office of "Le National," presents a petition for the impeachment of the Ministry.

That impeachment had already taken place!

"What news?" shouted a student to a workman, as he hurried along.

"There has been fighting in the Faubourg St. Marceau; half a dozen Municipal Guards have been carried wounded to the hospital of Val-de-Grace and a captain was killed."

"And is it true that the Guard has been disarmed on the Rues Geoffroi and Langevin, and a gunmaker's shop near the Porte St. Martin broken into and rifled?"

"I hadn't heard of that," was the hurried reply. "But I hear this, that the guard-houses in the Champs-ElysÉes have been taken, and the troops driven off, and that lamps and windows have been torn down."

At that moment another workman rushed along.

"The news!" shouted the student and the first workman.

"The railing of the Church of the Assumption has been torn away by the people to supply arms; two women of the people have been crushed by a charge of the Municipal Guard; the shop of Lepage, the armorer, in the Rue Richelieu, has been entered by means of the pole of an omnibus used as a battering ram; and barricades rise on the Rue St. HonorÉ."

At three o'clock a column of the people dashed down the boulevards, smashing lamps and breaking shop windows. In the Rue St. HonorÉ and the Rue de Rivoli an omnibus and two carriages were seized to aid in erecting a barricade. A guard-house in the Champs-ElysÉes was burned. The troops at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs were increased. No one was suffered to pass. A Municipal Guard was dismounted and nearly killed by the people. The crowd in the Rue Royale had become so dense that it was impossible to pass to the Place de la Concorde. The troops charged. The people gave way. Some were wounded badly; but still rose the shouts, "Vive la Ligne! Down with the Municipal Guard!"

In the Place VendÔme stood a regiment of the Line. There was the hÔtel of M. Hebert, the Minister of Justice, and M. Hebert was hated by the people. "Down with Hebert, the inventor of moral complicity!" yelled the populace, but they made no attack.

It was ten o'clock at night. Many of the shops were closed, but the cafÉs and restaurants were thronged. From time to time the shouts, "Down with Guizot!" and "Vive la RÉforme!" were heard and, also, the roll of drums as a body of troops passed along; knots of individuals gathered around the doors of bakers' shops, and, while they eagerly ate their bread and sausage, as eagerly denounced Guizot and the Ministry.

But all was comparative order in Paris.