All as yesterday. Three regiments have gone off quietly. There are fewer people to be seen and there is less noise and bustle in the streets—transportation business having mainly ceased. The soldiers with their legs hanging out of the armory windows look very hot and weary. They keep sentinels patrolling the sidewalks in front and we hear the drums for morning and evening parade. Mike says that the people up his way generally sat up all of last night fearing riots. But except with the newsboys I know of no other signs of excitement. Now that their boss is gone the newsboys cry aloud late at night without restraint or temperance.

Meats have gone up 2 to 4 cts a pound and if the embargo is not broken in two days the supply of the city will be exhausted. We are fattening Curry in a little pen and baiting cats and doves in the yard. When these are exhausted we shall have the rats and spare the canaries to the last. How little we thought that Providence was providing for us when we complained of the [331] rats forming a colony in our house! Last evening I found a bug on my couch. (Rats can support life on bugs).

Richardson is here. Mary Barret is not.

We have not heard from Owen.

John is very well.

You know that although I speak and read French fluently I do not always catch what French people are saying when they talk rapidly or excitedly. You have observed my difficulty? There is a clerk at the office who has the same. And today I saw a painful thing in his efforts to converse with a very tall, very excited Frenchman who had a longer hesitation and a more explosive termination to hesitation in his speech than any English speaking man I have known. I found myself wholly unable to assist him. It was as unintelligible to me as a language which I did not speak.