Twenty-ninth day of the war. Hot, somewhat hazy, summer weather, with
faint northerly wind. Thermometer at five P.M. 27 degrees centigrade.

Kaiser William, who it appears was on the field during the battle of
Charleroi, is pressing forward in hot haste, regardless of consequences,
on the road to Paris, close behind the steel-tipped elite of his vast
armies, consisting of the Royal Prussian Guard Corps and the famous
Third Army Corps. To-morrow will be the anniversary of the Battle of
Sedan. The "Mailed Fist" is doing his best to celebrate it by leading
his legions to Paris. It is daredevil desperation that spurs him on, for
nowhere, as yet, have the Franco-British armies been broken through, and
they continue to present successive stone walls to the Teuton invasion,
and oppose every inch of ground with dogged tenacity. The allied left
wing has been forced--always by the traditional enveloping tactics on
their right--to retreat, but they do so sullenly and in good order,
making the Germans pay dearly for every step gained. The battle is
raging continuously, and much depends upon which side first receives
strong reenforcements to fill up the gaps made by tremendous losses. The
Russian advance in East Prussia, according to accounts from Brussels,
has already forced the Germans to send back to Berlin from their center
at least one army corps.

There is hurry and skurry all day long among Parisians and foreign
residents to get away from Paris to more peaceful towns in the south and
west. The railway stations are so crowded that it is almost impossible,
at the Gare of Saint-Lazare or at the Quai d'Orsay to get anywhere near
the booking office. Motor-cabs are being hired at extravagant prices to
convey families to Tours, Orleans, Le Mans, or Bordeaux. The bearing of
the public however by no means resembles that of "nerves," and less