Marshall County Republican. (Plymouth, Ind.) 1856-1878, 1870-11-10

Hermann Vogt writes to Frankfort
journal description of a fearful scene
which he witnessed at Bazeilles:
81 was the first person TO appear after
the storm of battle had passed further
away. Dead and wounded lay piled indis-
criminately together. Hundreds of dying
eyes looked ct me imploringly. l was
seized with shuddering; / sought to go
away. Too terrible was the scene, and yet
what was it compared with the barbarity
which had directly after to witnessl A
Wild CRY, more like that of an animal than
of human being, rang in my ears. l
looked towards the place whence the sound
came, and saw q peasant dragging wound
ed Bavarian, who was lying on the ground.
towards q burning house. woman
was so far aiding that she continued
kicking the poor creature in the side with
her heavy shoes. The heart-rending cry
of the wretched man had drawn three Of
his comrades to the spot "Shoot her
down; no, hang her." Two shots rang
out, the peasant dropped. The Meg@ra
laughed, and before the soldier had gone
three steps forward she stood once more
beside her victim. The woman must be
mad. One blow cleft her skull. "Hang
her up; into the FIRE with the brute. :"
While the soldiers gave vent to their evil
IDENTIFY outraged feelings stopped down to
the ill-used soldier. He was dead. His
last breath had passed with hiscry for help.
He was q fine, powerful young fellow.
Well wasYt for his loved ones that they
had not heard the lastcr of agony of their
son or their brother. I shall never forget
his CRY. 1t viii haunt me while live.
II had but just quilted this scene OF
cruelty, when new horror encountered
me. From house close behind me came
the reports in quick succession of two shots.
turned and saw kranksntrager, IN the
exercise of his duty, fall convulsively to
the ground. The wounded man he is car
rying rolls with him in the dust From
that house proceeded the shots-fve, six
Bavarians force a way in. the door breaks
under the blows Of their butt-ends. But
the soldiers stood as if stunned. On the
threshold appears, armed with double-bar-
relied gun, q tall woman; she may be fifty
years old, dishevelled gray hairs fall around
a fine-yes, a noble face. As she regards
the soldiers her features are distorted, she
laughs wildly, the laugh of this woman is
a fearful thing. sVous etes bete, calls
out doctor hnrrying oy. Her laugh is
silenced, torrent Of tears gushes down
her face, she exclalms softly, but IN q tone
of heart-rendingp pain: Non, je suis eposIse,
je suis mere! Vous auez dssdssine mon mari;
uous duez assassine mes des1r fls. Tue moi
dlssi! Je u0us en- renerceirai. 81 uous ne
t,lez pas, c'est moi q,i rous tuerdYi
"With the last words the old wrath re-
turns. She again raises the gun. The
soldiers have not understood her. They
seek to avenge their comrads and to pro-
tect themselves. The doctor stands
shuddering. like myself. Before we can
say word the unhappy woman falls.
struck by two bullets in the breast. Let
her die in quiet, calls out the doctor to the
men, who seem not yet to have satisfied
their revenge, she has lost her husband
and her two sons That makes an i'm
preston on the soldiers; silently they turn
away.
II turn back with the doctor We stoop
down to the poor woman. Her wounds
are fatal. The woman regards MS wildly.
I take ber hand, and involuntarilv my lips
utter pauure femme. The words seem to
have pleased her; she feels they come from
the heart Her eyes grow dim, and as she
clasped my hand firmly her hosom haaves
n last eiph