Rutland weekly herald. [volume] (Rutland, Vt.) 1859-1877, 1872-01-04

each day and each hour, with this super
soription {: For my parents" 1t is there
that he sets down one by one all the init
mate thoughts, the impressions, the out
pourings, the membranes, the hopes,
the discouragements, the manly resolu-
tions and the defeats, which successfully
agitated his mind, struggling not so much
with the thought of death, as with the
thought of the grief which he would leave
behind him. Rossel had great heart as
well as a great mind. Brave and capable
of the noblest heroism, of enthusiastic her.
oism, which is common to all men worthy
of this name-and what is more difficult
and more rare, of cool and rejecting hero
ism, which alore makes great men. He
was brave, we say, and would have faced
a thous md deaths; it cost him much,
however, to leave life-s life scarcely
commepced, and of which he had yet only
prepared the materials,
What debris" said he. "what later
rupted works, what incoherent notes
leave behind me ! What useless sketches
hope that people will not know them.
or that if they become acquainted with
them they will remember that [ die
young, and that one at my ege is not sue
cessful in fixing his thoughts and arrang-
ing them definitely" And then with
these thoughts of interrupted work, of a
broken future, is blended increasingly the
terrible grief of bis father, $50 great, 80
good, so energetic in decisive situations"
and of his mother so tender, so devoted.
II have extingaisbed my candle, and am
walking by the light of the watch-lamp,
which is in each cell by rule. I have
wept aud sobbed as much as I could, stop
ping in the corner by the door, where
perhaps they cannot see me, leaning my
face against the wall, and crying under
my breath. my mother my mother
It is hard for me to weep it is the way
IN oar family-tears will not come.
would have wished to console myself with
tears, but grief aocumulatps inside and
does not reach the face. Towards mid
night retire, End almost as soon the
course of my ideas changes. After all
think how many mothers every day lose
beloved son and cannot we him from
death The world ia peopled with SINH
lar griefs And I, what better death can
l wish
Nevertheless, some thing in me re-
volts at death. said to myself, however
little pity myself feel that I have a
right to be pi'iei. I have not lived long
enough. I need to work, to think, to act,
to love-to love above all. My lungs are
made to breathe long time yet, and my
heart to beat It is not natural to die
thus .....
Can we not believe that we hear the
sublime II do not wish to die vet" of the
Jeune captive cf ChfrDier? Then comes
resignation aud the weariness of the
struggle besides the crisis has come in
termis-ioas. In the fr-t place, it would
be strange if did not continue to have
as ever, my eight or ten hours of good,
sound sleep. and then l read, I write, /
think of the questions which habftually
occupied me, tactics, literature, politics.
I have even, in my prescriptions, mo-
ments OF gayety, humorous oaprioes, that
even inspires the situation. But the deep
est feeling is sad, mouruful. heartrending.
The physical health Is slightly altered. 1t
is a VERT BILE disease to be condemned to
death-!assitude, want of appetite, q lit
tie fever. slight anxiety. At last we wish
for the final stroke. Elsewhere the mind
takes wings and rises to the pride of sao-
rifoe. The following passage attsins a
rare grandeur:
II would have wished to serve my
country can only die for her. 1t is
already fate very honorable, and per- /
haps very useful. Each one does that /
which he can. There are those who have .
only died, and have remained illustrious.
A year ago, flying from conquered Metz
aud the surrounded army, l passed
through Brussels. Crossing a square, I
leaned on. of the carriage TO read the in.
scr;ption engraved on the pedestal of
double statue, representing two young
men em}r icing each other. There some
words in two larguages-'D, Graofen
van Egnont on van HORNE, TO the
Counts of Egmont and of HORNE, urjust-
" pat to death on this square, by order
of the Duke of Alba, the I read
and perceived, in repIac
ing my hat upon my head, that 1 had So
luted the statue. Was it sympathy in
our destinies ? Was it respect for the
blood uobly poured out. and which per-
haps has not been fruitless This remem-
branoe has sustained him mora than
once. The people after several centuries
those who have loved them and
have died for them"
Here and there some detached thoughts
)r snme useful information have been
gathered. Rossel reoounts all apploa-
ions made to NJ. Thiera to save him, and
he desire that NJ. Thi,ra had to do it.
He speaks ev4eively Il 1meone," saws
le, has dared to speak to NJ Theirs. 1t
s too late,' he said. Poor NJ. Thiers-it
will be still later. But say they to him,
you have done it for Beslay p Il would
lot have arrested Rossel if had known
f bad known! 1t il too late =" How
many times and to how many poor devils
ave [ heard these words since France
uocumbed. And they know less and
esa, aud they wait longer and longer, and
t is always too late"
And further en-:
son the 18th of March, the army,
france, the republic, belonged to the re-
On the 10Th they were in the