The Grange advance. [volume] (Red Wing, Minn.) 1873-1877, 1876-07-12

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words, such a fine patriotic faith, that
it was impossible not to be touched
while listening to him.
Meantime the siege went on !; not
that of Berlin, alas =! -.
at was the time of the terrible cold
weather, the bombardment, epidemics.
and famine. But, thanks to our care.
our efforts, and to the indefatigable
tenderness that surrounded him the
old mans serenity was never once
troubled.
"Until the end l contrived to pro-
cure for him white bread ard fresh
meat. There was only enough for him,
though and yeu cannot imagine any
thing more touching than these inno-
Gently selfish breakfasts of the old man
the Colonel propped up in the bed,
his napkin tucked under his chin, be-
side him his grand daughter, thin and
pale from her privations, guiding his
hands, making him drink, helping him
to eat all the good cheer. Then, re-
vlved by his repast, in the comfort or
his warm room, the wintry frost out
side. and the snow whirling before the
windows, the old cuirassier would re-
call his northern campaigns, and would
relate to us for the fiftieth time the &C.
count of that terrible retreat from
Moscow, when they had nothing to eat
but frozen biscuit and horsetlesh.
"'Can you imagine it little girl!-we
ate horse y
''She could easily imagine it for
two mOnts she had eaten nothing else.
From day to day, how ever, as conval-
escerce approached, our task became
more and more difficult. That numb
ness OF mind and body alike had so
well aided us up to that time began to
disappear. Two or three times the
terrible explosions from Porte Mailiot
had made him start, pricking up his
ears like a hunting dog; we were
obliged to invent a recent victory of
Bazaine before Berlin, and artillery
fired in honor of the occasion at the
Inva1ides. Another day, when he had
pushed his bed up to the window IT
think it was the day of the fight of
Buzenval). he saw plainly the National
guards collecting on the Avenue de la
Grande Armee.
''What troops are those :" asked the
old man and heard him mutter to
himself, Badly drilled, badly drilled !!
''That was all but we understood
that in future we must take great pre-
cautions. Unhappily we were not
cautious enough.
lone evening, on my arrival, the
young girl came to meet me, looking
very anxious,
"'They enter the city morrow, ,
she said.
"Was the grandfather door open :?
I do not know. But, in thinking it
over since, l remember that he was
strangely excited that evening. He
probably overheard us. Only we we're
talking of the Prussians, and the old
man was thinking OF the French, of
that triumphal entry which he had
waited for so long; MacMahon riding
down the tlower.strewed avenue, his
son beside the marshal, and he 1.-THE
old man on his balcony, in full uni
form, saluting the torn flags and pow
der-blackened eagles as they passed.
"Poor Col. Jouve! He doubtless i'm
agined that we wished to prevent him
from witnessing the entry of our
troops, in order to keep him from be-
coming too much excited. So he took
care to keep the secret from every one;
and the next morning, at the very
hour that the Prussian troops were
beginning to march up the road that
leads from the Porte Maillot to the
Tuilleries, that window was opened
softly, and the colonel appeared on the
balcony with his helmet, his long
sword, his worn and glorious uniform
as a cuirassier of Milhaud. 1 cannot
even now imagine what effort of will,
what return of strength, could have
given him the power to rise and dress
himself. However, there he was,
standing erect behind the railing, as
tonished to find the streets deserted,
the blinds of the houses closed, Paris
as silent as 4 tomb, flags everywhere,
it is true, but such strange ones
white, with red crosses-and no one
there to greet our soldiers
''For a moment he thought he had
been mistaken. But no! Yonder, behind
the Arch of Triumph, was a confused
and a black line that was ad-
vancing through the dawn. Then, lit
tie by little, the spikes Of the helmets
glittered; the drums of Jena began to
beat, and under the Arch of Triumph,
cadensed by the heavy step of the in.
fantry and by the clang of the sabres,
sounded Schubert's triumphal march.
Then through the street rang a cry, a
terrible cry, TO arms! to arms! The
Prussians are upon us!' And the four
uhlans of the vanguard might have
seen yonder on that balcony tall old
man stagger, fighting the air with his
hands, and then fall prostrate.: Col.