Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1890-07-05
XXI.
~KATHLEEN's

Whit Sunday. May on the threshold OF
June, the very dawn Of summer; but the
sun, which hitherto has shone pitiless
searching light upon scenes of death and hor-
ror, shines no more. Stormy winds beat
and buster against that feeble old house In
the Rue Git lie Ceur, with q sound and fury
as Of thunder; the c~annonade of heaven
takes up the cannonade Of earth, and echoes
1t with twenty-fold power. Tempestuous
rain lashes the windows, like the spIay
from a seething ocean. The cannon OF Mont
martre thunders against the height, OF
Belleyille and Menilmontant. The ihsur-
gents reply with savage fury, blind, reck-
less, deluging Paris with shells.
And while the pitiless struggle still goes
ON upon the nights Of Belleville, the day OF
reprisals has already begun for the insur-
gents. From Mazas they bring a hundred
and forty-eight prisoners, hastily huddled
into the prison yesterday. In the stormy
Sunday morning, Whitsuntide morning,
they are marched to the cemetery OF Pere
Lachaise, among the trees and the flowers
and the marble monuments of the distin-
guished dead; and there, hard by that COM
mon grave where the murdered Archbishop
and his companions lie In their bloody
shrouds, the Federal prisoners ara divided
into patches Of ten, and shot TO death. They
die bravely, joining hands and crying, Long
live the Communev p with their last breath.
In the prison of Little Roquette, at about
the same hour, two hundred and twenty
seven insurgents meet the same doom not
quite so boldly, for some Of these, said an
eyewitness, were snivellers, and begged for
mercy.
The final hour has come; those shells are
verify the de~ath-rattle Of the Commune.
Thirty thousand men are said to be concen-
/ trated upon this point of Paris, where they
have built up giant barricades, almost i'm
| penetrable fortresses, communicating with
each other by underground passages, q won
| der OF rough and ready masonry and skill.
They are held In this supreme hour by men
Of desperate courage, men who have sworn
not to surrender.
Two o'clock on that stormy Sabbath; and
so far there has been neither rest nor re-
spite. Cannon, miirailleuse, chassepot,
laundering, rafting, roaring, Kissing; but
now as the afternoon wears on there come
intervals Of silence. The cannonade pauses
to draw breath. The sounds Of battle seem
more remote-theydie away In the distance.
Then silence.
Silencel Are they all dead?
This Is Sunday, the day when the labOrer
rests from his toll; but to-day there has
been only one laborer, and his name Is
Death.
Evening, and for the first time for many
weeks and many days no more cannon. o
happy silence Of peaceI Or should we not
| rather say silence Of death?
A column Of six thousand prisoners who
have surrendered at Belleville slowly defle
along the boiLevard; and this is verify the
end. Yes, the cup Of desolation has been
| drained 10 the dregs. There have been the
sword to slay, and the dogs to tear, and tho
| fowls OF the heaven and the beasts Of the
| earth 20 devour and destroy, as In the day
| of the Prophet; only the dogs have been
| human dogs, and the beasts have been hui
| man beasts; and the whIrlwind OF the Lad
| has rome forth with fury, q continuing
whlrlwind, and 1t has fallen with pain upon
! the head Of the wicked; and on the head Of
the good and just and innocent and gentle
| also.
The sacred montlI OF May, month dedi.
| Gated 10 this holy mother OF God, was over
month Of May never TO b. forgotten by
| the French people. Nay which has left its
! indslibls mark upon the city q fsris-and