Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1893-12-07

been no leisure yet for the yictOrS to
make their toilet
You think he has taken the key of
the fields?"
Il should say he was across the
frontier by this time or on board one
of the American steamers at Havre
He would not let the grass grow under
his feet"
Not so easy to get out of Paris. my
friend. Look at Raoul Rigault He
tried to hide himself yesterday after
noon, but they unearthed him, and
set him with his back to the wall
his favorite attitude of other people
And this Serizier is a marked man.
Chatillon and at Issy. All the army
know him. He will never be able to
pass our OutpOsts unrecOgnized.
Il hope not" answered the other
They say that some of the communist
! dOgS-the leaders of the Sheep-haye
| provided themselves with balloons. and
! that. as soon as they have burned
Paris, they mean to set sail for Eng
land or Belgium"
! There was no more said about Seri-
zier. and Kathleen left, after paying
for her refreshment, and walked home
ward slowly feebly in the bright cool
morning. The sun was rising over the
heights beyond Paris. 1t was shining
on the faces Of the dead, on the dread
full crimson dye which stained the
streets, on rags and tatters, and frag-
nj StpnyNp6 n n
autumn leaves on roadway and pave
ment
Some of the Street-lamDS We're still
burnihg-a pale and sickIy light in the
glow and glory of the morning The
barbados were deserted. This side of
Paris was in possession of the regular
army, and a comparative quiet reigned
the quiet of death and desolation.
But mighty masses of flames and
smoke yOnder, as of a burning volca-
no, told that the confiagratiOn still
ragged with undated fury-the Rue du
Bac, the Rue de Lille, the public gran
aries, the Palace of Justice; enough
material there to last for few good
hours yet.
Halfway towards the Rue Git lie
Occur, Kathleen met Il melancholy pro-
ceSsiOn. Forty COmmunards, men and
women prisoners. in chains, silent with
bent heads, in the midst of the soldiers
who are leading them to the place
where they are to be shot. No trial
no formula of any kind. They have
been taken red-handed among the ruins
they have made, in bitches, behind
heaps of stones. They have been forced
to fight, no doubt The Commune
, would take no excuse Her children
must give her their hearts blood. To
refuse was treason; and death to all
traitors was the cry of those last days.
Rebellion, in her death-agOny, was
merciless. CAS- good one death as an
other" said the sheep, as they went
to the barbados; and they worked
and drank-they were passing liberal
with their strong drinks, those Com
munard leaders-and they fought with
the desperate courage Of men who
knew that death was certain either
way.
And now, meellly as they obeyed
| to be led to their doom. Not theirs
the brains that Matched rebellion; not
theirs the pockets that were filed by
pillage and theft; not theirs the profit
gate orgie or the brief spell of power;
but theirs the penalty-death.
| 1t was nine o'clock when Kathleen
toiled slowly up the staircase, and
/ 1,,1
sisters door. That last portion of her
pilgrimage had been the Slowest of ALL
She had crawled along, half asleep,
hardly knowing where she was or what
she was doing. She had stumbled
against the passers-by, and had been
accused Of drunkenness more than
once by an enraged citizen. And now,
as Maman Schubert opened the door,
she fell into her arms, and sank from
that matronly bosom TO the floor in a
dead faint
The door Of the inner room-Rose's
bedroOm-WaS ajar. The good Schu-
bert lifted up Kathleen's lifeless form
and laid it on the sofa. She miniStered
! to her with the slzilfulness of an eX-
/
! the door of communication, lest Rose
should hear too much. Already Rose
! had inquired several times for her
sister. Was Kathleen better? Would
she be well enough to come down to
see Rose and the baby? The mother
had an idea that Kathleen would find
the little one grown. He seemed to
develop so quickly. He was all per-
fume and bloom, like an opening flow
err His breath was sweeter than sum-
mer roses.
Durand was lying down on a mat
tess spread upon the floor of the tiny
kitchen. He had taken his turn at the
barricade last night and had received
a bullet in the f1eshy part Of his arm.
He was feverish with the pain of his
wound, devoured by perpetual thirst.
you good soul, what would become
of US without your" he said, as he
took a glass of water from Maman
Schubert's hand. How shall we ever
repay you"
MY friend, do you think 1 need any
payment. What has a lonely old wo-
man with a small annuity TO do in this
world except care for her neighbors
And Rose and Kathleen are to me as
my own daughters. Did [ not see them
when they first entered Paris, footsore
and dusty, but so gentle and so pretty
in their WEAKNESS? Was I not the first