The St. Johns herald., 1893-05-11
A TOUCHING TALE.
An Incident of the Terrible Ending
 of the Paris Commune.
The Pathetic Story of the Awful Death of Soldiers Little Girl Who Wae on Mission of Love to
 Her Father.


 Tn the year of our Lord 1871 one of the largest and finest cities of the old world was in the throes of a violent commotion without and within. It is of the commotion within we have to do, says the Chicago News. On one side were scarecrows in rags and tatters. These were the people. On the other, gaunt faces attached to bodies wearing blue uniforms. These comprised the army, and upheld the government. The city was Paris; the people French men, and the time during the reign of terror succeeding the fall of the French capital.
 Across one of the main streets there was high, massive heap of stones, boards, barrels, pieces of furniture and debris of every description. This was a barricade. On the other side of this barricade were the human skeletons in their threadbare garments. Their eyes were sunkcn, their cheeks wan and their foreheads scanned with many deep furrows. But they grasped their muskets none the less tightly for all this; their movements were none the less rapid, their aim none the less dead ly. There were the men who had set the government, with all its trained grenadiers, its artillery and its authority, at defiance. Four blocks dis tant were the soldiers-the government. Both sides were resting, preparatory for the morrow's death struggle, for it was night. But they were on the alert; behind the barricade every man was a sentry. None of them expected to see another nightfall, and it mattered not if they were cheated out of a few hours sleep now; the welcome rifle balls of the morrow would satisfactori- ly decide the question of hunger and sleep
 The night was intensely dark, and with the exception of an old lantern hung against the flagstaff, on the top of the barrier, everything was as somber as the shades of death. But these barricades were watching-oh, so keenly! And their guns were double shotted for the government.
 Two blocks distant from this ugly fortress little girl turned the corner and gazed tremblingly at the flicker ing light on the hagpole. In her hand she carried small basket, over which was a red napkin. This was tied tight ly to prevent the rude gusts of wind from blowing it off. She crept close to the walls of the buildings and walked softly toward the light. Nearer nearer-she drew, the pulsations of her heart increasing the closer she ap- preached. But she kept valiantly on. She had approached within a half block of the barricade, when her foot trod on a small piece of wood and it cracked noisily. Instantly half a score of guns "clicl1ed," and harsh, pene- trating voice rung out: ''Who's there?" She tried to answer with all her might, but she could not. Every energy was paralyzed. Her mouth was dry; her tongue motionless. She staggered and attempted to support herself against the wall near which she was standing. She felt her strength leaving her; her head began to swim and she knew she was falling. She dropped her basket, tried to raise her hands, when
 "Who's there?" was repeated, loudly, and moment afterward the same voice gave the command: "Fire!' The vii brations and flashes of twenty heavily charged muskets followed the order The walls of the houses echoed and re- echoed. The awful stiffness was broken. The little messenger shrieked-a long, pitiful, pleading cry-and all was still again. The silence continued a moment or two. Then two of the men reloaded their guns, descended the outside of the breastworks, and went in the direction in which the shots had been fired. One foot. He stopped down. My God, Franzr' he cried, tits a little grill" He picked the slight form up in his arms and started at a run toward the barricade. His companion found the basket and brought it with him. The first man, after crossing the barrier, took his burden into tavern near by. He laid it on table in the main room A light was held over the little waif The man gazed at it keenly moment, then uttered a terrible cry: "Merciful heavensl It's my little Janet!" and dropped on the floor as lifeless as the little girl he had killed It was his only daughter, and her errand had been to bring her father something to eat.
 The troops, hearing the firing and supposing an attack, advanced, took the barricade, and, as its defenders would not ask for quarter, they were shot down to the last man. But the saddest occurrence there was the death of little Janet while on her errand of love.
 r. New Rules of Politeness.