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

Blood everywherG-the pavement was
stained with it; the doors and door
posts were splashed with it; the gut
tiers ram with it. Refuse Of all kinds
Uttered the road; butt-ends Of mus
kets, fra gmentS Of belts, tails of coats,
strips of blouseS, caps, cartouch-boXeS,
shoes; and here, ON the open space in
front of barricade, the soldiers who
had eaten their soup had lain down
TO sleep by the side of the slain, the
living mingled with the dead. Kath-
leen looked at the sleepers shuddering-
ly in the cold clear moonlight. The
clouds had drifted away, and that
scene Of carnage was STEPPED in the
silvery light. Impossible to pass that
spot with feet undyed in blood, i'm
possible to avoid seeing those dead
faces. There, with arms thrown wide
apart and face turned to the sky, calm,
proud even in death, lies the young
lieutenant of artillery whom Kathleen
remembered to have seen in the early
morning sitting astride a cannon,
thoughtful, with arms folded, and face
prophetic of doom. Yes, it is he and
no other. His vest is open, as he flung
lit apart when the victors called upon
him to surrender. His heart is one
wide bloody wound. All the gladness
and pride Of youth have sWelled out
in that purple stream.
No lack of traffic upon the boulevard
CT in the street, albeit the might is far
advanced towards morning. The Omni-
buses are going again-thOse useful
omnibuseS, the luxury of the poor-but
their faces are not the living, but the
dead. They carry q CHASTITY load of
oOd-stained corpseS piled at random,
thrust in helter-skelter. There are not
vehicles enouh for this dismal traffic.
Railway-WagOnS, breaks, all are press
ed into the funeral service Men with
sleeves turned up collect the dead, the
hideOus train moving slowly from bar
ricade to barricade.
One man stands looking with horror
at his naked arms, stepped UP to the
shoulders in blood. Are there no fOun-
tains hereabouts?' he asked Of the
crowd. Yes fountains, rivers of water
are needed to purify this Paris, drown
ed i'm the blood of her children.
1t is deep in the night, but the still
ness of night is not here. Men, women,
families are grouped in dOorWays. No
one knows where the cOnfagratiOn will
end, how near the carnage may come;
no man knows if he and his dear ones
will see the daylight above the roofs
and steeples of eastern Paris. Heavily,
dEearily tie wagons go by with their
silent burden. This may be called the
night-watGh of the slain. On the BOuleI
ward d'Italie the insurgents have erect
ed a monster redOubt, Il fertilization i'll
triple stages, with trenches, 1oopholes,
tunnels, defended at first by five hun
dred men The defenders have dWin-
died to five, but these five will not
yield Their fortress is bOnlbarded, the
adjoining houses are in flames; but still
the five refuse to surrender, and after
n deadly fight, that has lasted thirty
nine hours, they are taken and shot
by the Versaillais
Such conflicts, rs bloody as resOlute,
have been enacted all over Paris in
the moonlit hours, the calm of night,
are given to the gathering up of the
dead. NictorS and vanquiShed lie
cheek by jowl on the stones of Paris;
pecatombs sacrificed to diScOrd and
civil war. The red flag flies yet here
and there above the carnage, the bloody
ensign of a bloody reign.