Santa Fe daily New Mexican. [volume] (Santa Fe, N.M.) 1885-1897, 1894-02-10

been read an order surrendering them
to the enemy without blow.
"And the flags demanded Hornus.
1.-The flags were surrendered with the
rest-the guns, the remains of the
wagon trains-everything"
h-th-thunder! 'stammered the poor
fellow, ''they shan keep mine.'
And he set off on the run toward that
side of the town. There, too, all was
confusion. National guards, civilians
and gardes mobiles were walking
about. Populations passed, trembling,
on their way to the marshal's house.
Hornus saw nothing, heard nothing.
He hurried up tho street, mutterlng to
himself:
ITO take my flag from me! Come
now, can this be possible? Let him
give the Prussians what is his own-his
silver plate and his gilded coaches-but
this is mine. It is my honor. l forbid
any one to touch it.
Hls sentences were broken up by
his hurried pace and his stammering
tongue; but, after all, the old fellow
had plan, clear and fixed purpose to
take his flag, to carry it into the midst
of the regiment, and with any who
would follow him to fall upon the Prus-
slams and destroy them utterly. When
he reached the colonel's house, he was
not even allowed to enter. The colonel
too, was furious and would admit no
one, but Hornus did not understand
this He wept, lie swore, he tried to
push past the orderly.
my flag! 1 want my flag" he
shouted.
Finally window was thrown open.
1T is you, Hornus?"
"Yes, colonel--I"--
"All the flags are at the arsenal
You have only to go there for re-
ceipt."
IA receipt-for WHAT"
''It is the marshal's Crder."
"But, colonel,
"Gi-m--peace!" and down went
the window.
Old Hornus staggered like a drunken
man.
IA receipt. A receipt" he repeated
mechanically. Finally he went off
with but one clear idea in his head
that his flag was at the arsenal, and
that, come what would, he must see it
again.
The arsenal gates were opened wide
for the passage of the Prlssian wagons
which were ranged in the yard. A chill
passed over Hornus as he entered. All
the other ensigns were there and SO or
go officers, silent and heartbroken.
With the somber wagons standing in
the rain and the groups Of men with
barred heads, it was like u funeral. All
the flags of Bazaine's army were lying
in heap on one corner of the muddy
pavement. Nothing could be sadde1
than those strips OF bright hued silk,
that debris of golden fringe and carved
sticks, all that glorious paraphernalia
thrown ON the ground, soiled with mud
and rain.
An officer picked them up, one by
one, and as his regiment was called
each ensign went forward to get re-
ceipt. Hard and unsympathetic, two
Prussian officers watched the registra
ton.
. And you are going away thus!-O
sacred, glorious tatters -displayine
your rents, trailing sadly over the pave
ment, like birds with broken wings
You are going away with the shame Of
beautiful things soiled, and each of yor
will carry away a little of France. IL
your worn folds the sunshine of tht
long marches still fingers. In YOU
bullet holes you preserve the memor.
of the unknown dead, fallen perchanc'
beneath the banner, struck -
"Hornus, you--they are calling you
Go get your receipt. "
There was the flag before him. L
was really his, the most beautiful, thu
most mutilated Of them ALL and seeing
it once more he seemed to be standing
again on the railroad bank. He hear(
the balls sing, the shells burst and the
ColOuel 3 NOlGt, ~ Vic nag, bOJo
His % comrades lay there on the
ground, and he, the twenty third, was
springing forward in his turn to seize it,
to lift the poor flag, tottering for want o.
sustaining arm. All! he swore thai
day to defend it, to guard it till death
And now--the thought of all this SEN
every drop of blood in his body to hi
head. Maddened, desperate, he sprane
upon the Prussian officer, tore from hi
grasp his beloved ensign and tried tt
lift it very high, very upright, crying
ITO the H. but his voice died in hi
throat. The staff trembled and slipped
from his fingers. In that weary air
that deadly air that weighed SO heavily
on the surrendered town, no flag coult
wave, no pride could live, and old Hor
nus fell, crushed. -Alphonse Daudet.
Horse Cures Horse.
"Of course horses cannot talk, bu