The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1899-11-17
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: The Rag=Picker's Bundle Z
2 By Frederick r. Burton. Il
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IT WAS in the memorable days of 1871,
when mobocracy, otherwise the
commune, ruled Paris. The excitement
attending the downfall of the empire
had so far subsidized that riots and blood
shed had nearly ceased. AT the worst
they were not the invariable occur
rences of the day. The adherents of the
old regime, however, were still appre-
hensive for their personal safety, and
rarely showed themselves in public
without manifesting in some way their
submission to the new order of things.
And the citizens" on the other hand,
still watched jealousy many of the i'm
perial party lest some plot should be
developed that should prove subversive
of the republic.
Among those whose persons and
homes were under constant surveillance
was Col. Pierre st. Jean, an officer who
had served his country in many wars,
including the disastrous encounter
with Prussia the year before. st. Jean
was a man of courage and invincibie
will. He was grievously cast down by
the failure of the empire, and had no
sympathy with the democratic ten
dency of the times. He was sometimes
called 1.-THE Irreconcilable." Nothing
had persuaded him to join the fight of
the imperialists, and he remained in
Paris to face his fate to the end. There
was no one among the citizens who did
not respect him, but he was none the
less closely watched. When he walked
into the street he was always Joined at
once by some fellow-countryman in a
blue frock, who attended him at every
step of his progress.
1t may readily be believed that the
colonel little relished this proceeding,
but one thing was constantly in his
mind to prevent him from manifesting
too openly his discomfort. He was de-
votedly attached to 15-year-old daugh-
ter, the only member of his family be-
side himself, and it was for her that he
exercised restraint upon his patriotic
passions. For her sake he had even
meditated flight, a thing most repug-
nant to his soldierly nature. But it had
never come to this as yet, although his
danger of staying too long.
One day he set out from his house to
call on his banker near the bourse. He
was hardly out of doors before he found
the inevitable citizen at his heels.
Good morning to you, Citizen ST.
JEAN" said the detective, in suave
tone.
st. Jean was more than usually net
tied.
'Am I never to be allowed to walk
alone about my private business?" he
exclaimed, sharply.
But it is so much pleasanter to have
a companion, citizen" responded the
other, affably. ''And there is no private
business now; everything is of the peo-
pie. But Citizen ST. Jean knows all
this, and it is useless for me to tell him
so.''
II know nothing of the kind" said
the colonel, irritated; you citizens
are excessively impertinent."
''The citizen might not find it so if he
were to respond to fellow-citizen's sa-
lutte politely instead of taking offense
at it,
ST. Jean was thoroughly enragcd.
you would attempt to teach me
manners, would you, vagabond? Get
out of my sight! Col" And he raised
his cane threateningly.
slave a care, citizen" exclaimed the
other, retreating to the street and
changing his tone; sit is not too late to
bring such as you and yours to the
guillotine. Remember that"
ST. Jean turned and went on his way
without a word. The threat had re-
minded him of his danger, but, more
than that, of his daughters danger
The undesired bodyguard followed 81
lently.
Kate that night pebble was tossed
into the open window where st. Jean
sat reading. A party of half dozen
men were passing at the time, and the
missile evidently was thrown by one of
them. They were talking earnestly,
and apparently paying no attention to
ST. lean or his / use, and what was the
object of the movement the colonel
could not for moment understand.
He looked about the room for the peb-
BILE. anG when he found it he saw at
once what was meant. A scrap of paper