Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1901-09-08

was the thump! thump! thump! OF the
drum.
Then emotion seized the mob, and
there broke from it a panied cry like
that of an injured child. And instantly.
as though in moekery of itself, the cry
changed to noisy, vacant laughter.
The bag still stood shaking her lean
hands at the jewellers. Her voice was a
eroak, and yet with all the clamor Of
the rioters it could be heard by hun
dreds around.
why play like children when there
is work to be done?" she yelled in
hollow tones. you, and you and
you!" directing her finger at girls
among the hot-cheeked dancers. why
dance you and make merry? The no.
bility have danced and made merry for
/ centuries, and now-now-'
The lamp-post! To the lamp-post."
swelled from many mouths, impetuous-
ly, as though eager to finish the SEN
tence.
Yes, the lamppost, But the lamp
post is not alone for the nobility. Other
heads shall swing. Yes, some of you
pretty heads will dangle bleeding"
and a prophetic, cruel laugh shook the
dame.
A howl was flung at her.
Eyes, yes" she cried in cracked tones,
you laugh now at your misery, you
laugh and dance to forget your cares;
but the hour eomes-oh, | see the hour
coming when those eyes will cease to
fash"
Again rose the vehement song:
Away with a life of care.
Away with a life of pain"
The song filled the air, int the girls
with screams of mirth flung themselves
into the delirium Of the dance. The
fambeaux flared and spluttered, show
ing faces thin and forlorn. They cast
giant and fantastic shadows on the
crooked walls of the gloomy houses.
There fell, just for an instant, a sud
den momentous silence. The uproar
had been surging for long. Then curl
ously, unprecedented, there came the
hush, an awful stiffness as though some
unknown power had chilled the spirits
and stayed the tongues of the rioters.
1t was one of those moments that flash
out in the excitement of a mob, check
ing its outbursts as by an iron hand.
1t was a cold and impressive calm in
the middle of a raging storm.
But only for an instant it lasted.
Then in the lull, clear as a trumpet,
sounded a woman's voice: ITO the
Place aux Marches"
There was a shake of terror in the
words as though they had escaped from
a we'll of tears. But, also, there was
invitation and seduction in it.
1t was an inspiration.
ITO the Place u Marches!" was the
eehoing shout that rolled through the
throng to its utmost ragged edge.
For hours the mob had roamed aim
lessly, down ~boulevards. up boulevards,
along this street, along that, with no
project in it's mind, and only urged on
by the loosening of long-smothered
fury.
There had been no leader; TO left
rite destination was in mind.
But now there was this leader with
the cry: ITO the Place aux
Marches''-to the square where thun-
derous meetings of protest by French
men had been held. Why not then the
protesting place of Frenchwomen?
The woman who had shouted blush
ed deep through her olive skin. She
was tall, above the ordinary. She
breathed hard, and her bosom heaved
In quick harmony. The lips were
tight, but the nostrils, thin and deli
cate, quivered. 1t was a strange face,
dark, strong, hating-the face of a rest
less. passionate m But through
il there shone mystical loneliness.
There was a hook in the eyes that told
they could she'd tender mercy as well
as flash angry fire.
a cap of Liberty was perched on her
raven hair, bright red and tightening
up the features.
Spurred, in that moment of disorder,
she snatched a torch from a woman's
hand, waved it defiantly, and called
again:
ITO the Place aux Marches" 1t
tumbled through the crowd like a wave
rolling along a shore.
The young woman with the torch
wheeled round and started running.
The dancers ceased their whirl and fell
into her wake, following, skipping
shaking their pretty ribbons. laughing
screeching, holding one another's arm,