The daily morning journal and courier., 1905-07-03

with a single stroke he cuts the arte- rfes and the cartridges which attach l the head to the body, and instanta- ] neously pulls off the hide, which slips away, with the head and horns at tached, like fur coat with silken lin- ing, leaving the exposed, the empearled flesh, still warm and steaming. The still bleeding flesh secretes all the nu- ances of red, green and blue; of na- carat, crimson, hyacinth, reflection of lilac, of olives, and blue yitriol. The dripping wounds resemble blazing peonies Or the brilliant flowers of Flori- da. the lungs, already pale, are like flowers of eglanrne or pearled roses rainbowed with mauve. .. ..s.@ss I have taken some time to describe that which took place within a few minutes. The animal which we Just saw fall before us was followed in the wink of an eye by dozen others. What I wish to call particular atten- tion to is the unequaled activity of the lspeetacIe, the 100 or 200 men with bloody arms, who slashed, killed, dis lemboweled, beheaded, scraped, washed and brushed the still quivering flesh. Tt is above all the aspect of the floors covered with suuptGous po0is, as red as coronation robes, these seas chang Ling in color to dull slate like the ldebris of stained glass windows, this lslimy floor strewn with glassy intes- tines, the color of fishes' eyes, coiled together like piles of serpents, these mountains of cartridges, of bladders, of tpouches, Of hoofs, of hides, of horns, tof hearts of brains, of Kidney fallen hike overripe grapes, these pools of Iclotted blood like the rusty ashes of Ian ancient holocaust. A field of car mage in the twilight shades, a harvest of scarlet roses broken under the shoes lof the saerificers.
 And without teasing the gushing
 fountains, the jets of purple, pour forth lin nurmuring streams like rivulets of
 earbuneles and rubies, and these placid men giving the death strokes in that tWarm and tainted atmosphere.
 My guide showed me the place where M Henri de Regnier, the delicate poet fof melancholy idyls, of princesses in Ehyacinth robes, of bearers of thyril, of Ipalms and of unicorns, because sick Iwith horror. An explorer of ancient land romantic countries, he was unable Ito endure the view, and above all, the lodor, of the workshop so realistic, So modern. However, in thinking of lthat exiled swans horror of blood in
 these surroundings, repeated to my Iself-for I have a faithful memory Ethese beautiful verses which he had Ewritten;
 II clutehed their manen with superhu-
 # man, grasp
 kAnd as a vintager who makes red
 juice.
 Espurt from the grapes, clasped the E ~ lions throats
 /. ITill from their jaws blood fell upon EF# the grass
 And their proud rebellion overcame
 And made me of their hides and pierc.
 ing claws 'l
 LA cloak of triumph for my naked back
 I approached this beey and touched it; it was still warm. Brief quivers
 passed through the body from time tc
 time, as if chasing away invisible flies
 The first stroke of noon sounded or
 the ground, the butchers threw aside
 their knives, rinsed their hands in 6
 pail of bloody water, took off thei1
 bloody aprons and went to eat ''Yes, meat" replied my guide in an. l,swer to my question.-Jules Huret 1T | Chicago Tribune.