the gate of the cemetery I found a man waiting for me with news that Belleville was to be our rendezvous.  Words cannot paint the spectacle that Belleville presented.  It was the last place left, the only refuge remaining; and such an assemblage as was collected there it would be difficult to find again.  There were National Guards of every battalion, Chasseurs Federes in their wonderful uniform,—­a sort of cross between Zouave, linesman, and rifleman,—­Enfants Perdus in their green coats and feathers (very few of these were to be seen, as they had no claim to quarter, nor did they expect any), Chasseurs a Cheval of the Commune, in their blue jackets and red trousers, leaning idly against the gates of their stables, Eclaireurs de la Commune in blue, Garibaldians in red, hussars, cantinieres, sailors, civilians, women, and children, all mixed up together in the crowded streets, and looking the picture of anxiety.  In the afternoon about four o’clock we were ordered to mount and to escort ’ces coquins,’—­as the officer called a party of prisoners.  They were forty-five gendarmes and six cures, who were to be shot in the courtyard of a neighboring building.  We obeyed our orders and accompanied them to their destination.  I was told off to keep back the crowd.  The men about to die, fifty-one in all, were placed together, and the word was given to fire.  Some few, happier than the rest, fell at once, others died but slowly.  One gendarme made an effort to escape but was shot through the stomach, and fell, a hideous object, to the ground.  One old cure, with long hair white as snow, had the whole of one side of his head shot away, and still remained standing.  After I had seen this, I could bear it no longer, but, reckless of consequences, moved away and left the ground, feeling very sick.  As I was in the act of leaving, I observed a lad, a mere boy of fourteen or fifteen, draw a heavy horseman’s pistol from his belt and fire in the direction of the dead and dying.  He was immediately applauded by the mob, and embraced by those who stood near as ‘a good patriot.’  And here let me remark that those who have thought it cruel and inhuman on the part of the conquerors to arrest and detain as prisoners gamins of from twelve to sixteen, are quite mistaken.  Those who remained at the barricades to the last, and were most obstinate in their defence, were the boys of Paris.  They were fierce and uncontrollable, and appeared to be veritably possessed of devils.  The difference between the irregular corps and the National Guard was that the latter had, with very few exceptions, been forced to serve, like myself, under compulsion, or by the stern necessity of providing bread for their wives and children, while the Irregulars were all volunteers, and had few married men in their ranks.”