as possible to attract attention.  At last a sergeant of the National Guard procured the keys, the heavy door was opened, and we were free.  I avoided a distribution of rifles and ammunition, and passed out into the street, hoping that my troubles were over.  Alas! they were only just begun; for the first sight that met my eyes as I stepped into the street was a soldier of the Government, calling on all those in sight to surrender and to lay down their arms.  I gave myself up as a prisoner of war.  It was Whit-Sunday, May 28.  Happily my name was written down as one of those taken without arms.

“I was placed in a party of prisoners, and we were marched to the Buttes de Chaumont, passing in our way many a barricade, or rather the remains of them.  Here, the body of a man shot through the head was lying stiff and cold upon the pavement; there, was a pool of coagulated blood; there, the corpse of a gentleman in plain clothes, apparently sleeping, with his head buried in his arms; but a small red stream issuing from his body told that he slept the sleep of death.  Some, as we marched on, kept silence, some congratulated themselves that all was over, while some predicted our immediate execution.  All had the same hunted-down, wearied look upon their faces that I have before alluded to.  At last we were halted and given over to the charge of a regiment of the line.  The first order given was, ‘Fling down your hats!’ Luckily I had a little silk cap, which I contrived to slip into my pocket, and which was afterwards of great comfort to me.  We stood bare-headed in the blazing sun some time, till our attention was called to a sound of shooting, and a whisper went round:  ‘We are all to be shot.’  The agonized look on the faces of some, I can never forget; but these were men of the better sort, and few in number:  the greater part looked sullen and stolid, shrugged their shoulders, and said, ’It won’t take long; a shot, and all is over.’

“A boy about four files behind me was a pitiable object; his cries and his frantic endeavors to attract notice to a document of some sort he held in his hand, were silenced at last by a kick from an officer and a ‘Tais-toi, crapaud!’ Very different was it with a poor child of nine, who stood next to me.  He never cried nor uttered a word of complaint, but stood quietly by my side for some time, looking furtively into my face.  At last he ventured to slip his little hand into mine, and from that time till the close of that terrible day we marched hand in hand.  Meantime the executions went on.  I counted up to twenty, and afterwards I believe some six or seven more took place.  Those put to death were nearly all officers of the National Guard.  One who was standing near me, a paymaster, had his little bag containing the pay of his men, which he had received the day before, but had not been able to distribute among them.  He now gave it away to those standing round him (I among them getting a few francs), saying, ’I shall be shot; but this money may be of use to you, my children, in your sad captivity.’  He was led out and shot a few minutes afterwards.  They all, without exception, met their fate bravely and like men.  There was no shrinking from death, or entreaties to be spared, among those I saw killed.