Quai Pelletier, where it was proposed to throw | his face was ghastly pale. He shut his eyes, them into the river; but it being discovered, but could not close his ears against the imwhen day returned, that they still breathed, precations of the multitude. A woman, they were stretched on a board and carried breaking from the crowd, exclaimed, “Murto the Assembly. The members having re- derers of all my kindred, your agony fills me fused to admit them, they were conveyed to with joy. Descend to hell covered with the the Committee of General Safety, where curses of mother in France!" Twenty every Robespierre lay for nine hours stretched on of his comrades were executed before him. a table the same with that where he had When he ascended the scaffold, the execusigned the death-warrant of so many noble tioner tore the bandage from his face; the citizens—with his broken jaw still bleeding lower jaw fell upon his breast, and he utand suffering alike under bodily pain and tered a yell which filled every heart with the execrations and insults of those around horror. For some minutes the frightful fighim. During the whole time that this cruel ure was held up to the multitude; he was torture lasted he evinced a stoical apathy; then placed under the axe, and the last foam merely issued from his mouth, which sounds which reached his ears were the exthe humanity of some around him led them ulting shouts, which were prolonged for some to wipe off; but his finger, still with con- minutes after his death. vulsive energy, was fixed on the holster of the pistol which he had not had the courage to discharge. From thence he was sent to the Conciergerie, where he was confined in the same cell which had been occupied by Danton, Hebert and Chaumette. At length he was brought, with all his associates, to the Revolutionary Tribunal, and as soon as the identity of their persons was established they were condemned. At four in the morning on the 29th of July all Paris was in motion to witness the death of the tyrant. He was placed on the chariot between Henriot and Couthon, whose remains were as mutilated as his own; the crowd, which for long had ceased to attend the executions, manifested the utmost joy at their fate. He was conducted to the Place de la Révolution; the scaffold was placed on the spot where Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette had suffered. The blood from his jaw burst through the bandage and overflowed his dress; Along with Robespierre were executed Henriot, Couthon, St. Just, Dumas, Coffinhal, Simon and all the leaders of the revolt. St. Just alone displayed the firmness which had so often been witnessed among the victims whom they had sent to the scaffold. Couthon wept with terror; the others died uttering blasphemies, which were drowned in the cheers of the people. They shed tears for joy; they embraced each other in transport; they crowded round the scaffold to behold. the bloody remains of the tyrants. "Yes, Robespierre, there is a God!" said a poor man as he approached the lifeless body of one so lately the object of dread. His fall was felt by all present as an immediate manifestation of the Divinity. Thus terminated the Reign of Terror—a period fraught with greater political instruction than any of equal duration which has existed since the beginning of the world. ARCHIBALD ALISON. I SEE THEM ON THEIR WINDING WAY. SEE them on their winding | The rogue is growing a little old; Above their ranks the moon beams play, And nearer yet, and yet Imore near, The martial chorus strikes the ear. They're lost and gone the moon is past; The wood's dark shade is o'er them cast, And fainter, fainter, fainter still, The dim march warbles up the hill. Again, again, the pealing drum, The clashing horn: they come! they come! Forth, forth, and meet them on their way! REGINALD HEBER. THE VAGABONDS. WE are two travellers, Roger and I. Five years we've tramped through wind and weather, And slept out-doors when nights were cold, And ate and drank-and starved-together. We've learned what comfort is, I tell you! (This out-door business is bad for the strings), Then a few nice buckwheats hot from the griddle, And Roger and I set up for kings. No, thank ye, sir; I never drink: Roger and I are exceedingly moral.Aren't we, Roger?-See him wink! Well, something hot, then we won't He's thirsty, too; see him nod his head? Roger's my dog. Come here, you The truth is, sir, now I reflect, scamp! Jump for the gentleman. Mind your eye! Over the table! Look out for the lamp! I've been so sadly given to grog I wonder I've not lost the respect (Here's to you, sir!) even of my dog. But he sticks by through thick and thin, And this old coat, with its empty pockets And rags that smell of tobacco and gin, He'll follow while he has his eyes in his sockets. There isn't another creature living Sometimes forgetting the taste of bread And there are times when, mad with thinking, Would do it and prove, through every I'd sell out heaven for something warm disaster, To prop a horrible inward sinking. |