under the heavy shock, but the weight of the cheering masses behind drove them forward again, and once more the charge proceeded at a rapid pace. Another moment unmasked another barricade on Ann Street which opened a fearful flank-fire. From the nature of its situation it was plain that a few rapid strides would carry the troops beyond its range; and still onward the brave men pressed to grapple with their original foes behind the Broadway defense. The cross fire of the Ann Street and Park Row barricades piled up great heaps of slain and wounded opposite the angle formed by those streets, but these were cleared at a few bounds by the infuriated National Guardsmen who dashed forward madly to avenge their losses. The head of the charging column had almost reached that barricade, and the street was densely packed with cheering men, when a signal was given from an upper window of the Astor House, and instantly with yells of delight a shower of bombs descended from the Post Office, the Herald building, and others down Broadway almost to John Street. The sickening scenes of the uptown streets were renewed on a scale larger than ever; the Communists swarmed over the barricades, shooting, bayoneting and braining as they went, taking no prisoners and wreaking a vengeance that more than fulfilled the bloody threats of their orators in the most bombastic flights. The poor remnants of the shattered battalions fled down Broadway, fighting sullenly as they went. Fresh artillery was run out and tore them asunder again; the National artillery, now on even terms, replied, and covered the retreat to the Battery, where the guns of the Navy afforded shelter. The day, indeed, had been one of unmitigated disaster. The nation had just awakened to the full meaning of Dynamite. By night the country and the world knew that Anarchism and Dynamite were not to be blown away like a puff of cigar smoke; that optimistic indifference was the food these monsters fattened on; and, the fools of society were, not those who thought out and sought to apply the only effective measures of prevention, but those who first despised prevention, next ignorantly attempted obvious impossibilities, and finally sat down in despair, and discouraged all effort at retrieving the imbecility of the past. General Sheridan, as a military man, had expressed the opinion that the force of men called out was inadequate to cope with the army of the Commune, which he estimated would number not less than 100,000 able-bodied men. They would have interior lines of communication; could easily reinforce threatened points; had the enormous advantage of defense offered by the possession of a city which public sentiment would not allow to be bombarded or starved, and, in his belief, would fight. He urged the calling out of a force of 100,000 men for three months; the gaining of a street at a time, and its being efficiently and permanently garrisoned, so that as the commercial parts of the city were recaptured, business could be resumed in such sections with perfect confidence in the ability of the government to protect them. As the footholds were gradually increased, inducements should be held out to the rioters to abandon their leaders, and enormous rewards and immunity should be of fered to those who would bring in certain ones, dead or alive. As the cordon closed about them, this would be a constant firebrand in their midst; and the moment that some dissatisfied Anarchist should destroy a leader and claim the reward, that would be the beginning of the end. Such a course would involve less bloodshed, lessen the probability that the city might at the last moment be destroyed by fire, and insure that the Commune should not gain the prestige of victory over the Government which would result from underestimating it as an adversary. But General Sheridan's views were not accepted; and, in trying to do impossibilities, the Commune gained the prestige of four complete victories in one day, and increased beyond computation its hold upon its devoted followers. The Government now found itself driven by sheer necessity to the extended plans of the general, and sat down to wait nearly a month before all the preparations could be completed. The Commune improved its victories and the immunity from immediate assaults which they secured, by issuing renewed proclamations to commerce and non-combative to be the unprotected and trade. It re-opened manufactures, prey of everybody who chose to impose carried on more or less exchanges with upon them. In short, the new theory the outer world; encouraged unrestricted of society was not a success, and the discommunication, though it watched rail- satisfaction of thoughtful workingmen road, steamship and ferry lines with an increased every day. corps of detectives; strengthened the defenses of the city; laid in stores of war munitions; perfected the organization of an immense army, and established the pooling system of the Commune in every department of business and trade. Its leaders labored hard to so regain the confidence of the world, that before the Government could again bring on its armies, the progressive sentiment of the world would forbid the subjugation of a people who had so vindicated their pet theories of government. Indeed, there was not wanting a large class of citizens throughout the country who, with more or less of reservation, adopted that view The population of the city was recruited from all parts of the country by those in sympathy with the principles of the Commune, no less than those who held the same views concerning work which are characteristic of the true Anarchist. New York became the paradise of the vicious and lazy, who more than filled the places vacated by the better classes. The Commune began to see how extensive an undertaking it had or hand to bring these indolent, ignorant and naturally turbulent masses into harmonious relations with any state of society, when the liberties and rights of others were to be considered or maintained. Discontent soon began to manifest itself, as men themselves too lazy and too vile to work claimed an equal share with those who were industrious in the proceeds of the common endeavor. Again, those who had wasted their share in riotous or profligate living, grew envious of the comforts and luxuries enjoyed by those who had spent their money to better purpose. The absence of compulsion and force in internal affairs left the naturally vicious and tyrannical to work their will, unrestrainedly, upon the rights of their less combative or weaker neighbors; and the latter class became dissatisfied with a state of society which left the feeble, sickly VOL. VIII.-15 The Government at last was ready to move. It put an army of 100,000 men upon Manhattan Island. Every block of buildings, as it was captured, was turned over to its original owners with pledge of future protection for its occupants. The fighting was carefully adapted to the new conditions of warfare, and nothing was left at hap-hazard. Business crept again, street by street, into the hands of those who originally conducted it. The space occupied by the Commune grew more and more restricted. Dissatisfaction rapidly increased in its ranks as disasters multiplied, and finally, after two weeks of house-tohouse fighting, most of the section that still remained to the mob was consigned to the torch. Then it was found that the leaders, orators and writers were missing, with, of course, enough "portable property" to make them thereafter silent upon the subject of an "unjust distribution." By this time the element of war had been entirely eliminated from the conflict. The rage of the American people had been so kindled by the appalling dangers of the situation, that the rights of belligerency were denied, and an infuriated demand arose from all quarters for meting out the utmost rigors of an outraged law upon all who had partaken in the horrible atrocities at which organized society, in general, had been shuddering. All males who surrendered or were captured were treated as felons. Great prison camps were established upon the islands of New York harbor and at the various military posts, and preparations were made upon a grand scale for the trial of every man taken in arms against the law. Every other public interest was subordinated to the one great thought of executing summary but legal vengeance upon all who had been engaged in acts of armed treason. Society the world over united in the demand for a lesson to these dangerous classes, which should be remembered as long as civilization should preserve history. The crimes of many years, now culminating in so fearful a tragedy, must be expiated in a penalty so condign that as long as men could read they would be deterred from similar atrocities. It was universally felt that all the blood which flowed in the veins of the criminal classes that had engaged in this horrible crusade against civilization would but poorly atone for the terrible loss of life and property which they had caused, or for the shock which society had suffered everywhere. It was in vain that a handful of maudlin sentimentalists voiced their protests, and repeated their platitudes about the sanctity of human life. Society replied that the life of one man, loyally endeavoring to maintain law, order and civilization, was of more account than the lives of a hundred who stood arrayed against them. This, a truism in any land, was doubly so in this country, where the power to redress grievances and the enjoyment of personal liberty surpassed anything ever before known in the world's history. If Germany, France and Russia were justified in crushing out, with a mailed and bloody hand, organized resistance to law and order, how much more should free, populace-governed America teach these outcasts of Europe that whover attempted to overturn the government of the majority by force of arms and murder need look for no mercy. Thousands of men who could not read nor understand a line of any American law were arraigned for attempting by murder and torch to overturn those laws. All the machinery of Government was devoted to their speedy trial. Every man taken in arms or wearing the uniform of the Commune was placed on trial for high treason and murder; the uniform or weapon was considered prima facie evidence of guilt, and the death sentence followed. For once, justice made no miscarriage. Every man found with dynamite bombs was tried for murder. The possession of the bomb was held to be conclusive proof of murderous intent, and no jury hesitated to connect this intent with the thousands of murders actually committed by the agency of bombs. Conviction and the death sentence were the results. All who had held any office under the Commune, or voluntarily contributed to its support, were tried for treason, and condemned to banishment or imprisonment for life. The death sentences were executed by the military, and society began to breathe more freely. Enormous rewards were offered for the apprehension, dead or alive, of the escaped leaders, editors and orators, and every government entered into immediate treaty for the extradition of such as should be found within its borders. Hundreds of detectives, amateur and professional, started in their pursuit; some stimulated by hope of reward, but many by a burning desire to avenge the murder of friends and relatives. The whole civilized world was scoured by the remorseless sleuth-hounds of tardilyawakened justice. The fugitives were tracked from cover to cover, and hunted from land to land. They found no hiding place secure from betrayal or search. Many were treacherously given up by their supposed friends for the sake of reward. The very money which they possessed often proved their ruin: If they spent it, it betrayed them; if they sought to conceal and guard it, their betrayal was just as certain. Many ended their lives of misery and apprehension by their own hands; others died, like hunted beasts, at the hands of their pursuers; and a few were brought back to the scene of their crimes to pay the penalty of the law. There was no trouble now in securing the passage of stringent laws against Anarchists. Acts of banishment were passed, and citizens freely gave the necessary information to bring criminals to the notice of the proper officials. Every State made the possession of a dynamite bomb, except by license for blasting purposes (and then under heavy bonds and ample restrictions and supervision) prima facie evidence of an intent to commit murder, and gave to police authorities unlimited rights of search. Every precaution which legal ingenuity could devise was employed to prevent a miscarriage of justice in the jury-box, on the bench or through the pardoning power. lic sentiment and action toward the enforcement of laws that will render the unlicensed possession of dynamite a capital offence, and convert Anarchism into a harmless foe of American optimistic as to think that it may not FROM OUT THE PINES. BY B. WERDAN. THE doctors have just said that there is no hope for me; that I may die to-morrow, perhaps, indeed, to-night. But they did not tell me that. Had they done so I could have told them better, but they did not. They went out softly to the other room, shutting the door, lest I should hear them whisper it to Minnie-my niece Minnie-who takes care of me, and who cried, yes, absolutely cried, when they had gone away. They shut the door, I say, but ah, I laughed at that! Little do these doctors know how keen grows the eye, how sharp the ear, how eager the dull mind and clear the brain, as one draws near the shore and feels the breeze from off the Lake of Death fanning the sunken cheeks. Sometimes, while lying here, I have heard the neighbors in the room beyond talking about my chances in the battle with the "shadow grim," and wondering and planning what had best be done after all was over with me; and I have been tempted to call out that I heard them, and tell them to be gone, but then, why should I? They are good neighbors, as neighbors go, and they have been very kind to Minnie; so I let them alone, nor did I speak to them at all, only, it used to worry me a little-but that is over now. But so I heard the doctors, as they told Minnie this morning; and afterward, when she came into my room, I pretended not to see the pretty eyes all red and weighed with tears, or hear the tremor in the sweet, young voice. I merely asked for pen and paper, and to be alone awhile. She brought me these, drew up the little table within reach, and went out. I was left alone-yet not alone, for the spirit of the dead woman is here beside me now, giving me feverish strength to write the words that may at last bring peace to her soul and to mine. I am an old man now, yet, how clear it seems before my eyes-clearer than is the memory of yesterday-that bright sunshiny morning long years ago, when I joined hands and fortune with three other men (all now are dead but me, and I am dying). But then, ah, then, we were so young, and brave, and strong, and full of boyish dreams of wealth, and love, and manhood's happiness! We were out locating mining claims among the Rocky Mountains, and for two wild weeks we worked on side by side, scanning anxiously the sands that ran beneath our feet for signs of the gleaming yellow dust. But, so far, all in vain. One day it came my turn to hunt the game for camp, and in the clear, bright morning I started off, whistling light ballad snatches as I went; for, ah, how could I see, with my duller eyes, the "wee, small cloud" then gathering in the west. The game was hard to track and led me farther and farther up hills and down glens, so that when I turned my face toward camp the night was falling around me, and with it came the conviction that I had lost my way. But what of that? I was young and fearless, and a night spent in that far canyon, with the white stars for my candles and the wind soughing through the dark rock-pines above me, would be filled with pleasant dreams, not idle fears. So I stood still, and looking about me for the safest spot on which to set stakes, I saw just a little before me, in the glen below, a small clearing, and beyond, a clump of trees. I made up my mind to go to this clearing, and had just started, when suddenly a shrill, piercing scream rang out on the quiet air, seeming to come from the shadow of the trees beyond, and echoing down the long ravine, like the cry of a lost soul. Again it came, as I stood there, for at first I hesitated at going toward it, fearing a panther-trap. Then once again it rose, shivering through the darkness, "Oh, help, help, for the pity of God!" Then I knew what it meant: No panther cries like that. Swinging myself down from ledge to ledge, I was soon on the little clearing, then on into the gloom of the pine-tree cluster, led by the cries that had now sunk into pitiful sobs and moans. Just beyond the edge of the woods, through the trees, I saw a ray of light, and tracking it, soon came up to a miserable old shanty, a miner's hut. Within this shanty were the sobs, as of a young girl; and every sob was accompanied by a curse, and the dull swish of some heavy lash as it flew through the air and fell upon the quivering flesh! One moment I paused, the next I had burst open the miserable door, and stood gazing on a picture that has haunted me through all my life. Here, in the low, unfinished room, lit by an old lantern that hung suspended from a beam across the centre of the roof, stood an old, grayhaired, gray-bearded man. Man, did I say? Nay, rather devil, fiend in flesh and blood! There he stood with a long cattlewhip uplifted for another blow, and at his feet lay a young girl, scarcely more than a child, with her long black hair all tangled about her face and matted with blood upon her breast. Blood was upon her face, her dress, her feet, and on the floor. Ah, what a sight it was! One glance, and I had caught the old fiend by the throat, and flung him senseless on the floor beyond. Then I took the poor little lassie in my arms, brushed back the matted curls from her white face, and gave her whiskey from my hunting flask. She soon revived and stood up before me. Drawing the tattered frock across her bruised and bleeding breast, she looked at me with a sort of dazed, childish wonder, but with no sign of fear. Ah, I can see her now; just as she stood there, tall and lithe, and graceful as the young fir-trees growing by the door, with her long black hair, black as a dream of darkness, and her eyes, eyes with the changing mystery of the night, the passion of the storm winds in their depths. Who is he?" I asked her, pointing to the man who lay there, stirring faintly. "He? Oh, he says he is my father, but he lies, he always lies!" came the auswer, in hot, passionate sobs, while her dark eyes glowed with the memory of hate and pain. And you ?" I asked. "Me? Oh, I am Carma, and I have always lived here, only to be beaten and beaten by that man-he will kill me sometime, I suppose!" she said in a dreary little voice, where pitiful despair seemed giving way before the hope of death. I stayed there all that night. About day-break the old man pulled himself together, looked at us for a moment, and muttering curses, turned and went off down among the trees. But when I too would have left, the poor child clung to me, and begged and prayed that I should not leave her there alone. "He is only hiding down there, till he sees you go; then he will come back and kill me!" she whispered, trembling and fearful even at the thought. So I stayed, won by the glorious beauty of those eyes. And that day, and the next, and yet the next, went by, and found me there, content. Carma soon forgot her terror, and laughed in happy glee, as she sat beside me, under the stilly trees. And I forgot my comrades up the long ravine; and all my gold dreams faded from my mind, for ah, I loved the wild-wood flower I had found beneath the pines, and she— Oh, the memory of her love for me! She told me of herself in those sweet days, how she had always lived there, with that fiend, seeing no other face but his; hearing no sound, but the shrill cry of the panther, through the dark. She wore a little locket in her breast, with the face of a woman in ita face, beautiful as the angels, with eyes like Carma's own. Her father, she said, had told her once it was the face of her mother, who had died at Carma's birth. |