en one of them, taking up a paper, proceeded to say that I
must be placed in a battalion for active service, as I was under
forty years of age. 'Gentlemen,' I replied, 'your political affairs
are of no interest to me, and it is my misfortune to be placed
in this unpleasant predicament. But I tell you plainly, you may
shoot me if you will, but I absolutely refuse to leave Paris to
fight the Versaillais, who are no enemies of mine in particular,
and I therefore demand to be set at liberty.' Upon this they all
laughed, and told me to leave the room. After a little time I was
recalled, and told I should be placed in a _compagnie sedentaire_.
I again remonstrated, and demanded to be set at liberty, when they
said I was drunk, and ordered me to be locked into my cell, whence
I was transferred to my battalion the next morning. I found my
captain a remarkably pleasant man, as indeed were all my comrades
in my company, and I can never forget the kindness I met with from
them. My only regret is my utter ignorance of their fate. I can
scarcely hope they all escaped the miserable fate that overtook
so many; but I should rejoice to know that some were spared. On
entering the captain's office and taking off my hat, I was told
to put it on again, 'as we are all equal here, Citizen;' and after
the captain had said a few words to me, I was regaled with bread,
sardines, and wine,--the rations for the day. The captain was a
young man of six-and-twenty, with a particularly quiet, gentlemanly
manner (he was, I believe, a carpet-weaver). He had been a soldier,
and had served in Africa with distinction.

"The account of my daily duties as a member of this company from
April 10 to May 23 may be here omitted. I became orderly to one of
the members of the Commune, and being supplied with a good horse
(for as an Englishman I was supposed to be able to ride), I spent
much of my time in carrying messages. On the morning of Tuesday,
May 23, our colonel told us of the death of Dombrowski, who had
been shot during the night, though particulars were not known. I
was sorry to hear of his end, for he had been disposed to be kind
to me, and I knew then that the cause of the Commune was utterly
lost, as he was the only able man among them. The night before, we
had seen such a fire as I never saw before, streaming up to the
sky in two pillars of flame. I was told it was the Tuileries. The
Versaillais were already within the walls of Paris, but this we
in