aught up in a knot of belated sightseers hastening to
the scene of the insurrection.

I waited till the coast was clear, and then descended to the river side.

"Citizen bargee," said I, with a salute, "do you want a man to-day?"

The skipper looked up at me and took his cigar from his lips.

"Can you sail a barge?" said he.

"Ay, and tow it too if you like," said I. "And as for wages, suit
yourself, and give me what you like at the journey's end."

"I serve the Republic," said the man.

"_Vive la Republique_," said I. "She does not desert her sons."

"Your name?" demanded he. "Belin," said I, inventing a name for the
occasion. "You are engaged, Belin," said the skipper; "we start this
minute."

With a grateful heart I stepped on board and busied myself with casting
loose the rope.

"Observe, Belin," said my new master, noticing approvingly that at least
I knew how to handle a rope, "your name under me is Plon, that of a
vagabond scoundrel who has just deserted me, and who is named on the
way-bill. There are his jersey and his cap; put them on, and keep your
counsel."

"Pardon, my captain," said I, when I had obeyed him, "what is our
business for the Republic?"

"We carry coats and boots for the Army of the North."

"Long live the Army of the North," said I devoutly.

We soon reached the bridge which marked the boundary of the city. Here
our bill of lading was carefully scrutinised, and our cargo inspected to
make sure we carried no fugitive hidden in the midst of it.

As for me, I took my skipper's advice, and sat smoking my cigar and
saying nothing while the ceremony lasted.

But when at length we were ordered to pass, you may guess how thankfully
I cast off the rope and found myself gliding down the quick current of
the Seine out of that horrible city in which for nearly a year I had
been cooped, expecting every day to be my last I showed my gratitude by
undertaking any hard work my skipper chose to put upon me; and when he
found me so willing, and on the whole so handy, he was content enough,
and we became tolerably good messmates. Only I had learned enough to
keep my mouth pretty close respecting matters which did not concern me.
I professed to know very little of what had passed in Paris during the
past few months, and in what I did to agree entirely with the opinions
of Citizen Benoit, my captain. I cumbered him with few questions or
opinions of my own, and was never backward to take an