lated, they fell in heaps, or crawled forth, and, with piercing shrieks, entreated the soldiers to end their sufferings with death. Three successive discharges did not accomplish the work, which was finally ended by the swords of the soldiery. Next day, the same scene was renewed on a larger scale, more than two hundred prisoners being thus destroyed. This was repeated day after day; while, on one occasion, the commanding officer rose from a carouse, and with thirty Jacobins and twenty courtesans, went out to enjoy a view of the horrid scene.

At Toulon the mitrillades were repeated, till at least eight hundred were thus slaughtered in a population of less than ten thousand. In Lyons, during only five months, six thousand persons suffered death, and among these were a great portion of the noblest and most virtuous citizens. At Toulon, one of the victims was an old man of eighty-four, and his only crime was the possession of eighty thousand pounds, of which he offered all but a mere trifle to escape so shocking a death, but in vain. Bonaparte, who saw these horrors, says, "When I beheld this poor old man executed,

I felt as if the end of the world was at hand."

At Nantz, five hundred children, of both sexes, the oldest not fourteen, were led out to be shot. Never before was beheld so piteous a sight! The stature of the little ones was so low that the balls passed over their heads, and, shrieking with terror, they burst their bonds, and, rushing to their murderers, they implored for pity and life. But in vain; the sabre finished the dreadful work, and these babes were slaughtered at their feet.

At another time, a large body of women, most of them with young children, were carried out into the Loire, and while the unconscious little ones were smiling and caressing their distressed mothers, these mothers were bereft of all clothing, and thrown with their infants into the waves.

At another time, three hundred young girls were drowned in one night at Nantz, where, for some months, every night, hundreds of persons were carried forth and thrown into the river, while their shrieks awoke the inhabitants, and froze every heart with terror. In this city, in a single month, either by hunger, the diseases of prison, or violence, fifteen thousand persons perished, and more than double that number during the Reign of Terror.

In the prisons not less dreadful sufferings were endured. In these foul and gloomy abodes, the cells were dark, humid, and filthy; the straw, their only beds, became so putrid that the stench was horrible, while enormous rats and every species of vermin preyed on the wretched inmates. In such dens as these were gathered the rank, the beauty, the talents, and the wealth of Paris, and the chief cities of the land. Here, too degraded turnkeys, attended by fierce dogs, domineered over their victims, while on one side were threats, oaths, obscenity, and insult, and on the other were vain arguments, useless supplications, and bitter tears.

Every night the wheels of the rolling car were heard, coming to carry another band of victims to their doom. Then the bars of the windows and wickets of the doors were crowded by anxious listeners, to learn whether their own names were called, or to see their friends led out to death. Those summoned bade a hasty farewell to their friends. The husband left the arms of his frantic wife, the father was torn from his weeping children, the brother and sister, the neighbour and friend, parted and went forth to die, while survivers, picturing the last agonies of those they loved, or waiting their own fate, suffered a living death, till again the roll of the approaching car renewed the universal agony.

To such a degree did this protracted torture prey upon the mind, that many became reckless of life, and many longed for death as a relief.

In many cases, women died of terror when their cell door was opened, supposing their hour of doom was come.

The prison floors were often covered with infants, distressed by hunger, or in the agonies of death. One evening, three hundred infants were in one prison; the next morning all were drowned! When the citizens once remonstrated at this useless cruelty, the reply was, "They are all young aristocratic vipers-let them be stifled!"

Such accumulated horrors annihilated the sympathies and charities of life. Calamity rendered every man suspicious. Those passing in the streets feared to address their nearest friends. As wealth was a mark for ruin, all put on coarse, or squalid raiment. Abroad, no symptom of animation was seen, except when prisoners were led forth to slaughter, and then the humane fled, and the hard-hearted rushed forward to look upon the agonies of death. In the family circle, all was fear and distrust. The sound of a footstep, a voice in the street, a knock at the door, sent paleness to the cheek. Night brought little repose, and in the morning all eyed each other distrustfully, as if traitors were lurking there.

But there is a limit to the power of mental suffering; and one of the saddest features of - this awful period was the torpid apathy, which settled on the public mind, so that, eventually, the theatres, which had been forsaken, began to be thronged, and the multitude relieved themselves by farces and jokes, unconcerned whether it was twenty, or a hundred of their fellow-citizens, who were led forth to die.

Learning and talent were as fatal to their possessors as rank and wealth. The son of Buffon the naturalist, the daughter of the eloquent Vernay, Roucher the poet, and even the illustrious Lavoisier, in the midst of his philo