PAINTING THE PORTRAIT OF CHARLOTTE CORDAY ON THE EVE OF EXECUTION.
A crowd gathered around the house; they carried her away to prison. She was brought to trial before the Revolutionary judges, and showed no signs of emotion or fear. "It was I that killed Marat," she said. She was condemned to death. She wrote to her father, asking his forgiveness for having given her life to her country. On the 15th of July she was led through the streets of Paris to the scaffold. Many of the people followed her with applause and cries of sympathy. She smiled as her head was cut off, looking beautiful even in death.
Marat, her victim, was buried by his fellow Jacobins with a great display. His body was covered with flowers, and his bust or statue appeared in every part of Paris. The Reign of Terror went on for two years longer. The murders and executions were fearful. But at last Robespierre, Marat's successor, was killed, and the murderers were punished. Marat's four thousand busts were thrown down, and his grave dishonored.
As for Charlotte Corday, she was a murderess roused to madness by the crimes of her victim.
[HOW "THE BABY" WENT NUTTING, AND WHAT CAME OF IT.]
BY KATE UPSON CLARK.
"Beats all," said good old Mr. Hurlbut to good old Mrs. Hurlbut, as he laid down the paper from which he had been reading—"beats all what mizzable little fellers some o' them poor children in the city be. It seems a good many folks on farms, like us, Sereny, have took 'em in 'n' kep' 'em a spell. Must 'a done the poor little things good. Law! makes me feel bad."
Good Farmer Hurlbut took off his spectacles and wiped them with great thoroughness. He was thinking not only of the little newsboys, and the other poor children of whom he had been reading, in the city, fifty miles away, but of a certain little boy of his own and "Sereny's," who had gladdened their home for nine short years, and then had died, leaving them desolate indeed, but with a warm place in their hearts for all his kind.