who carried the lantern raised it in the direction of the
voice.

"This is a bad hour to travel, my boy," remarked the officer; "are you
going far?"

"O, no, sir; not very far," answered Jack, who did not care to tell the
truth.

"Ah, well! we can go on together as far as Charenton."

What a delight it was to the child to walk for an hour at the side of
these two honest soldiers, to regulate his steps by theirs, and to see
the cheerful light from the lantern! From the soldier, too, he casually
learned that he was on the right road.

"Now we are at home," said the officer, halting suddenly. "Good night.
And take my advice, my lad, and don't travel alone again at night--it
is not safe." And with these parting words, the men turned up a narrow
lane, swinging the lantern, leaving Jack alone at the entrance of the
principal street in Charenton. The child wandered on until he found
himself on the quay; he crossed a bridge which seemed to him to be
thrown over an abyss, so profound were the depths below. He lingered for
a moment, but rough voices singing and laughing so startled him that he
took to his heels and ran until he was out of breath, and was again in
the open fields. He turned and looked back; the red light of the great
city was still reflected on the horizon. Afar off he heard the grinding
of wheels. "Good!" said the child; "something is coming." But nothing
appeared. And the invisible wagon, whose wheels moved apparently with
difficulty, turned down some unseen lane.

Jack toiled on slowly. Who was that man that stood waiting for him at
the turning of the road? One man! Nay, there were two or three. But they
were trees,--tall, slender poplars,--or a clump of elms--those lovely
old elms which grow to such majestic beauty in France; and Jack was
environed by the mysteries of nature,--nature in the springtime of the
year, when one can almost hear the grass grow, the buds expand, and the
earth crackle as the tender herbage shoots forth. All these faint, vague
noises bewildered little Jack, who began to sing a nursery rhyme with
which his mother formerly rocked him to sleep.

It was pitiful to hear the child, alone in the darkness, encouraging
himself by these reminiscences of his happy, petted infancy. Suddenly
the little trembling voice stopped.

Something was coming--something blacker than the darkness itself,
sweeping down on the child as if to swallow him up. Cries were heard;
human voices, and heavy blow