HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Huron News-Record, 1893-05-31, Page 3it
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Wednesday, May 3lst, 1893.
MAY -TIME THOUGHTS.
"0 Christ the simple story
Of all the day is told,
And now a little lamb of thine
Is going to its fold.
1 pray thee through the shadows dark
That thou with me will stay,
Nor leave me lord till I awake
In thy pure light of day.
And when the simple story
Of all my life is told,
And thou, 0 Christ, art calling me
To enter in thy told •
I pray thee through the shadows dark
That thou with me wilt stay,
Nor leave me Lord till I awake
In thine eternal day.
THE PARODY OF "BOB."
EY IIIA DOGOEnzL roET.
D03ioated to A. tfeL.
Maephairson Clonglocherty A. MeL.
Was a rough sort of chap but the pick of that
crowd ;
You've guessed him a Scotehutan, shrewd
reader, at sight ;
But hold on, shrewd reader, I dou't think
your right.
From Huron's curved raid to the Lakes ebb-
ing tide,
By Coxes and Proctors and Harrisons side,
There was not a woman, a child or a man
Could thresh with big Angie, the chief of his
clan.
No other could fill the machine to the drum,
Or yet with his ease the carriers bung,
When threshing was done he'd clean up the
fluor,
And help the old farmer hang on his barn
door.
But some in the district with jealousy fired,
The aid of the libellous Grit newsntongers
hired,
Who wrote wicked stories about the MeL.
And had them all printed and heralded aloud.
Boil'd over the blood of the celebrated 11lcL.,
He swore by his concave the printer should
tell
The names of the parties who wrote the vile
lies ;
And then ho would blacken the whole of
their eyes.
Olt ! great was the fear in that syndicate,
when
They saw all the trouble they'd caused by
their pen ;
It might beat the sword in marry a way,
But for hard close in fighting a pen would'nt
Day.
So they called a big meeting and swore one
and all—
Tho oldest, and youngest, the great and the
small-
That nevermore, never ! would ono of that
crowd
Write anything wicked about the McL.
But confine their attentions to old maids and
old men
Too weak to resent their vitrol tipped pens ;
So the smile has returned to Clonglocherty's
mug—
It's dry work, this writing, just hand us that
jug.
BURIED IN ITER CRADLE.
"Tho cherry -wood cradle in which Mrs.
Ruth Hall, of Willingtord, Connecticut, was
rocked in when a baby, has, by her own
special request,been made into a coffin for that
good lady."—Am.erican Exchange.]
She had cross'd the line of three -score and ten
For her last birthday was seventy•four,
Yet she thought of her childhood's days, and
when,
As a babe she was rocked to sleep once
more !
And it seem'd to soothe her, the very thought
That she still had the cradle used of yore,
So out from the lumber-roorn it was brought,
AmI-sheri1ayfully rock'd it on the floor !
The "style" of this cradle was "out of
date"—
Nigh a hundred years had it service scen--
It was deep and wide, and its size was great,
As the cribs of the olden time have been !
But many a handsome babe had slept there,
As cosy and warm as infant could be ;
While mothers had rocked, oft a fervent
prayer
Had been breath', beside it on bended
knee !
Sae I a big tear drops from her sad blue eye,
As she thinks ef -the children once she bore,
Who slept in that cradle in years gone by,
But now "rest in peace" on the other
shore !
A glow of affection swept ove: her heart,
As she ponders' on years of motherly care,
'And she felt as if she never could part
With that cherry•wood cradle standing
there.
She looted on the cradle and feebly said :
"We both have grown old together, you
. 500,
I wish from my heart that when I am dead,
A coffin from this might be made for Inc ;
I think I could rest more peacefully there,
Tho long sleep of death would bo sweet to
mo;
And 'mother' would wake me in heaven so
fair
With kisses and smiles as it used to be.
Her wish was granted ; her coffin was made
From the cherry -wood Crib that used to be ;
And in it a pillow of down was laid,
For tbo head from worry and caro set free !
There she looked so calm, and so sweet, and
still,—
'Mong the flowers and the lilies her children
brought; /
She seemed so content, for she had her will,—
To sleep in her cherry -wood cradle cot !
Toronto, Can, JOHN IMRIL.
"AST 1 -Ci WEST."
•
lewletserne Writes an tide Suggested by
the Bras Eayr,
Swinburne, who since Tennysou died is
considered by many to be tie best of living
Euglish poets, hats bean inspired by the
forthcoming Chicago Exposition to write
an ode. It has been set to music by Pro-
fessor Stanford and is soon to be published
in this couutry in appropriate form. It
is entitled "East to West," and is as fol-
lows :
Sunset smiles on sunrise, East and west are one ;,
Fate to Nee in heaven before the sovereign sun.
From the springs of the dawn everlasting a glory
renews and trmisflgures the west ;
Front the depths of the sunset a light as of morn.
Ing enkindles the broad sea's breast,
And the lauds and the skies and the waters are glad
of the day's and the right's work done. '
u.
Child of dawn and regent on the world wide sea,
England smiles on Europe fair as dawn and tree.
Not the waters that gird her are purer, nor might-
ier the winds that her waters know ;
nut America, daughter and sister of England, is
praised of them[ far as they flow ;
Atlantic responds to Pacific the praise of her days
that have been and shall he.
nt.
So from England westward let the watchword fly,
So for Ea Medd eastward let the seas reply ;
Praise, moue. anti love everlasting be sent on the
wind's wings westward and east,
That the pride of the past and the pride of the
future may mingle as friends at feast,
• A113 the songs of the lords of the world wide seas be
one till the world's life die.
—A. C. Swinburne.
THE SALVATION LASS.
Captain Grace threw open the window of
her tiny room and looked out at the bright
sunshine, the b ue sky, the drifting, fleecy
clouds.
"Glory to God," she murmured, "what a
perfect day 1"
Then she sat the coffee on to•boil, toasted
some bits of bread and boiled an egg.
Before partaking of this simple breakfast
she bent her shapely brown head and
whispered :
"Give the strength, Father, for to -day."
That was Captain Grace's daily morning
prayer. Strength to sustain her through
each day's :rork; to help her bear the taunt-
ing words, the insulting laughs, the profanity
and vile language hurled at her on her
rounds; strength to uphold her in her visits
to the slums and to push open the swinging
doors of saloons and attack the devil in his
very stronghold.
Captain Grace was a beauty, and that
tact made her life all the harder. The
face that looked out from under the ugly
army bonnet was the face of an angel, with
its ivory like complexion, in which roses
came and went ; with its clear,
resolute turquoise eyes, its ditripled
chin, straight little nose cud soft red lips.
The piaiu uniform of the Salvation Army
which renders •t homely woman an absoiute
fright by its very severity only emphasized
the loveliness of the girl's face and figure.
Too well did the young wearier know her
charms. She heard them discussed by
men on the street corners, in cars, before
the up town hotels and in the down town
saloons.
"What a bloomin' little daisy!" said the
Fourth ward bum.
"What a little darling!" said the Broad-
way connoisseur.
Captain Grace often wished she were 83
ugly as Ensign Jeruslia, who was pock
marked and squint eyed, and thus escaped
many of Satan's javelins. But a r.gular
life, constant exercise and occupation and
high, pure thoughts combined to ptoducea
beauty which grew from day to day, and
front whieh the earthly elements were fast,
being eliminated.
The girl was gentle, refined and intelli-
gent. She had sacrificed many of the
sweets and joys of lite to lead this curious
existence. She was very reticent about
her past, lived only for her work and to lay
up treasure where moth and rust do not
corrupt.
In the slums she was known, loved and
blessed. Her small red hands had pressed
the aching head of the suffering and
scrubbed the floors of the slatternly. Her
smiles and tears had mingled with those
of the unfortunate of earth. Her cheer
ing words, gracious deeds and prayers
were a sweet savor in the nostrils of the
despairing.
And yet Captain Grace was a girl, with a
girl's love of pleasure, pretty things, ease
and comfort. She battled fiercely at times
with these temptations, faint and weary
with warfar'o,,slonging to yield, to leave the
strife, to taste happiness and human' joy.
But her conscience ever sounded a trumpet
call, and Captain Grace, obeying, sprang
again to the conflict.
Just as she took down her dark blue bon•
net from the wall there canto a knock at the
dont. She opened it.
Miss Francesca Fadd stood there.
Miss Francesca Fadd was rich, pretty,
kind-hearted, generous and always .had a
nice hobby horse to ride.
Just now her hobby horse was the Salva-
tion Army.
She had attended the meetings, wept in
her lace handkerchief, subscribed liberally
and confided to her dear Four Hundred
that she felt herself chastened and comfort-
ed. She had hunted up the pretty captain,
whose face had attracted her, and had
made as great a pet of the giriM the young
devotee would permit.
"Good morning, dearest," said the caller.
"Good morning, dear Francesca," replied
the captain. "Came in."
Francesca seated hetself and took a long
survey of iter friend.
The two girls formed is curious contrast.
Miss Fadd was a study in brown velvet and
sable. Big diamonds quivered in her pink
ears, and a huge cluster of violets shook out
their perfume from her breast. Her great
brown eyes flashed questioningly on the
other, who stood pale, serious, a trifle sad,
but resolute.
"Have, you decided, Grace??"
"Yes, Francesca."
"Well, you will come with me—give over
this bard life, live with me, be my com-
panion au,l sister. You know I pin alone,
rich, my own rnistress. You shall have
every luxury. We will travel."
Captain Grace lifted her little red, rough-
ened hand.
"No more, no more, I beg," she' said,
quietly, "it cannot be."
Miss Francesca Fadd burst into tears.
She was honestly disappointed. She was
fond of tiro girl. And site fancied the idea
of playing Lady Bountiful.
Moreover, she liked to have her own
Way.
But Captain Grace would not surrender.
She had marked out her path in life, and,
though it was rough and stony and might
lead to a place of skulls, yet would site fol-
low it.
An hour after this little scene Captain
(trace reported for duty at headquarters.
Her sweet face was like a ray of sunshine
}ti the gloomy barracks.
"Good morning, Captain," said e, black-
eyed girl in a big gingham apron, gray
shawl and back hat—the regulation slum
brigade uniform.
"Gond morning, Lieoteuant," returning
the 1nlute, "do you feel like fighting to-
day e"
"Yes, Captain," was the quick rosesesa
9 I epuld dove the devil sail, ell his angelic.
Olio morning."
"That's right 1" eaie Captain Grace
cheerily.
lcieutentnt Sally wits. ,ane of C.eeetaiu
Urace's proteges. Sbe was a brand pluck'
ed from the butning. Captain Grace had
reached her from it life of frightful misery
and sin, and Sally's devotion to her friend
war unbounded.
The two received orders to sell the War
Cry until 2 u'elook ; after that they were
to go about their regular alma dulled. Up
and down the streets, in and out et build-
ings, went the fate. They were repulsed
and chaffed by turns. Door's wore banged
in -their faces and coarse jokes cracked at
their expense But they did not uppear to
mind. They chatted animatedly, compar-
ed sales, encouraged each other; once Cap-
tain Grace helped a feeble, tottering old
woman across the street under the very
noses of
the horses, and once Lieutenant
Sally wiped the tears from a dirty little
child's face and gave it a Duke.
It was just as they were about to make
their final call in u Chryatie street saloon
that its doors wore violently dashed open
and a dreadful old tramp, sodden, filthy.
bedraggled was kicked out on the pave-
ment.
Here was a pitiful sight. Shaking and
trembling, he stood gazing vacantly about,
then eudtlenly buret into tears.
Captain Grace hesitated one moment.
"Lieutenant," she said calmly, "I will
meet you at the Norfolk Street tenement as
soon as possible. I have something to do
here."
Lieutenant Sally saluted and departed.
Then, with a face pale as death, but glow-
ing with sublime oompaesion,Captain Grace
approached the poor old wayfarer standing
there alone and wiped the tears from his
wrinkled cheeks with a trembling hand.
"Come, brother," slie said, goutly;"coma
with me."
And holding him by hie ragged sleeve,
Captain Grace steered him along street
after street until she had landed him safely
in one of the refuges established and main-
tained by the army for such as he.
Then unwittingly she set her face toward
her Golgotha.
It was nearly 4 o'clock when she entered
the Norfolk street tenement. Up the
black, creaking stairs she picked her way
to the fourth story, pausing at a rickety
door.
The r"om she entered was quite fresh and
neat from its recent scrubbing. There
was a pot of scraggly gereniuut in the
window. A little girl of 6 was playing
with some battered toys upon the floor. A
pale face, white as the flabby pillow on
which it lay, looked up with a wan smile
as she entered.
"How are you to -day, my dear?" asked
Captain Grace as she bent over the sick
woman. 'Better? Ah ! that's good. Has
Lieutenant Sally been here?"
"Yes, she went down stairs about fifteen
minutes since. See how uiee she has trade
everything look "
"Yes, the Lieutenant is a hard worker,"
said"Captain(;race, trying to mend a dis-
jointed doll fur the clued, who exhibited her
treasure with pride.
'1'liere were various other little services
her quick 'eyes noted, and time slipped away
in their performance.
Suddenly there was a commotion. Sounds
of hurrying feet and confused murmurs
deepened to a sullen swell of voices were
heard.
Across the threshold, in through the
keynote, 0 every cranny of the tumble-
down door, something grey and ghastly
carne drifting and creeping in little wreaths
and pails.
And on the instant a terrible voice
somewhere shrieked the awful word,
"Fire 1"
The engines came leaping like live things
clown the narrow street. There were
frenzied shouts, cries, prayers, tumult,
chaos.
Like tiles, the wretched inhabitants of
the wtetchedtenement clung to the walls,
the windows, the narrow tire escapes.
There was the clatter of horses' hoofs, the
bung ot the ladders as the firemen flung
them in place, and. above all, the heavy
drone and hum of the ponderous engines.
"Take her first," said Captain Grace, in-
dicating- the sick woman, as a big, brawny
firemen, his eyes blazing with heroic ex-
citement, plunged through the crashing
window into the roorn. Be gave the Salva-
tion Army girl is look of sturdy admiration,
and went down the ladder with the woman
in his arms.
The child was clinging about Captain
Grace's neck, her little face buried on her
shoulder.
"Don't be frightened, darling," said the
girl, patting her gently; "the good man
will come back."
"He came, stretching his arms for the
child.
"Keep a stiff upper lip," he shouted to
her amid the smoke, the falling of timbers,
the wavering of the floor under her feet.
It was just then that the billows of smoke
rolled apart for a moment and the crowd
saw the Salvation Army girl.
She was kneeling in prayer.
Through that maddened, cursing crowd,
made up of toughs, loafers and bruisers,
ran a groan.
Men old in crime turned their hardened
faces away as the block smoke shut her
again from sight. Then came the last fear-
ful crash and Captain Grace—steadfast,
brave, faithful unto death --was promoted.
EDITH SESSIONS TUPPER.
STRANGERS .AND TAKEN IN
The Open Air Hotel has a fine antique
flavor about it. %Vo liked the name, so
Bopper and I lounged wearily in at the
dilapidated coach entrance.
"Do the gentlemen wish to sleep here?"
asked a female antique, who evidently went
with the building. "Yes, the gentlemen
had thought of such a thing."
Sho-t'egretted that the hotel no longer
put up travellers. One could drink there,
but not. sleep. "Doubtless the gentlemen
can read ?"
Her tong was not so hopeful as her
words, so Bopper hastened to assure her
that we were not so bad as all that. He
was a little touchy on the point. He knew
that our appearance did not improve as we
went on. But this was only our fifth night
on the tramp, and it, was really too soon to
leegin remarks of this kind.
"Then, if the gentlemen will have the
goodness to leave by this door, and take
the first turning to the left, they will see
before thein a very suitable hotel, and not
too dear."
The Open Air Hotel was evidently one of
those delightfully confusing places that you
enter by one street and leave by another—
doubtless a most convenient arrangement
in the good old days when the hotel was in
fie prime.
'The first turning to the left brought
us to the Three Travelers, a good third•rate
hotel. We knew from the size of Glen that
there was bound to be a Hotel de Franco
somewhere, but too tired to move a step
further, we dropped our knapsack—it was
Bopper's turn to carry it that day—and
clamored for food.
Sipping his preliminary absinthe, Bopper
reviled the Open Ale antique for her low
esteem in selecting ouch a humble house for
us distinguished foreigners.
)l.inier„•..our tetorna metope/led the linnet,—
put
inue -put HAW life WO Me, WO strolicel out to
gee the .own,
Sure epouglt, there watt the usual 001)8'
tenable hotel Rte lrr:t lee, Passing by it
withontcomment,- aids heat Is too full far
words—we acme 14the Mait•ie, in flout of
which wase warlik, settee.
Beteg new to that )art of the country,
we ball actually.,sk the name of the
figure. We were just on the border of tke
Verciugetorix country. Fur weeks after
we never had to usi, aho name of a statue.
Whenever we saw .e figure with a weapon
in its hand of any kited front a horsewhip
to it patent eonlbivaiion of mace still battle•
axe we knew it was Veroutgutorix. In that
district they purse Vereutgeierix tie a oetfi:
mon noun.
At any rate, Bopper told to suhoolinaster
ea with a point of interrogation, and the
schoolmaster did net deny it.
After admiring our first Vercingetorix
we wandered on to the bridge. The set-
ting sun was cermet; the Loire into blood..
Even Hopper, the Philistine, acid it was
fine.
We sat down in one of the embrasures of
the bridge to admire the town.
Up on the hill behind the houses was a
very fine old chateau—a sort of compound
of the Norman Castle and the old Scotch
baronial.
Stopping a pnaser-by I asked whose the
castle was. The man seemed astonished at
our ignorance.
"But, to Mr. the Commandant," was the
reply.
Hopper never liked to be ou•done in
hunting for information. He stopped a
gendarme, and asked if he could get iu to
see the chateau.
"But yes, perfeotly, if the Commandant
orders." From his grim smile we inferred
that the order was not likely to be given.
But gendarmes' jokes are hard to com-
prehend.
When we got to our hotel we tried to
find out more about the chateau, ouly to be
met by gruff and evasive answers.
The crowning insult carne. Never before
in France, and never since, have we been
asked to pay our bi l in advance. Bopper
stormed ; my milder counsels prevaited.
We paid. Then we saw our bedroom. It
contained fifty square feet and two beds.
There was 0 fourteen -inch latae between the
two beds. I thought of the last scene in
the "Sentimental Journey ;''Bopper thought
of going to the Hotel de !''ranee. Bopper
was right.
Once we passed a worse night. Bot our
night with the Tht'oe Travelers was bad
enough to encourage early rising. We
shook the dust of (lieu from our feet at 3.50
a.m. Oh, the delight of that fresh morning
walk alcng the Loire to Briure ! The ten
kilometres spun past witttut our noticing
them. Our morning coffee ! But I have
promised Bopper to use no exclamation
points in anything that he is concerned in,
and he had coffee.
After a delightful morning's walk of
nearly fourteen miles, we came to the
dainty little village of Bonny, at about 10
o'clock. If you happen to be passing that
tray, don't torget to have breakfast at the
Green Oak. If you hurry, you may even
have the good fortune to be served 1)v the
same dainty maiden that Bopper himself
had to praise. He exercises very freely
his married man's right to run down all
womankind but his own. This morning he
was graciously pleased to approve.
"Well, liuppord, we've had a glorious
tuck -in," said Bopper as he filled his pipe,
while passing out of the twain street of
Bonny, "though we should never get
another."
The. last house in the village toward the
south is 0 long, one -storied building with
a little, double -storied portion at the end
nearest the village. It is particularly clean.
At the time we saw it the whitewash was
quite fresh. A tricolor, wlticlt was war-
ranted always to wave in the breeze by flue
simple expedient of being made of iron,
gave a hint, which u long signboard made
explicit with the word "Gendarmerie."
As we approached, the postern of the
courtyard gate was thrown open and a little
man sprang out. He had a pair of dark
blue trousers, with a darker stripe of blue
down the side, a pair of spurs, a huge white
apron, his shirt s.eeves and a bald head.
"Halt there !"
We halted there. For though the little
roan looked insignificant enough, he spoke
authoritatively, and we noticed at the same
time that two burly gendarmes in full uni-
torrn—(except 'that they had the peaked
cap instead of the genuina full-dress cock-
ed hat) stepped out of the postern after
him.
"You are English aren't you?"
"As you say, sir."
"You come from Glen?"
"Perfectly."
"Will you have the goodness to enter?"
lVe had the goodness to eater.
We passed through the court to a stone -
floored sort of office. As we entered, the
door was shat behind us, and the thud of a
musket butt hinted that one of the two out -
aide had been told off'to mount guard over
tra.
"Your papers." The little man held out
his hand.
Up till now Bopper had been delighted.
It was his first arrest, I had gone through
it twice before, and I dare say I had crowed
just a little snore than I ought to over his
inexperience. He thought we were getting
equal at last, but ho did not like to, be
bullied Ey a man in an apron. Besides,
the gendarmes were outside now.
"Permit me to ask by what right you
stop travelers on the high road?" Thus
Bopper, with touch dignity.
"Your papers," repented the little moan
sternly.
"May I ask whom I have the honor of
addressing?" Bopper was severely scare.
"But, the Brigadier Dupont, sir." The
genuine astonishment of the good brigadier
was enough to ,hake us laugh. Bopper
only added sarcastically.
"You haven't much the air ot it."
Stung by the sneer, the officer van ah'
through an inner door, to reappear a fee -
stent after in full uniform. Taking his
seat at the desk, he began.
"Without papers, 1 preaume !"
Bopper was busy looking for a seat. Ho
did not relish standing while the examiner
sat. We had to pocket the affront., how-
ever, through lack of oven a form. Bopper
angrily retorted that "papers" were no
longer required, that we hadn'tpapers, and
that WP would like to know what this de-
tention meant, . Dupont merely took up a
huge yellow paper form and solemnly ask-
ed : -
"Your surnames and Christian names?"
We gave these, and a great many more
items as he asked them, and gravely wrote
them down. Suddenly he turned upon
us with a "Now I've got you" air and ask-
ed:
"Your resources, if you please?"
At this veritable "stand an deliver"
Bopper, with some pride, produced his
purse, containing some 700 francs.
"You didn't look like it, you, know,"
murmured the thunderstruck brigadier.
When I flourished over 1000 francs beforr
him, he could only add:
"Nor pelt ether."
Pleased at the favorable impression our
resources had maple upon the poor brigadier,
who had probably never seen so much
money at one time in his life before, Bopper
deigned to produce our railway return
tipkcte front 1'i ! to 1 opden. Dupont nd-
ntitted this as evi;tl tncs. ilea lliy g'xt qut'a-
tdon shirttail us.
"Can you epeek Spgoisir?"
Thio finished ten exs:snln•ttion. He
would give no explanation, 1)n the sound -
hog of a little bail 0 gendarme entered and
saluted. He pats nut our keeper, whom
we saw grimly keeping gautrd at the floor.
The brigadier handsel' his big tepert to the
man, who withdrew.
Nipper retur:ed to, the charge that the
police had no right to step, us un the high-
way. The brigadter etiolated tient papers
were no longer ueueeeary,bwt—
"I run instruoted to areeet yon on a ape-
efio charge."
"What chtu•ge?" we demanded together.
He only smiled slyly, sank told rte that tut
aid hand like hint was ROL no easily caught
as all titan. The only hint he wetted. gave
ns was that it would be twenty years at
the hulks if prevail .against es. We felt
secretly pleased at the obvious enormity of
our offence.
"English spies, of course;.' Oneeveri Bop -
r.
"English pickpockets more probably,"
retorted the brigadier, who,eertnin y scor-
ed there ; "but no, geutlemene it is neither.
1 may be able to tell you when, I get a reply
to nay telegram."
"Do you mean to say you telegraphed all
that sheet about tea?" naked Ripper with a
pride he could hardly conceal..
"But yes, perfectly; We the rule."
"Where :lid you telegraph to?"
"Ah ! gentlemen make questions. Par-
don me.'
Our conceit in our own importance was
seriously damaged by the intetnm reply.
"Commandant at breakfast. Beep prison-
ers till further notice."
Dupont was annoyed. Bopper was
furious. I am a philosopher:. The heli rang
again. We were conducted' to a sort of
cell, where we had a form to, sit on. We
were locked in. We both feet secretly ag-
grieved at not being put into irons. Even
the cell was a fraud. The window was very
high up, it is true ; but there was only one
iron bar across it—a vertical one. We had
no pallet of straw, or any of the regule•
tion cell furniture. Instead, there was
quite a collection of rifling boots and spurs
and belts hanging round the walls. On
a shelf there were several brown -paper
bundles. Standing upon otnr bench we
could reach the shelf ; but self-respect
forbade.
The pleasant feeling soon wore oft. It
was intolerably hot. We were not in the
least hungry, but we were very thirsty. I
ventured to kick at the door. A man at
once asked what was the matter. Our
petition was immediately granted in the
form of a pitcher of Peuu de vigne.
Two hours aftorwasds Dupont came him-
self to take us out. Our examination seem-
ed perfectly satisfactory. Besides, the
police at Gien had a clue. Only we were
to be kept 011 5 o'clock in case of accidents.
If no word to the contrary came before
then, we were to be set free. Meanwhile,
we were kept in 0 very mild state of bond.
'age. Iu fact, our cell was the kitchen.
alms,. Dupont wanted to converse with the
terrible Englishmen.
Dupont had again put on bis apron, - and
was busy dandling a little girl of four.
Madame was preparing the beans for din-
ner. Bopper soon made his way into the
parental hearts by undoing a bandage round
the ears of the eldest—a boy of about nine
—and after examination prescribing some
specific. His home experience gave him au
immense advantage over me in the good
graces of the family.
Soon he began to worm out of the father
the charge upon which we were detained
It was no less than "Aiding u Spanish
prisoner to escape from the State prison at
6"R:reasoning was conclusive. He had
escaped during the very night we had been
at Gielt. We were foreigners. He was a
foreigner. Therefore, we aided him to
escape. The thing was as plain as a pike-
staff. Dupont, however, put it in a some-
what Letter light for the authorities.
We had been making careful inquiries
about the prison. (So that miserable
chateau we so much admired was the
State prison. Little wonder the gend-
armes smiled at our desire to get into it?)
We had sat for an hour on the bridge care-
fully examining it. In our hotel we continu-
ed our investigations so as to arose the aus-
picious of our landlady. We had started at
an unearthly hour in the morning. What
would you have?
Put that way we had to admit that our
case did not look quite so well.
After judiciously submitting to a little
Instruction from madame in the art of pre-
serving beans. Bopper ventured to pump
Dupont again.
"What was the Spanish prisoner's
crime ?"
My opinion now is that Dupont did not
know. Ho asserted that duty forbade him
to tell.
"Only 1 may let you know that he has
only been in prison for a fortnight (his terns
was fourteen years), and that he escaped
during the night in his shirt."
We wets getting along splendidly. Bop -
per and I were quite sure we were going to
be asked to share the dinner we were help-
ing to prepare, when hey, presto ! another
telegram from the Commandant spoiled
everytlting.
That wire must have conveyed a snub of
some kind to Dupont, for he at mace stiff-
ened up in the most disagreeable style, and
snapped out to us—he did not' even put in
the "Messieurs" --
"You may put yourself en route."
'Ve took him at his word, and were soon
swinging along the high"fvay. As we passed
the big stone making the boundary be.
tween the Loiret and the Nievre, we heav-
ed a united sigh at being out of the Conn -
menden t's beat.
We began quite to understand the easy
descent into the criminal classes. For days
after our arrest we honestly preferred to
keep out of tho way of gendarmes, and not
infrequently we made little detours to miss
the iron flog and the signboard "Gendarm-
erie."
I know th's sketch is incomplete. As
soon as we got home Bopper and I tried to
get the details filled in. We wrote to the
brigadier, enclosing a stamped and directed
envelope, asking what was the Spaniard's
crime, and whether he was caught again.
No answer ever came. Either the briga-
dier never got over that final wire or police
regulations made it dangerous to answer
such letters as ours.
For myself, I would bo quite willing to
stake all the untold wealth I possess that
the prisoner was retaken. The Spaniard
who is able to escape in his shirt from a
State prison in the middle of France, and
get clean away, will give St. I'eter his own
work to prevent him escaping the roll call
after the last trump,—Cornhill.
FINDING AFFINITIES,
Scone : A wood. Springtime. Leonard
Beauchamp and Marto Fairlight are
walking through the wood.
Leonard—All good things must come to
an end, and the beat of friends must part,
I suppose. But the last wook has been the
shortest and the happiest I can recall in my
life.
Marie—Yes. 1t has been delightful. It
frnn+refre�ltittg to meet. 001114r00#1that 4 9
emit talk to oat 001119•ether *0005,hap blit
wPtt°thrr.
Leonitrd. (reflectively)oeWje have' hg4
some very nice Crile, How .» if halt RINI
thrnt ! ` r
tilarie..-The Squire alway..e manages .to
bring to charming set of people together, 1
eau biut an ideal Most, -and i lingi hie wife,
too, though she's a little too matter of feet*
perh
Leoutaps.a'd--Yes. She will porsistein,eahing
me Adelaide's you ug ratan,
Marie—Nell., are you not?
Leonard—Yes, oh yea. That's right
cough, but the aeeident of my befnfi
ngttged to her niece scarcely, warrants[
such grotesque familiarity—eft a first visite
too.
Marie—Accident do you call it ? What
a queer expression for au euguged mast to
use.
Leonard—Are not most engagements as
cideuts ? Sometimes fatal ones.
Marie—When are they fatal ?
Leonard—When they end in matrimony,
Mane—I was always under the impres-
sion that the sole objeut of au engagement
was marriage.
Leonard—Yes, and that is why there -age,
so many unhappy ones.
Marie—But, dear me ; what other end.
would you Neve to an engagement ?'
Leonard—I would have a natural end.
According to my idea a man and a woman
should be engaged to each other on,—wells.
to put it bluntly, on trial. Yes, yot4
laugh, but it's common sense. Let theta
see how the closer intimacy works before -
they're tied together for life. In nine caans-
out of ten it doesn't work, but neither
has the pluck to face the situation, and
they go to the altar doomed to a life• of
mutual boredom, or something worse.
Marie—That's all very fine, my frientd,.
but supposing only one of them gets tired'
of the other ?
Leonard (admiringly)—How you spot the
weak place in my theory! But don't yon
understand that a man needs something
more than mere loving admiration.
Marie—Yes, I understand you.
Leonard—And—and you sympathise
with roe?
Marie --About what?
Leonard—Come. We are friends, yon
know, and friends should be frank.
Marie—And prudent.
Leonard—Oh, it isn't as if Adelaide had
any real love for me. Then your reproof
might be deserved. Besides, you must have
seen how she has carried on with young
Sebright since we have been here.
Marie — Oh, harmless fun ; nothing
snore, She is of a lively temperament. You
shouldn't be too hard on her. She in so
y ouug.
Leonard—We are utterly unsuited to
each other, and you know it. • I see it so
strongly ever since 1 met you.
Mat ie --Hush! We cannot be friends if
you talk to me like that.
Leonard -ll -hat a ghastly farce life is!
We have lived all these years uuconscioue
of each other's existence, and we meet
now—now, when it is ton late. That's so
like the "cussedness" of things generally.
Marie—You forgot we have only known
each other a week. A week hence we
might bore each other Mau ffeably.
Leonard—Never. Some natures seem to
have known each other always, the very
first time they meet.
Alaa•ic--You believe in affinities, then?
Leonard—Most certainly. If there are
ch ethical affinities why not human affini-
ties ?
Marie—The theory of affinities doesn't
seem to adapt itself quite so well to human
nature as to chemistry.
Leonard—No ; there again is the general
cussedness I was speaking of.
Marie --But surely a true friend -hip
atones to some extent for what you call the
cussedness of things generally.
Leonard (gloomily)—I thought so a day
or two ago, but now, on the eve of parting
with you, 1 feel diSIereltly.
Mat ie—How differently ? We can be
friends just the same when absent or pre-
sent.
Leonard—But don't friends feel—feel sad
at parting from each other?
Marie—Of course they do—in a way.
Leonard—In what way ?
Marie—Oh, it's difficult to explain.
Leonard—Is it? Do you know I should
very touch like to hear your definition of
frle11dship.
Alarie—Friendship generally or friendship
between men and woolen?
Leonard—Between [nen and women, of
course.
Marie—Well, I hardly know how to define
it, but—
Leonard—For instance, does friendship
make parting an aneeaish?
Marie—"Anguish" is a strong word. •
Leonard—Well—grief ?
Marie—Say regret.,
Leonard—"ttegret" is a weak, expression-
less word.
Maa•ie—It is strong enough for friends.
Leonard—Ah 1 Then if a roan and a
woman feel more then regret at parting they
are not friends, but something inure. Is
that what you mean ?
ilurie—Yes.
Leonard—What are they ? (A pause.) I
am not your friend, Marie, for my heart
feels anguish at the thought of parting with
you,_and the micettainty of moetieg you
again.
Maric—Huish ! Wo can and must be
nothing but friends. If you say any more
it means parting forever.
Leonard—Marie,, you are cruel—unmer-
ciful.
biotic—Believe me, it is kinder to say
this to you now than to let you go further.
It is for you to choose. Speak to me of
love and I am your friend no more. Be
worthy of yourself and I will bo your true
frid alwa
(Tenhey ways,lk on in silence for some mo-
tpents. )
Leonard—Yes. Yon are right. There's
my hand on it. We will be friends. 1
cannot spare your friendship. It is the
only joy of my life. Hark! There are
voices in the wood to the right. They' talk
low. Who can they he? Why, that's
young Sehright's voice. Look, look, he's
got his arnt round some girl's waist! Who
is it? lVe ought not to spy—what shall
we do? They're going to cross the path we
are on. Shall we turn buck?
Marie—I will, but. I think you had better
roma}n.
I.eonard—I remain? Why? I've no
more right to spy nn them than you. Did
you see? he kissed her. I say, I do 'fool
mean, seeing them without their knowing.
Marie—I think you may spare your scru-
ples.
Leonard —Why?
Marie—Don't von recognize the girt?
Leonard—The girl! Why, what --good
heavens! It's Ade'aide!
Marie (quietly)—She has come in contact
with her affinity,
Leonard (inking her han'l)—Oh, Marie,
and so have I. --Black and White,
!lremorv.
Before a man stows away a fact in itis
brain he should have on understanding
with that fact that it will respond when
called for. In ether words, every fact
should be disciplined. That it what, 1e
called "mem( ry."
1
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