The St. Cloud journal. [volume] (St. Cloud, Minn.) 1866-1876, 1871-12-14
CHAPTER I.-WHAT JENNA SAYS.

CHAPTER 1.-WHAT JENNA SAYS.
At our pension we dine at six; it is
a small and select establishment !; at
present it con tains only two families :
Ia fansiNe Lange, and Ia tan,iWe En-
reeck. We are Ia .tami2e Erreeck.
La famiNe Lange is French, as 3ay
be imagined from its name. It COZ.
sists Of mother, son, aud daughter.
The mother is a handsome, black hair
ed widow, mourning jovially for the
tour-months' dead NJ. Lange, in un-
covered head and huge jet rosary.
Mdlle. Peroline deplores her papa, in
white muslin, lilac ribbons, and won
derful mop of little frizzled curls and
rolls. NJ. Cesar is a youth with an
eye-glass, which is forever dropping
out Of his right eye-a youth tall of
stature, and spotted like the pard. We
are all dining together as socially as
their total ignorance of our tongue, and
our very partial acquaintance with
theirs, will permit. Through the open
window, in the still yellow evening, we
hear plainly the clump of sabots in the
place ; the voices, as often as not Eng
lish or Irish-for Dinan, as is we'll
known, swarms with both-of the pas
sers-by.
There are but few disqdvantageous
circumstances in this world that have
not also their advantageous side; and
the fact Of our being the only people in
the house that understand the English
tongue, enables my sister and me to i'm
part our opinions concerning the COM
pany and tho viands to each ether with
a freedom which, to stranger entering
unacquainted with the posture Of af-
fairs, would seem sta rtlingly candid.
II wish they would let US have our
potatoes Vi.h our bif tax, as they call
it, instead of afterward and separate, as
a side-dish," cay I, grumblingly, being
hopelessly John Bullish in my culinary
tastes.
"Look at this nasty fellow ~ rejoins
Lenore, with a disguised intonation,
directing my attention to her neighbor,
NJ, Cesar, who, With his napkin tucked
under his chin, is holding the bone Of
his mutton. outlet in bis hand, and
gna~ing it. "Do you suppose, Nina,
that French gentlemen worry their
food in such cannibalish fashion, or is
it = manner and custom confined to
bourgeois like these 7"
My reply is strangled in its birth by
the unconscious Madame Lauge, who,
interruptiug for moment her succulent
employment of chasing the gravy round
her tilted plate with crust, inquiries,
with some volubility, whether made
moiselle has made promenade to-day
Doubtlessly mademoiselIe has already
visited Fontaine des Faux, and lehon,
and the saint-E t-Esprit-an object, it fact,
truly remarkable?
My French never was my strong
point, even in school days; and the
| waste of many immense years that have
| elapsed since my education was COM
pleted, has not tended to make it
stronger. I answer, stoutly:
"Non- --aujourdhui--trss.-
chaud )" and look piteously across to
| my junior for succor. But Lenore is
still disdainfully eying the innocent NJ.
Cesar and his mutton-bone.
"Mademoiselle is right; there has
been chaleur cpouvantable; IN truth,
she herself has been tres sou6rante all
day she has had NAL au coeur My
children, however, Cesar and Peroline,
have been to play at the croquen, with
the Demoiselles Smeet and the Demo.
iselles Ammeeiton; Cesar loves the
croquet is it not so, my friend ?"
"Nais oui, madame!"
I try to say in French that croquet is
the best game that ever was invcated
for bringing the two sexes together-a
! trite and psdantio remark At best