The Hickman courier. [volume] (Hickman, Ky.) 1859-current, 1872-11-30
, STRANGE REVENGE.
The Man that Never Laughs, and
why He Never Laughed.

A STRANGE REVENGE.
The Man that Never Laughs, and
why H. Never Laughed.
+ had an old friend. If fate should
ever lead you to the graveyard at
Rheims. YOU might read his name
on q slab that is Beighborly with the
tomb of Able Castle, an aniable
poet, who has received credit for.
some things which were produced
by somebody else. It Is as much
rs ten years that my old friend has
lain under the cypress that his
grandchildren planted over him.
The wind has gradually filed with
earth the inscription which was in
tended to inform the public Here
lies NJ. jean Bernard Moss has
crept over the specimen of Iapidary
caligraphy until the letters of the
epitaph have become a velvet green,
Of. the most picturesque appearance.
My old friend, like goodly mum
ber of those who sleep about him,
was something besides a tender
spouse and excellent father, for
whose soul prayers are offered up.
He was brave and adventurous he
had travelled extensively, had been
shipwrecked n half dozen times, and
was the possessor of worldly ex-
perience well worth consulting Il
vas a most singular thing, however,
that in spite of his amiable and
often Jolly humor, he never laughed
III. Bernard was fond of telling
pleasant stories, but, while all
around him was convulsed with
laughter, he alone retained his i'm
FEASIBILITY. His features wonld be-
come animated, his forehead wrin-
kled, his eyes were plainly visi bic,
but, as to his lips, they did not
sifsh1ts {erimace tEtrfrss =
erated-the SMILE
One evening-it was on board the
English steamer Solent-a nephew
of my old friend was sitting by my
side.
Tell me-" 1 said, suddenly, to the
young man, "why is it that your
uncle never laughs ?"
"Whatl have you also marked
that peculiarity that dates away
back to tie days of his boyhood ?"
Cant you tell me about it2'
"Yes; on condition, however,
that you will be careful never to
make any allusion to it in my uncle's
presence"
1 promisel, but now my old friend
is dead, l can take my turn and
tell why it was that he never
laughed.
In 1914, during the great war in
France, NJ. Jean Bernard had reach
ed his fifteenth year. He was living
in Nancy With his mother. His
father had been killed in Liepsic,
and his eldest brother, captain in
the young guards, was one of the
70. 900 heroes who disputed, step by
step, the march of The allies on the
soil of France, whose success lay in
their numbers alone.
1t was rainy day at the end of
February. The Prussians, beaten
the night before by Napoleon, fled
toward Nancy, and traversed hastily
the almost deserted streets of the
town. Worn out and covered with
mud, they formed on the public
place in front of the Hotel de Vile.
Suddenly there was heard the gallop
Of a score of horses ; soldiers hurry
ing on and turning their heads to
look back, loaded their guns They
felt that they were pursued by the
terrible c6irassiers who had passed
their lines on the night before.
sFThey are afraid r cried young
boy, who was one of the small
crowd Of citizens looking on.
A burly captain, with a grizzly
moustache and an athletic form,
heard the remark, looked the boy in
the face aud advanced toward him.
My old friend-the young boy, I
mean-turned very pale, but doubled
up his fists and awaited his coming.
The colossal Prussian STEPPED up,
seized the boy by the throat, slapped
his face, and threw him to the
ground. This revenge accomplish
ed, he heightened out his step to
regain his already retreating com
! pany.
The young Frenchman jumped
up quickly to his feet-livid, breath
less, mad with rage-threw himself
upon one Of the retreating grena-
diers with an effort to disarm him.
He was quickly thrown to the
ground, trampled under fact and
wounded in the breast with a sabre
The curious crowd that had gather
ed had fled in state of consterna-
ton when the trouble began, and
the enemy was already out OF town
when the young Bernard, in hi.
paroxysm of rage, was still fighting
in his own blood with an imaginary
foe.
He was picked up and carried
home. A brain fever placed his
days and his reason in danger, and
it took all a mothers care 10 bring
/ him back to life. He never spoke
OF this adventure. which he seemed
to have forgotten, and, everybody
was careful not to recall it. His
character was visibly affected; from
frankness and joyousness he had
become taciturn, and when he was
Fparticular]y happy he baeontentee
him self with simply smiling. 40
After the year 1915, Jean Bernard
was placed in bank, while hi
brother renounced his profession 0
arms and bought him a farm in th'
neighborhood of Mulun.