Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1876-05-18
NO. 1lS.
Tales and Sketehes.
LIE CoUREUa DEs BoIS.

took to the woods and escaped from the control Of
intendants, councils, and priests, TO the savage
freedom Of the wilderness. Not only were the
: m ss Of s.a
venture. The bush-rangers or eony dee bois were
to the King An object OF terror. They defeated
mis- plane for the increase Of the population, and
shocked his native instinct of discipline and order
Edict after edct Was directed against them, and
more than once the colony presented the extraor-
dinary spectacle of the greater part Of it, young
men turned into forest outlaws. s."-Parkmans" "Od
| Regime in Canada"
! CHAPTER I.
1t was cottage of the better class, but
that is not saying that it was either elegant
or very comfortable, for Canada at that
time was very young and pOor-in short,
was still New France. The cottage was,
however, picture in its way. both without
and within. Over the thick stone walls
clambered hardy vine, which was willing
to be beautiful and thrive through the brief
summer, and not become utterly discour-
aged during the six months its roots were
covered with snow. 1t had pulled itself up
to the roof, holding on to the rough stones;
though that was no great feat for the chill
dren who lived in the cottage often did the
same. and had even coaxed gaudy scar
let bean up too, and together they waved
in the summer sun. Within there was q
CHEEKY homeliness, which obscured bare
walls and scanty furniture. 1t was 30 late
in the afternoon, that the slanting rays of
the sun fell in through the door across the
newly secured flour. drying the white
planks before spec OF dust found an
abiding place there; and leaving the grain
of the wood sharply defined in the damp
ness.
There were three persons in the room
mother, daughter, and baby boy. The first
was woman of perhaps forty, whose lines
drawn by care, hard work, and bleak
climate, still retained much of the beauty
of her youth. Her dark eyes. clear and
untroubled now, rested fondly upon the
baby she rocked in her arms and softly
sung to. He was not really q baby, or
would not have been if another had come
to take his place; still, as he was the
youngest, he had for two years reigned
over the family absolutely. Even now, as
his tired mother hoped to see the long
lashes sink in sleep upon his rosy cheeks.
the white lids slowly lifted from the mer-
ry brown eyes, and he looked saucily at
her. She stopped over him, kissed his
pretty mouth. then putting him down. said
TO her daughter: ls
"He will not sleep, Marie, and will
not give any more time to the rogue.
Take him with thee when thou goest for
the cows. and see if thou canst weary him
for once" Marie looked at her mother
with dismayed face, and said protesting
ly: fE
but, maman, he wearies me the most
he makes me carry him, and stoop with
him that he may pick every marguerite he
sees. and when set him down be runs 50
close to the cows legs"
''Well, well, Marie, do as thou wilt"
answered her mother, with an easy indul-
gence, strange in those days when parents
spoke to be obeyed. But between her and
this only daughter was an affection almost
like that existing between sisters. There
had been five years of lonely married life
before Marie was born. when the silent,
hardworking husband had neither time
nor thought to Danish the gloom and home
sickness OF his young wife. who could not
forget old France and the happy home she
had left there. For she was one VI the
many peasant girls who had come out to
Canada in obedie nee to the order Of the
King. that the cOlonists should have
French wives in their new homes. And
when the baby girl was born. the mothers
heart beat with happiness it had not
known at sight Of the two boys who had
come before.
| From the day the little hands had first
offered themselves to assist with an irk-
some task, the mother looked upon her
daughter not only as help. but as .
friend and companion. Marie had hur-
ried through with her childhood, instinct
lively recognizing the want and need of
hor har q art md had ahn.~
the cares of the house and the crowd Of
came more fully each year to the cottagers.
They prospered, and their farm this after
noon was smiling to the rivers edge with
swiftly ripening.grain.
Marie took up lher cap and looked
toward the door, turning, she said:
IL will take him Maman."
mo. Marie; thou art always q good
willing girl 60 alone. The walk through
the forest will rest thee. Only come back
quickly; thy father and brothers will
soon be inland hungry for their supper"
"Maman," cried Marie, dropping upon
her knees beside her mother and hiding
her face upon her bosom, lido not call me
good. The word fills me with shame. l
am not go good u daughter as you de-
serve"
"Ah, little one, thou hast been COM
fort to me all my lile." said the mother
caressingly. Thou art good modest
girl. Now go. See little Jacques is
wondering at thy tears. and 50 10 thy
mother"
Marie still knelt.
81 have been thinking all day of my sins
of how often have panied you and given
you trouble. Maman. can you forgive it
all, and believe that sometimes sin be.
cause do not know which of two things
it is right to do? And will you love me
always. even ii l should sometimes be far
away from your" f
always, always, Marie,' answered
her mother, kissing her, and thinking
that her grief meant no more than that
which had prompted hundred similar
confessions.
MY sweet mamsn,' said the girl. As
she arose.
Patting the baby's waving hair and kiss
ing his warm cheek. she started across the
| fields toward the forest, corner of which
| she must cross to reach the pasture.