The Andrew County Republican. [volume] (Savannah, Mo.) 1871-1876, 1876-05-25

Of both parties. Many conjectures were
raised as to his whereabouts and the
mysterious manner of his disappear
ance; but non ever approached the
truth. And / think that perhaps no
one, save my bishop and myself, can
tell his story.
81 was sitting in the deep twilight of
that fatal day on Image Plain, just
where you sit now, listening, as is wont,
to the insects, and birds, and rustling
leaves of the cotton-woods, when there
entered without knocking tall, fair
man, leading a little child. | arose,
somewhat startled, but he babe me
keep my seat and, after securing the
door, he approached me, and, seating
the child upon his knee, told me how
he had killed the English Governor in n
moment of excitement when appear
ances indicated a general fight. He
said he would be hunted now like a wild
beast, and hat to save his life his flight
from the country must be immediate,
rapid, and alone. But, unfortunately
for the accomplishment of that object,
he had a daughter, but six years of age,
and bereft of II mothers care, whom il
was impossible to take with him. So,
coniiding in the proverbial charity of
our order, he had brought her to me,
desiring to leave her until he should
reach some place of safety, when she
could be forwarded to him. He plead
ed with me to keep the child so earn
estly that | promised to do so if my
Bishop would permit for you know |
a do nothing without his consent. So
| placed the stranger and the child in
the DON there, and rode the twelve
miles to see my Bishop at once; for the
man was in haste to be OIL.
"When | reached the river, on the
opposite bank Of which stands the pal
ace of Monseigneur, | found the boat
gone, and, being unable to arouse any
one, could not cross till morning. But
my Bishop willingly consented to the
child's remaining, and, further, gave
me permission to aid the fugitive in
escaping according to my own judg-
ment. What else would you have, my
son? The man was of our own faith,
while all his pursucrs were here-par-
don me! l forget you are not of us.
He advised also that, us the pursuit had
already begun, it would he best to Sc
crete him until the search became less
vigilant. SO | kept him here with me
for five months, the little Angclique be-
ing sent to the Sisters across the way.
lie shaved his heavy beard away and
clipped his hair close; so that when he
donned the soutane | gave him, no one
would have known him. We called
him Father Antoine, and | grew to love
him like q brother. He had money, and
gave me the means of building the spire
and cross to the chapel, besides COM
pleting the cottage. When the spring
came at last, he wen oil in the garb of
II priest, with the Pere Geron, leaving
the child behind him, and a void in my
heart like a great gulf.
81 told you, l think, how the Pere
Geron and u companion persisted of
hunger in crossing the Grand Traverse.
and how desolate l was ut their loss.
Well, that companion was the father of
Angelique, and by his death the little
| nnn lann M nay. chill f,,. ,.t.., la,, I
of other relatives. | took her to my
heart after that, and the good Sister
Felice, who cared for hcr, never sought
TO divide her affections with me. We
were as father and child, and our great
love for each other was so apparent
that remember my Bishop threatened
to separate us, and reminded me often
of my VOWS. But that was years ago,
before the fire came to refine our affec-
ton and purge it of its worldlincss.
"You know, mon ami, what Il quiet
life we lead here, and how little amuse-
ment there is even now for child. But
it vas worse then, for Sister Therese
had not yet started the school which
now gathers the parish children at our
door, and little Angelique had only
myself and the two Sisters for play
mates. There was one of them, how
ever, who was Il wonderful musician,
and she taught the child the mys-
terry of her art. All, mon entant, you
should have heard the two singing the
'kyr'e Eleison" have sat by the win
dow here in the long twilight, and list
ened until thought the heavenly choirs
were abroad, so exquisite were the
strains. The poor organ of the chapel
breathed divine hpmonics under her
touch. At eleven years of age she was
mistress of the instrument, and the Sis
ter confessed her inability to teach her
more. People came from the other
parishes to hear her sing in the vespers,
and pronounced her performance mar
Vicious. Then, too, | taught her all the
elementary branches of study, and she
made steady progress. You see, there
was but little to distract her attention
from study, and, living constantly with
her elders, she grew mature very rapid
ly. When she had been with us six
years, and was twelve years of age, the
bishop took her away and placed her
in the choir of the cathedral; but the
poor child yearned for us, and grew so
pale and spiritual that the physician or
dered her return; and, although Mon
seigneur was 10th to part with her, yet
he sent her back, with the new organ
now in the chapel as a present.
"You have heard the people talk, no
doubt, of the prairie fires that ravagcd
the country so terribly eight summers
ago. All, my friend, it was awful--the
long lines of flame sweeping in all di-