The Milan exchange. (Milan, Gibson County, Tenn.) 1874-1978, 1877-09-13


all things here, my Fiine, yet thou
hast nothing. In Paris we need not be
told that we are poor. If we know that the
last sou is being spent, we win buy some
charcoal, we will shut ourselves in the
pleasant little room with the flowers and
the sunlight, and die decently, making
no trouble; but in America it is not so.
Here it is rude and outre. People viii
NEEDLE. You can not manage your
small scraping of life for yourself. You
must starve and beg-and steal, if need
be-but you must live. 1t is, therefore,
no fault of mine, monsieur, that my lit
tie Fiine is i'll and pining. / can not
advertise that l must have her helped;
and I am poor! 1 am poor! am
poor!"
1t seemed to be relief to madame's
mind that the well kept secret was out
at last.
"Madame, - said the visitor, rising, 81
also am poor"
"Excuse me, 1 pray YOU" said ma
dame, her face paling suddenly: 81
have talk much-it is weak. l ask your
pardon"
"When shall we go-when shall we
60 in the country?" asked Fifine, seeing
pause.
"Thou canst not 90 alone, little one,"
said the mother, smiling, and rallying
her spirit.
"She need not 60 alone, madame"
suggested Monsieur Jack, patting the
child on the head-"not if you will go
with her.
All what can poor people do? Was
not madame the wife of a professor, and
was not her pride very great therefor?
Could she go out riding with an apple
vender?
When?" repeated the tiny invalid,
imperatively.
And the mother, driven into a corner,
answered: Tomorrow. ;"
There was little old woman in a yell
low gown stepping quickly about farm
house kitchen. The yellow gown was
short, revealing her blue wooden hose
and sturdy shoes. She was making fine
biscuit, her brisk, horny hands moiding
them deity and quickly. She has set
out round table with a white cloth,
taking down the shining dishes from the
old-fashioned dresser.
"They will soon be here, 1 think, ."
she says, ever and anon looking from
the great door, of which the upper half
swings in, after the manner of old Dutch
farm-houSeS.
She comes out presently, smiling
and courtesying to party who drive
up in a neat little one-horse wagon.
"This is my mother" says the young
man who drives the equipage. He
lifts down Fifne; he. helps madame
to alight.
Fifne's little face is shining like that
of cherub new hedged in Paradise.
She kisses the little old mother, and
they Me friends instantly.
The sun shines down on hedge and
meadow, the quaint old house, the quiet
orchard. Blissful scents float on the
air. There is corn rustling on the sun
nv slope, there are .blackberries ripen-
inc in thelane. The whole air is hazi-
ly sleepy with its freight OF. sunshine
and sweetness.
After that rare, that delicious lunch
in the old kitchen, they went wandering
about the place-to the old red barn, to
the pasture, where two COWS stood pa
tiently Ea1d stupidity looking through
the bars. "They are tame!" said Fl
fine, who had once been to a menagerie
The little old mother laughed, and the
two prattled gayly along hand in hand
Madame, with wild rose in her hair,
! strolled ahead with the elate Monsieur
Jack. Round them rolled the billowy
! hills, faint autumnal haze floating al
their low SUBMITS, and the smoke from
there and then a farmhouse wreathin9
up to the sunlight. Some birds twitter
ed softly in the copse, scarcely disturb
inc the silence and sweetness of the
summertime hush. A tiny brook run
ming along the ledge glittered with car
dinal flowers. Her companion gather
ed handful of the flaming spikes fol
madame.
"Ah, how beautiful they are!" shC
cried. elbow beautiful it all is here
One could, indeed, live here forever"
She glanced about at the purple hills
the fields, the peace and plenty every
where.
elbow can you have all these glories
and be poor?" she asked. Z" In M!
country a peasant would call himsel
rich with all these. He will have man,
friends, and his wife viii wear a sill
. gown. He will not traffic in the cit,
with the canaille.
A deep flush rose to the young man
cheek. He did not reply at once.
Madame" said he at length, sin thi
country there are no peasants. Weare al
free, and we do not care for trifles. !
, man who owns his little farm is indie
pendent; he can make his own market
he chooses. That is enterprise; that
what keeps the fences trim, and the lii
tie old mother stirring. l buy and Sc
where | can. have no wife to object,
: he added, laughing; "and for the rest,
: am, after all, poor man."
f " Such poverty" cried madame, lift
ing her hands. ''Here, Irepeat, | coul
r stay forever, my friend"
"And will you?' said Monsieur Jaci
= turning his sunburned face suddenly W
on her. "See, madame, how happily W
, have spent the day together. Let I
1 have many such"
Fifine came fitting up the path, laugl
| ing and singing.
!. ooh stayi oh stay, mam3n!n 81