The Bossier banner. [volume] (Bellevue, Bossier Parish, La.) 1859-1952, 1878-07-18
NELLIE'S FRENCH TEACHER.



"Will it be perfectly quiet here on the
Fourth? My mother can't bear the
sound of firing"
"Oh, no fear, miss! It's as quiet as
the
"We're quite away from the village
interrupted a younger voice. turned
to see the speaker, for the tone attracted
me. She was young, overlooking
girl, dressed very plainly but with ex-
quisite taste.
ssExcuse my interrupting you, Grand
pa" she said. The bluff old man
smiled, saying, "Oh, that's nought!
that's nought! She's my grandchild,
miss, and I'll make bold to say she'll be
good company for you-Nellie's not
Ike me, she's had good schooling
tsThere's not many like Grandpa, :"
said the girl simply, and quite agreed
with her, though I had only met him
that day. He was man who, in spite
of his rough clothes, looked a gentle
man, and his speech, though quaint,
was not devoid of refinement. His rud.
dy complexion was striking contrast
to his white hair, while his erect car
riage and bright eyes gave him youth
full appearance comparable many young
CT men.
was looking for quiet spot where
my mother could spend the Fourth. Not
that she had always Stunned its noise
and merriment. She had taught her
children to rejoice in their country
birthday: as the Fourth of July drew
near our hearts used to glow as she told
us thrilling stories of our country's
early struggles. We seemed to see
Washington crossing the Delaware or
to hear him pleading for Gods blessing
at Valley Forge; then, on the day itself,
no pains Or expense were spared to
decorate our house in honor of the day,
and she delighted in her boys martial
spirit.
But all this was a thing of the past.
1t seemed to me that mothers sad story
was most nearly told by Mrs. Brown
ing, in her beautiful poem of another
and Poet.'' Over and over again she
had taken up its verses and said:
made them indeed,
Speak plain the word country taught them
That country's thing one should die for
Iprated of liberty. rights, and about
go The tyrant cast out.
And when their eyes flashed. Oh,
my beautiful eyes,
exqlted; nay, let them go forth at the
wheels
OF the guns and denied not. But then the
surprise
When one sits quite alone! Then one weeps,
then one kneelsl
God! how the house feels
But mothers fate seemed sadder than
the Tuscan poets, of whom Mrs.
Browning sang, for after giving up both
her boys to her country, and after hear
ing that one was shot dead at Gettys-
burg, her second son was reported
" missing" and we could never find
any trace of him. The anguish of the
years that followed she alone knew.
was little girl when the war ended,
and though for time / mourned for
my brothers, could not feel it as moth
er did. For my sake she tried to con-
quer her grief, to believe that both bows
were waiting for her on the other side,
put there was one season of the year
which always tried her nerves most ter
nbly-she could not bear the noise
and rejoicings of the Fourth. Year
after year we had stunned our native
land. We had wandered through Italy,
France, and Switzerland, yet again and
again mother would long to come back
. we might find him if we were home.,'
was her secret hope, so this summer we
had fingered in New York.