Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1878-04-28
LORY, THE ALSATION.
Translated from the French.

Translated from the French.
Lory, the blacksmith of Sante- Marie
auxMines, was not in good humor that
night. He was vexed and ill-tempered.
Usually when the forge fires wer e out,
and the sun had set, he sat on the bench
in front of his door and enjoyed the pleas
ant fatigue caused by honest work and
the heat OF the day. Before dismissing
his apprentices he would drink with them
long draughts of cool beer, while the
factory hands passed, going from their
work. That night the old man remained
at his forge till it was time to take his
seat at the table, and while he fingered
no longer, he seemed to go unwillingly.
Looking at him, his I wife thought:
what has happened to him? Perhaps he
has bad news from the regiment, and dare
not tell me? Perhaps Christian is IMP
She dared not ask v hat the trouble was
but busted herself in keeping quiet the
three little blonde heads that chartered
around the table, while munching their
radishes and cream.
At last the blacksmith put away his
plate in anger:
"Ah! the wretches! All, the scoun-
drels!"
"What now, nory, with whom are you
angry?'
"With five or six scoundrels," he
burst out, 6 who have been going about
town since morning, in French uniforms,
and walking arm-in. arm with the Bava-
rains. Some more of those who have
what do they call it, chosen Prussia
for their country; and to think that every
day we see those false Alsatians return
ing! What drink did they brew tlem2''
But think, Lory, poor children it is
not quite their fault. They are sent to
such distance Algeria, in Africa. They
are homesick out yonder, and what a
strong temptation it is to return to their
native land and be soldiers no longer
Lory struck the table with his clerched
| fist.
| "Hush, mother! You women don't
understand. Forever living with children,
and for them alone, you make everything
small enough to fit your babies. Now
tell you these men are scoundrels-ren
egadea the vilest of towards; and il our
Christian were capable of such infamy,
as sure as my name is George Lory. and
that served seven years in the Chasseurs
of France, would run my sword through
his body!"
In his excitement, half raising himself
from his seat, the blacksmith pointed to
his saber hanging on the wall above the
portrait OF his son, zouave, painted in
Africa. There was the honest Asa
tian face, swarthy and bronzed by the
sun, the surroundings, whitened ard
sottened as brilliant colors are by high
light. The sight Gained HIM suddenly,
and he laughed at himself.
I" I am good one to worry myself in
this way-as though our Christian would
think for moment of turning Prussian
he who brought down so many during
the war.
His good humor being restored by this
thought, he gayly finished his dinner and
then went to La Vile de Strasbourg, to
drain couple OF glasses of beer.
! Now Mother Lory is alone. After hay
ing put the babies to bed (they are still
heard in the next room, prattling like a
nest of young birds going to Sleep, she
gets her work and begins to mend, sitting
in the garden, just outside the doorway
From time to time she signs and thinks
eyes, / suppose for they are towards
and renegades, but nevertheless Their
mothers are very happy to have them re
turn" She remembers the time whel
her son, before he left for the army. wa
on that spot at the very same hour Of The