Mower County transcript. [volume] (Lansing, Minn.) 1868-1915, 1880-09-08
MATHURlNE'S THREE BONNETS
From the French of Paul Celieres, |

WIN OOOSN6 y 1Nncc DUMB
from the French of Paul Celieres.]
"Ding don! Be silent, bell Ding
don! Be silent! Thy sound makes m,
think again of wicked Noun, the ringer
and of Lisa, his daughter. Ding! don
think would like to see them boil
suspended from thy rope. Ding! don
All! they sheer; they are plotting evi
against me! Oh! Noun! Oh! Lisa
Ding! don! I tell the bell, cease tn,
ringing!" Thus ran the thoughts o
Mathurine, and all the time the churcl
bell rang she kept her hands claspee
tightly over her ears, to deaden the I'm
welcome sound
There are impressions made in child
hood which time cannot efface. Their,
are early terrors which all our lives
long do not lose the power to alright us
Mathurine was thinking of day long
ago, when she was yet little child
Noun, the ringer, had taken her roughly
by the wrist, and forcibly led her te
mass, calling her a little wicked child
and an imp Of the devil. On this never.
to-be-forgotten day she heard the bells
ringing full loud peal over her fright.
eneu head, and this noise, more than the
large eyes and gruff voice of Noun him.
self, had filled her with terror. Ever
since she had been filled with bitter
hatred for the church, the bells and the
ringer. Oh! above all for the ringer.
Noun and Lisa were, however, only part
OF many other miseries; for all the peo-
pie in the village seemed to the poor girl
to care for nothing but her discomfort
and chagrin, but nevertheless it was
Noun and Lisa whom she hated most.
1t must not for moment be imagined
that Noun was bad man, for indeed he
was not Small and stout, his head Gov
cred with thick gray hair, there was
nothing fear-inspiring in his appearance.
He was generally agreeable, sometimes
perhaps tritie malicious in his pleasan-
try, but IN spite of this favorite with
the villagers. Why, then, was he the
cause of so much misery to Mathurine {?
All! it was only because Noun thought
that drones were of no use in the hive,
and that useless things were always
harmful. Mathurine did nothing; Math-
urine earned nothing; Mathurine spent
the whole day, and sometimes the whole
night, in the woods, or on the mountain.
She lived by public charity, and Noun,
the ringer, thought that the community
would gain unspeakably were she never
to return from one of her long rambles,
She was old enough to work, to earn,
to establish herself in some way, being
already past her 18th year, although she
appeared much younger. Small in
stature, slight aud very brown, her dis
ordered hair escaped in thick tresses
through the tatters of horrible black
bonnet, which she had worn ever since
her childhood; no one could remember
that she had ever possessed another.
She was a strange looking object in
her rags; something more than strange
as she was seen approaching from dis
lance. Like an animal often whipped,
she came with dropping head, and an air
OF fear seemed to prevade her whole
presence. She would rarely approach
closely to any one, but if by any chance
she did SO, she would raise her eyes with
an anxious and astonished gaze, then
suddenly bending her head, and laugh
ing loudly, would run fleetly, away, with
out utterng word. ~; -
Who, then, was this Mathurine? No
one in the village could answer this
question.
She had been found one morning on
the steps of the church, where she had
been abandoned during the night. By
whom? Probably by some smuggler or
peddler. Few people pass through the
village, which is small >, containing but
fifty houses, and is perched like bird
upon one of the crests of the Jura:
travellers seldom visit it; the great roads
do not ascend so far. i
The finding of Mathurine formed the
subject of six months wondering gossip.
and then was almost forgotten, and
would have been altogether 80 had II not
been for the presence of the forlorn
child, who was placed in the charge of
an old woman of the village.
At eight years Of age she had become
a strange and savage creature, who would
see no person if by any means she could
avoid it, and who held her hands over
her ears to, silence the ringing of the
bells. 1t was utterly impossible TO
make her work. Every morning she
went to the woods, and returned only
with the fall Of darkness. She never
brought anything home with her from
these long rambles; sometimes she would
fill her arms with what seemed to her to
be treasures, but; finding them heavy
and burdensome, would toss them away
long before she reached the village.
Mathurinc never seemed to b. fright
ened by the vast solitudes which she
frequented. Running barefooted through
the streets of the village, she would dis
appear in the forest, where she would
prowl about all day, and in the evening,
pressed by hunger, would return and
knock at the door of the parsonage, -,
The cure of the village was an exceed
ingly good man. This was legible in
large letters on his expansive figure, and
his kind face, rosy as that of young
girl, the thick crown of snow-white hair,
making. itseem more rosy still Hehd
after God, but two objects IF affection;
his poor and his church., OF his. scanty
income he devoted one portion to the un-
fortunate poverty.stricken ones, and the
other to the building go dear to, him.
The Church was the house of his heart
as it W as the house, Of God; He chose it
to be In every way as it should be, ele-
CANT and adorned. With his own hands
ne repaired the wainsbx65ting, and aided
by Noun, the befry had been made more
worthy. of the sweet-voiced bells which
hung there. He had causedto be placed
about the walls castings, Of fine boards.
which are used in, noun tain regions, to
preserve buildings from the DESTROYING
effects Of wind and SNOW. He had-but
what haa he not done, and what would
he s.notE 90, or the dear church. twhidll
seemed always to have about tia fete-
day air; and the prayers offered there