The Superior times. [volume] (Superior, Wis.) 1870-1912, 1880-09-11
mATHURINE'S THREE BONNETS.
From the French OF Paul CeHeres.l

From the French of Paul Ceheres.l
"Dng don Be silent, bell,-Ding,
don, Be silent! Thy sound makes me
think again of wicked Noun, the ringer.
and of Lisa, his daughter. Ding! don,
| think | would like to see them both
suspended from thy rope Ding! don.
! All! they sheer; they are plotting evil
against mel OH Mount OH LISA
Ding, don! [ tell the bell, cease thv
ringing Thus ran the thoughts of
Mathurlne, and all the time the church
bell rang she kept her hands clasped
tightly over her ears, to deaden the I'M
welcome sound.
There are impressions made in child
hood which time cannot etface. There
are early terrors which all our lives
long do not lose the power to alright us.
Mathurine was thinking of a day long
ago, when she was yet a little child
Noun, the ringer, had taken her roughly
by the wrist, and forcibly led her to
mass, calling her little wicked child
and an mp Of the devil On this never
to-bc-fOrgotten day she heard the bells
ringing full loud peal over her fright
ened 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 n bitter
hatred for the church, the bells and the
ringer Oh, above al for the ringer.
Noun and Lisa were, however, only part
OF many other miseries; for all the peo-
pie III the village seemed to the poor girl
to care for nothing but her discomfort
and chagrln, but nevertheless it was
Noun and Lisa whom she hated most.
1T must not for a moment be imagined
that Noun was q bad man, for indeed he
was not. Small and stout. his head Gov
cred with thick gray hair, there was
nothing fear-lnspiring in his appearance.
He was generally agreeable. sometimes
perhaps a tritie malicious in his pleasan-
try, but IN spite of this favorite with
the villagers. Why, then, was he the
cause of 50 much misery to Mathurine :?
All 1t was only because Noun thought
that drOnes were of no usc 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 gam unspeakably were she never
to return from one of her long ramhlcs.
She was old enough to work, to earn,
to establish herself i'll some way. being
already past her 18th year, although She
appeared much younger Small i'll
stature, slight aud very brown, her dis
ordered hair escaped III thick tresses
IL %.,Ak / L
bonnet, which she had worn ever since
her childhood; no one could remember
that she had ever possessed another.
She was strange looking object in
her rags; something more than strange
as she was seen approaching from a 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 tleetly away, with
out uttering a 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 perchad like bird
upon one of the crests of the .Jura;
travellers seldom visit it; the great roads
do not ascend So far
The finding Of Mathurinc formed the
subject of SIX months wondering gossip.
and then was almost forgotten, and
would have been altogether so had it 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
n 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 hurdensome. would toss them away
long before she reached the village
MathuunC never seemed to bc fright
ened 10y the vast solitudes which she
frequented. Running Observation-Disclosures
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
inglv good man. This was legible in
large letters on his expansive figure, and
his kind face, rosy rs that of n Young
girl. the thick crown of snow-white hair.
1t seem more rosy still. Hehad,
after God. but two objects Of affection,
his poor and his church. OF his scantv
income he devoted one portion to the IN
fortunate poverty-stricken ones, and the
other to the building SO dear to him.
The church was the house Of his heart
as it was the house of God. He chose 1t
10 be in every way rs It should be. ele
giant and adorned. With his own hands
he repaired the wainscoting, and aided
by Noun. the belfrv 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 mountain regions. t.