The Manchester journal. [volume] (Manchester, Vt.) 1861-current, 1881-07-28


The miller allowed bis visitor no time b,
finish his statement, but shouted TO him
from the other side oi the door 10 return
10 his fifs playing, aud II be wished TO find
wife for bis boy TO seek one amongst ihs
lAsses at the new steam mills.
The poor piper with difficulty restrained
bis wrath at these insulting words; and
leaving the old bear alone in his den. he
returned to the village 10 tell the young
people OF his failure.
The poor things could scarcely credit
this cruelty, and implorsd permission Of
the piper to go themselves to the mill
and attempt to soften the heart Of the ter.
rible grandfather.
Francet had not the courage to refuse
their petition; and. indeed. without await
ing his consent, the two children ran away
arm in arm.
few momen's before their arrival
Father Cornille had left the mill. The
great door was closed and double locked; I;
but the old man in his haste had forgotten
ladder leaning against the wall outside,
and the idea OF entering BY the window
rushed simultaneously 70 the lovers
minds. Once inside, they could, in any
case behold for themselves the mysterious
interior OF the mill.
Strange to relate, the large upper room
was empty, quite empty. Noa single
sack was to be seen; not grain of wheat;
not a trace OF -four was upon the walls, nor
in the dusty oobwebs which literally
adorned them. The warm, sweet odor OF
crushed wheat, usually pervading every
crack and corner of a mill, was lacking
here. The great shaft WAS thickly cover.
ed with dust, and the thin, black cat was
crouched upon it, with wicked half open
eyes.
The small room below had the same APP
pearance OF misery and desolation. A
wretched bed covered with ragged blank
ct; dry crust upon one Of the lower steps
OF the wooden staircase; and in one corner
three or four sacks, from the holes OF
which escaoed few small stones and a
thin stream of fine white earth.
This, then, was Father Cornilles secret
The well-filled sacks with which he daily
loaded his daily mule. contained only rub
bish and bits OF broken plaster; and all
this to save the honor OF the beloved mill.
Poor mill Poor. poor old miller The
new fashioned steam mill had long since
robbed him of his last customer; and. al
though the busy wings flew merrily from
morning until night, the patient whee
turned YEARLY upon nothing.
The lovers returned TO tell what they
had discovered, both weeping bitterly;
and hard indeed must have been the heart
that remained untouched as they told the
sad story.
Without loss OF time the old piper flew
to the houses OF the different neighbors to
acqnaint them with the newly discovered
facts, and consult with them as to what
was best to be done. 1t was quietly de-
cided to collect all the wheat yet remain
ing in the several barns, and carry it at
once to Cornilles mill.
No sooner thought OF than accomplish
ed, and the entire population Of the village
joined in the procession which speedily
arrived at the mill, accompanied by a long
string Of mules, each laden with bursting
sacks of wheat-real wheat this time.
The door, for the first time in months,
stood wide open. Before it was Father
Cornille, seated upon one Of his torn
sacks OF plaster his gray head bowed upon
his hands, and hot tears falling thickly
from between his withered fingers. The
poor old man had evidently just discover
ed that during his absence from the mill
some one had entered through the open
window; and his treasured secret was his
own no longer.
Alasl wretched old man that ] am he
there is nothing left me but to
die. My mill is dishonored my secret dis
coveredl aud his bitter sobs wrung the
very souls of the simple minded listeners,
who understood, too late, that to the old
miller, his mill had been as fondly loved
child, whose dishonor was bowing his
white hair to the very dust
At that instant the mules reached the
platform upon which the mill stood, and
the villagers cried out cheerily, as in the
good old days Halloa millerl Halloa,
Father Cornille! And before the sound Of
their gay voices had died away, q great
pile Of sacks stood upon the stones before
the door, all brimming over with beautiful
red wheat, which covered the ground up
on every side
Father Cornille lifed his head and slow
ly rubbing his tear dimmed eyes, looked
about him in utter bewilderment Then
rising from his seat; he seized greedily a
handful Of wheat, and turning it over in
his withered palm, muttered half laugh
ing and half crying:
Yes, yes, it is wheat, red wheat. Oh!
my good Lord ripe, real wheat give it to
ne, let me touch it, to be quite, quite
,urel
Then, looking at his old friends with re- !,
proachful gaze, the old man added half
All yes. | knew well that in time you
Tonld return to me, every one Of you; !,
hose rascals at the steam mills are poison
RS and thieves Have not said so from
he hrst' and did not do my bes. to pre-
'eut you going to them'
In the first ardor Of their sympathy and ,
elf rcproach the neighbors would have
born Cornills In triumph In The villaga