Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1881-10-12
FAITHFUL MAN.

You have often socn him pass through
the fields with hasty tread, recognize
able not only by his blouse aud his
regulation hat, but also by the .ustain'
ed activity OF his movements because
for him the instants are com d and he
has not tho right TO slackci his pace,
An indeiatigablc walker he ,ccomplish'
es his task from the first h. the last day
of the year without even resting. No
matter though tropical sun invites all
creatures TO become motionless, though
tho cold be Siberian, though II blow
and snow, ho must 60 to the last vii
lage on his route to carry the letters,
newspapers sand prospcctnscs which trade
con6des by millions to tho care Of tho
post. :.
The highways arc not made for him !;
must he not cross tho country, passing
through woods and marshes, TO seek the
hut lost in the depths of tho solitude,
far removed from any public road9
He travels from eight to ton leagues
daily, making circuits, crossing brooks,
sealing rocks, venturing into nvines and
wounding himself among tho hedges
and briers. Lettering is forbidden to
him, for the official hour of return is
fixed; the letters he brings. back must
depart by the next mail. They are
waited for at tho post.oilice, and tho
least variation of his programme may
have grave consequences.
knew man who for twenty years
filed this position. A farmer soldior,
thanks to irreproachable records of SER
vice strengthened by q little influence,
he had obtained the great favor OF hav-
ing placed to his credit 80 francs per
month at the post-ollice of tho district.
Pere Martin was not very fond OF this
brilliant position, but he perfectly
understood his responsibility and duties;
he never complained.
Everybody in the district was nc
quainted with this little gray-haired
man with bronzeG features, whose limbs
had the pliancy and strength Of steel.
He was highly appreciated, for, while
scrupulous observer of tine regulations,
he never refused to perform a service,
provided it did not conflict with his
duties.
There was not corner Of his route
which he had not passed over, accom-
panied by his wolf-dog. He knew to a
meter the distance separating the small
est hamlet from the chief town OF the
district, and was familiar with all the
paths and by-ways.
One day in the middle OF October he
departed on his usual round. The
weather was frightful; it had been rain
ing necessarily for more than q week
the roads had become bogs and the
brooks had been transformed into tor
rents; what foliage that remained on
the trees was so impregnated with water
that it could not offer q protecting
shelter. The postman, wet to the skin,
walked with the impassibility of on old
soldier who does not discuss his orders.
He had distributed portion of his
mail, but his round was far from being
finished, when he passed an inn, OF
rather miserable drinking house, stu
ated at the entrance of a wood. This
place was mainly patronized by sabot
makers, who found there alcoholic
drinks and few groceries.
"Ho! Monsieur, the postman, stop
here for m instant; while you are civ
ing me the information need, the vio-
lence of the storm will abate."
This invitation was addressed to him
by man who, with pipe in his mouth,
was standing upon the threshold of the
drinking house.
The rain was pouring down at that
moment; fierce blast swept it into
Pere Martins face, prevented him from
, walking and bent to the ground the
stalwart trees.
The postman was little ahead OF
time, and the demands of the service do
not 90 so far as to forbid the accept
ance of momentary shelter when it
offers itself under such circumstances.
He, therefore, went into the house
and sat down beside the fire which
cracked on the hearth. The man who
had invited him to enter threw upon
it some dry branches, which were soon
in flames; heavy vapor arose from
Martins soaked garments.
The stranger interrogated the post
man as tc the hours of the departure Of
the mails, and asked him host Of
questions about himself, his service,
and everything concerning it.
"You know me, then?" said the post
man.
"Parbleu! Everybody loves and es.
teens you here; Pere Martins value is
we'll known. hope you will not re
fuse to drink with me. Ho! Madame
Roster, two glasses Of your best brandy"
A woman waited on them and return
ed 10 her occupation.
"Wbat q dogs trade you follow, Pere
Martin said the man. "Will it take
much longer to finish your round? You
doubtless have yet to go to the Landa
Grise, in Plessis. L know some one
who is impatiently waiting for you
there. 1 am obliged to pass in the vi
cinity. II You wish il 1 will relieve
you Of your letters"
"Thank you; l will deliver them my
self"