Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1883-10-20

force him to listen to me- half-hour later
leave with beaming face, for we have formed
plan which viii set everything right
The next evening reach the Miraul mansion
reading the paper, and the ladies are sewing. /
pay my respectsto every one Bycu included,
and take q seat.
.Well, father. what is the newsin the papera"
On! mon D,en hotaing In particular" re-
plies H. Miranl; politics, all political nothing
else"
"And in the miscellaneous items2"
81 never read them
''You make q mistake they are the most in
teresting part Of the paper. Permit me to read
which must be as tired as you yourself are
bored by all those political articles
''Oh, yes" cries Cecile, ''read to us while we
are sewing, Monsieur Adrien; that will be
lovely"
take the paper, and amready to begin. when
Madame Mraul complains of being thirsty
What luck! / rush out of the room. taking
with me the paper, which thrust into the
wood-box as pass. l ask the maid, who APP
pears in answer to my call, to bring me a
she is gone, take out of my pocket another
paper exactly like the one have lust put out of
sight. except that, thanks to my friend, the
Journalist, it has been especially prepared for
my use. Then return to the parior.
begin reading the miscellaneous items.
They think read WELL and urge me to con-
dnue. scan the paper for something interest
ing. Suddenly exclaim:
ooh! it cannot be possible! Mon Dieul But
yet. it must be true"
cession.
''Listen"
Yesterday there was buried man of marked
originality, chirOpodist named Saint Phar,
who was exceedingly skilful in his profession.
He died while attempting to practice his art
Immediately after too hearty dinner. He was
seized with apoplexy at the house of his patient.
M. de G., who received such a shock that the
physician called for the unfortunate Saint-Phar
who was already dead, was obliged to resort to
G. from going to join the chiropodist."
Madame Miraul rises, snatches the paper
from my hands. and reads the article, and
cries:
"Did mot tell you that the number thirteen
is always fatal May God send peace to the
soul of that man. How happy I am to be free
from my nightmare. Oh! my children, how
good is God!'
"Then, dear mother, we can set an earlier
day for our marriage2"
Eyes. my dears, the dreadful debt is paid,
and am eager to see you happy"
Three weeks later Cecile and we're married.
Ten months have passed in cloudless happi-
ness. To-day is the second of October and my
Ceclle has just presented me with son and
heir. The mother and child are both doing
ale rushing about the house, all the relatives
are arriving one after another, with congratu-
latiOns and good wishes In the midst OF our
happiness and excitement hear discussion
among the servants, and voice saying in the
most marked provincial accent:
81 tell you will come in; let me pass-I am
friend OF your MASTER"
The parlor door opens. Saint Phar, whom
have SO carefully bured-Saint-P har, in flesh
and blood-burts In, exclaiming:
"Ah! my friend, you must have thought me
dead. for it is Just year since had the honor
Of dining with the estimable family around me.
was summoned to Russia by great parsonage
VINO has made nae his attendant chirOpOdist and
mas heaped upon me extraordinary uonOrs. All
the gifts of fortune have come to me; am al
most rich. l obtained fortnights leave OF alb
sence, arrived this morning. and fastened to see
your friend, N. de BremOnd. He told me of
your happiness and have come to bring you
my congratulations and to assure you that you
Gid not entertain an ungrateful guest. but one
whose heart and stomach both hold you in re-
menbrance How glad | am to see you all to-
gether just year from that day! To-day We
are no longer thirteen. Thanks to Monsieur,
we are fourteen and possibly next year we shall
De fifteen. This little fellow needs sister,"
He opens mis- mouth wide and bursts out
laughing.
Madame Miraul looks at me. blush and drop
my head:
you deceived mel" she says.
Eyes, my dear mother; do you regret it? That
fixed idea would have killed you. My Cecile
would have died, and should not have sur
vived her. But now, instead of funerals, we are
all reunited for baptism, not one of us is mis-
sing from the number and it is the second OF
October. You see, my dear mother, that it is a
childish supersttution. and one to which we
ought not to yield Forgive my strategem, and be
persuaded that the stories about the number
thirteen, Friday and spilled salt are only nurses
tales And now, kiss your grandson, and be-
lieve no more in bad luck. And let US ali remem-
Der that the best way to show our gratitude to
Heaven for the happy days it grants us is to en-
Joy them with all our hearts"