The Penn's Grove record., 1883-12-08

After these years passed away. Louis
Philippe had been forced to fee from
his capital and from his kingdom; La
maritime had been President of the
Grand Republic, and had passed from
power; and Louis Napoleon had been
elected President, and was already
thinking Of beng emperor, when, on a
cold, clustering winters evening, the
Able Augustine st. Almond, now a
white-haired old man, found himself on
a strange road, upon the southern
boarder of the great Dournay Forest.
He had set out from Dion on a journey
that should have occupied a week-had
set out alone, on a good horse, not anti
cipating so sever a storm.
AT length, fairly benumbed with cold,
and fearful of, the worst, he discovered,
through the thickly whirling snow, a
light directly ahead. He gave thanks
to God, and pushed on, and very soon
he came into the court of a large farm
house. the barns and numerous other
out-buildings of which he could plainly
distinguish. He had strength enough
to slip from his saddle and kick with
his foot upon the door. His abrupt
summons was answered by a man, who
came with a lantern in his hand. The
able had started to tell his situation,
when the nan laid a strong hand upon
his arm and pulled him into the hall.
Tell your story, man, where there Is
more of comfort than is to be found out
in the storm. Have you a horsef"
Upon receiving an Affirmative answer,
the mar gave the lantern to a stout
boy, and babe him go out and see that
the horse had comfortable quarters and
plenty of food.
Then the able was led to a large sit
ting room, where a bright faced, pretty
girl, of fifteen, or thereabouts, was set
ting out the supper-table. The mother
was in the kitchen, engaged in cooking
for the meal; while three children,
younger than the girl first mentioned,
were sitting neal the fire, two Of them
engaged in p%eeling chestnuts. The
guest saw all this before he had remov-
ed his overcoat. He knew not why it
should be SO, but he had a strange
sense of home-llke feeling. 1t seemed
to him as though he had a particular
right to be here. Had the house been
his own, he could have not felt more
inclined than he felt when he had COM
pleted his swift survey of the comferta-
BILE and cheerful apartment.
And during this brief space the host
had been as busily watchful as the
guest had been. The sacerdotal garh
had first attracted the farmers notice,
and then he looked at the aged face.
He looked, and a great light shone in
his eyes, and a glow of happiness over
spread his kindly face, He helped the
guest to remove his g~reat-coat; then
caused him to sit in a chair, when he
| went down upon his knees, and began
to pull off the wet boots, and chill,
damp stockings. Then he brought dry
stockings, and warm, soft slippers; and
very soon the able was as comfortable
as could be.
"There, good father, the host said,
when he had done all that he could
think of "what more can l do towards
your comfort before our poor supper is
ready?"
"Indeed, my son." the guest return.
ed, deeply moved, ''you have already
thought of more than l could have
asked for. You have made my body
comfortable; and you have warmed my
heart. which is better than all else"
The host bowed, but offered no fur
Their response; and after a little time
the guest went on:
"Your attention to NY comfort, my
son, has more than gratified me- it has
surprised me. l am an old man, as my
frosty brow must show; yet you are the
first person who ever knelt at my fee
to do me service"
"Ah!" said the host, with more feel
ing than the occasion would seem to
call for on his part, 1--WE may some time
| entertain an angel unawares. / have,
ere this, seen an angel in an abbe's
garb."
The able started. He looked ear
nestly into the mans face, and the
truth burst upon him. 1t was the male
actor, whom, more than quarter of Q
century before, he had helped to escape
from the little old chapel of the Mar
mont Castle. He was about to speak,
when the other placed his finger upor
his lips. Then he said. in a whisper:
"My wife, to whom ! will shortly
introduce you, knows everything; but
not so my children"
The able understood, and was silent.
Shortly afterwards the wife-Madam
Lamont-entered. 81 am Jean La.
mont" he whispered and then:
"Jean, whom do you think h storm
has sent to us?"
She saw the great tears starting from
his eyes and coursing down his cheeks
and she knew before he had Spoken
another word. Yet he went on:
ut isl
"Ihe Able Saint Arm0nd'" she cried
as he broke down.
Yes" said the guest, 81 am the
poor abbe."
She caught his hand, and pressed bel
lips upon it. Then, to her children
who were looking on wonderingly, she
said:
"My children-once-a great many
years ago-when your father vas il
mortal peril-when he woald have beer
a dead man before another SUI had set
had it not been for the noble devotion
of one man of all the world-in thai
supreme hour the one man anne anC
eox,ad him aud fhia ia thu mani TIL.