Burlington weekly free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1866-1928, 1884-01-18

| hii' tu'u ~ VuulV HuNc uOne you any
good, i,would not have flung away my
bread"
"No harm douo," said the soldier 81
am not 80 onsllN put off my appetite"
"Na matter, said the duke 81 did
what was wrong aud regret It. Bat DO
NOT want You % carry away q bad i'm.
! preston Of me. and us l have some I'D
coR4oc in my flask, by Joyo, wen have a
nip together
The man had finished eating. The
duke and he took n mouthful of brandy
and ncquaintanceship was formed.
And your namo?" said the soldier.
'Hlrdimont," replied the duke, sup
pressing his title. "And yours ?"
jean Victor. | nave only Just been
sent back to the company. lam Just ont
of the hospital. [ was wounded Mt Cha
tillon. All it is comfortable place is
the hospital there the doctor gives you
excellent horse-soup. But | had only n
scratch the major signed my discharge.
and, SO much the worse. begin AGAIN TO
ole OF hunger. For you may believe me
or not, comradc, [ have been hungry all
my life, Just MS | am now
The declaration was appalling, uttered
as it was to a voluptuary who had Just de-
tected himself regretting the cookery of
the Cafe Anglais, and the Duke de Hardi-
mont looked at his companion with an air
of terrified establishment. The soldier
wore sad smile, which disclosed his
teeth, the teeth Of wolf, the teeth of a
starving man, SO white in that clay-color-
ed face, and, as if he understood that an
explanation was expected, he said:
Look here. Let us walk up midtown
tA I ,,.,1
tell you things of which am sure You
have never heard.
"My name is jean Victor-Jean- Victor
for YVES founding, aud my only happy
recollections are those of my carly child
hood in the hospce Our little beds in
the dormitory had white curtains we
used to play in the garden, under the big
trees, and there was good sister. quite
young, pale as Il wax-candle-she was 60
ing off in consumption-whose pet was,
and | liked better to walk with her thar
to play with the other children. because
she drew me close to her as she laid on
my brow her thin, burning hand
But when | was twelve, after my first
communion. nothing but want The
trustees apprenticed me to a chair-mend-
er in the Fanbourg st. Jacques. It is
not trade, You know. and no one can
make living at it, And so it was there
that [ began to suffer from hunger The
old master and his wife (who wcrc after
ward murderod) were terrible misers the
very loaf of which they cut Won a thin
little slice at meal times was kept under
lock and key the rest of the day and in
the evening Mt supper you should have
seen the mistress, with her black cap,
signing and grooming at every dip OF the
ladle Ill the soup-tureen. There were two
other apprentice lads from the blind asy-
lum, and they were less unhappy; they
had no more than I, bat they ut least did
not see the reproachful looks OF the wick
ed old woman when she held out my plate.
But just here was the trouble | already
had fierce appetite. Was that my fault,
[ say?
Il passed there three years Of appren-
tlccshlp, ravruOus the time. Three
years The business could be learned in
a month, but the trustees cannot know
everything, and never suspect that people
make money out Of the children. Al 4
you are astOnlshed to see me pick bread
out Of the mud. Why, | am used to il
have picked many II crust out OF the
ash-barrei, and when they were too dry
would let them soak all night in my water
basin.
''To be honest about it, however, ] had
sometimes streahs Of luck; I would light
on bits Of bread nibbled at one end, such
as the boys pull out of the bags and
throw on the foot-path when they come
out of school. I made it point always
to pass that way when | went on errands.
And then, when my apprenticeship
was ended, had only trade which, as |
told you, would not keep man in food.
Oh | have tried other trades am not
afraid OF work, look you. | have worked
for the masons, been shop-boy, sweep
er what do 1 know besides Bah 4
sometimes there was no work other
times l lost my place. In short, [ never
had enough to eat. All confound it !
what rage | have often been in when
passing bakery Fortunately for me at
these times, | always remembered the
good sister in the hospice, who SO often
told me to be honest, and believed [ felt
on my brow the warmth of her little
hand.
cat last, at eighteen I enlisted You
know as well as l the private soldier has
Just about enough. Now-it's almost fit
to make one laugh-here come siege and
famine. You see, / did not lie to you
moment ago, when l told you that / had
always, always been hungry -