The Douglas independent. [volume] (Roseburg, Or.) 187?-1885, 1884-11-01
gether in the nave, actually holding
kb oir breath from terror

People trampled each other on the
pulpit stairs behind the altar on either
side of the sanctuary railing. Prayer
books, chaplets, benches, stools, can
dlesticks and censors were scattered on
the floor. The beadle had barricaded
himself within the confessional; the
chanter, whose face was fully lit by
gush of light from the window, was
livid, and his knees were knocking to-
gether almost violently enough to
break the bones. A little boy that had
squeezed himself under big chair
thrust out from betwixt the rungs
face comically distorted by tears of
terror. The sacristan had run up the
steeple stairs, and was ringing the bell
with all his might, as if there was
confagr alton to be extinguished. The
few women who had succeeded in get
ting out of the church with the first
rush, were running through all the
streets of the village, throwing up
their arms, and screaming for help.
The priest alone who, from the
height of his pulpit-had seen the wild
beast walk quietly away tried to re-
establish some calm among the faithful.
But his voice was lost in the tumult of
the panic; and already, from all the
houses, drinking places, club-rooms,
taverns, etc., men were running to the
scene armed with Lefaucheux revolvers,
pitchforks, spits, and billiard queues.
The lion, indeed, had very quietly re-
traced his way to the menagerie, as
soon as he had heard the beadle's hall
berd fall on the church pavement
Madame Auguste at once rushed at her
boarder, raining lashes upon him
with her whip, and hurried him into the
cage, with many kicks in the hinder
portion of his emaciated body.
But the whole village had been ter
rifed.
Headed by the ax-collector, who had
taken down an old revolver from his
panoply, the peasants poured into the
booth and, in spite of the supplications
and even tears of the Hon-tamer, who
clasped their knees in her vain despair,
they put the muzzles of their weapons
to the poor brute's head and blew his
brains out. One peasant even carried
his ferocity so far as to shove billiard
cue down the lions throat. The
village folks seemed to have been
wrought up to pitch of unheard- of
fury; and every possible term of abuse,
invective, and insult were lavished upon
the wretched animals carcass.
"And now," shouted the tax collector
to Nine. Auguste, who had almost
tainted with grief, "now this will teach
you that [ have never been afraid OF
lions!"
Madame Auguste long remained
motionless with grief and despair. Her
lion represented all her earthly posses
sions, her only resources s-besides, he
his submission, his docility, were extra
| ordinary. She would not think of re-
manning any longer in the midst of such
people; and she gave orders to pack up
and leave town that very evening.
But at the approach of nightfall the
sky clouded up quickly and heavily. A
| furious wind came whistling through
the trees, tearing away the leaves and
whirling them abroad, and the thunder
began to roar in the distance.
Nevertheless, Madame Augustes two
wagons left the village by the high road.
The storm burst over the country. Be.
tween the shafts of the travelling wagon
trotted great big mule from whose
fanks the rainwater poured in streams
The old horse who pulled the other
vehicle containing the carcass of the
lion, hung his head sadly under thS
furious downpour. The thunder rolled
madly overhead; and, by the light O.
the lightning, Madame Auguste showed
her tear streaming face at the little
back window of her wagon and at in
tervals flung the epithet, towards! intt
the great tumult of the tempest.