The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1885-09-26
Select Storp.
MY THIRTY-PIR BIRTHDAY.
From AU the Year Round.
CHAPTER MORNING.

CHAPTER l-MORNlNG.
Alas it is too true My first thought
on wakening is that [ have attained my
thirty-frst year on this 18th day of June.
The Able when taking his leave last night
made me promise that would write down
with care every event which is to happen
on this day, as marking my last of youth,
and bade me rise early that | might listen
to the warning he had prepared for me on
the occasion.
How will it be conveyed? By sacred
serenade or a bouquet of churchyard flow
ers Bah Life hath still some charm,
and can still look forward to the future
in spite of my advancing age" The
Able is a dear old soul, but takes life some
times rather gloomily. To besure [ never
told him last night that | had written to
Cousin Octave that, as he seemed too shy to
return home and come to my chateau
without a special invitation, sent him one
in due form to say that he must come at
once, and that | hoped he would leave for
ever that horrid Martinique, where he had
frittered away his youth, and fix himself
definitely in France. | did not suggest
how this was to be accomplished, but he
will know the meaning of the hint. He
cannot have forgotten the days when he
and had no need of words to know each
Others thoughts.
must say that my surprise was great
when Maitre Allard read my fathers will.
Never did dream that he would have left
his whole fortune at my own disposal,
without the tyranny of guardians or ham
pering of trustees, but all to be my own, to
be managed according to my own will and
pleasure The words were soothing to my
soul, for had always considered him cold
and harsh in sending poor Cousin Octave
away, although providing for him hand
somely in getting him appointed manager
of the great estate in Martinique belonging
to the company in which my father him
self was Director The condition was one
by which both of our hearts were well nigh
broken. "Never more, upon our faith and
honor, to seek to hold secret communication
with each other so long as my father lived. /"
And to think that the cruel decree was
maintained until his death released me
from the vow
Ten years of life All me But time
has wrought no change in my love for Oc-
tave-no alteration in the feelings of my
heart. Aye, but what change has it ac-
complished in myself?
What says the little looking glass that
Octave bought me at the fair of Suramy,
saying, as he handed me the fairing, that
| should there behold the face he thought
most lovely upon earth. That has not
changed, at all events, and in it | behold
the reflection of face, still fair, if not,
perhaps, so fresh as the one he beheld
through his tears, as he looked up at me
from the window of the carriage which
bore him away The complexion is some
what faded, and here and there | can per-
ceive silver streak among the curls, which
are still golden, although not quite so bright
a gold as when he left All, well Life
is not all made up of doubt and disappoint-
ment, as the Able declares We shall
have many merry days yet at the Char
miles. And Octave? Well, we shall be
happy together at last
What lovely morningl As l open my
window the lark is rising from the turf at
the foot of the hill, and as the slight mist
from the river clears away I can see the
village stirring in the village street. What
are they doing? They are actually lop-
ping off the branches of the lime trees, now
in full flower The bees are disturbed,
and the air is so clear that can see whole
swarms of them flying out in alarm. What
can be the meaning of this despoilment
Hal remember now; The Able told
me that he would remind the villagers that
this is my birthday, and although not of
such solemn Importance as the festival OF
the patron saint, they ought to note it by
some token of their gratitude for all the
good am trying to do with my newly ac-
1uired wealth. Now they are carrying the
boughs and branches of flowers to the
church. That may be perhaps the warn.
ing that the Able was to give me. All
five O'Clock the church clock strikes the
hour. And the Able, punctual as the
clock itself, is standing at the church door
He ushers in the peasants with their flow
ers, and scarcely has the last stroke re
sounded, deep, grave, and sonorous through
the atmosphere, when the angelus bell takes
up the strain and sounds clear and cheerily
over the valley. kneel down at the win.
dow and offer my prayer to the Virgin, re
peating the sweet Ave Maria to which thai
bell summons me by its nine strokes. But
what is this The angelus bell has tollec
its nine strokes as usual-and after pause
it begins again. The good Able must bC
forgetting the limit of his mornings task
But, no; the bell goes on tolling in steady
measured rhythm until it has struck more
notes than the salutation bell itself. Yes
ten now ten again When will it stop
Another ten and now pause at last
But stay One single stroke louder anC
more prolonged than all the rest. And a
last the tolIing ceases in reality. | see i
all This is the Abbe's warning. 'Tis
my thirty-frst birthday-the last year o
youth, the first of middle age.
CHAPTER II-NOON.
The day begins auspiciously, everything
combines to tighten the spirits and max,
the heart glad. The sunshine is most glo
rious, the meadows are in full flower, the
birds are singing joyously above my head
and the grass is blooming beneath my fee
as stroll across the lawn. Mother Natur
knows ne change The Charmilles will b.
found as beautiful as ever when all thos
who love the place are gone and forgotten
The dear. GOOD Able came to breakfas
with me, according to his promise, and
unfolded to him my whole heart. | spok