St. Tammany farmer. [volume] (Covington, La.) 1874-current, 1886-11-13

shall stay"
And thereupon NJ. Seguin carried the
goat into a dark stable, and shut the
door and locked it. Unfortunately he
forgot the windows, and as soon as his
back was turned the little goat made
her escape.
You laugh, Gringoire? l dare say!
You are on the side of the goats,
against good NJ. Seguin. We shall see
whether you will laugh presently.
When the white goat reached it. the
mountain was filled with delight. The
old fir trees had never seen any thing
SO lovely. They received her like a
little queen. The chestnut trees bent
down to the ground to caress her with
the tips of their branches. The golden
broom parted before her to let her pass,
and sent out its sweetest smell. The
whole mountain rejoiced over her.
You may imagine. Gringoire, wheth-
er our goat was happy. No more
tether, no more stake. Nothing to pre-
vent her gamboling about and brows-
ing at her own sweet will. What
grass there was there! Over the tops
of her horns. Such grasses, thousands
of different kinds. fine and scented and
delicate, very different from the grass
of that field And what flowers! Great
blue harebells and purple fox-gloves
with long calixes, whole forest of
wild flowers overfiowing with intoxi-
eating juices! The white goat, half
drunk, reveled among them. and rolled
down the slopes pell-mell with the fallen
leaves and the chestnuts. Then all at
once she would spring to her feet.
Hop. She was off again, through the
bushes and the underwood. now on the
top of point. now at the bottom of a
ravine, up, down. everywhere; you
would have said there were ten NJ.
Seguin's goats on the mountain.
And she was afraid of nothing, Blan-
quette. With one bound she sprang
across wide torrents that sprinkled her
with their spray and foam as she
passed. Then streaming wet, she would
lie down to dry herself in the sun upon
some flat rock. Once leaning over the
edge of a plateau, with cystisus
flower in her mouth, she caught sight
of M. Seguin's house with the field
behind it, far, far down in the plain.
And she laughed till she cried at tho
sight of it.
.How small it isr' cried she; "how
could I ever have lived in it?"
Poor little thing! Up there 50 high.
she fancied she was as big as the whole
world. 1t was splendid day, ON the
whole, tor NJ. Seguin's goat! Toward
the middle of the day as she was rum
ming about from one place to another,
she came upon herd of chamois who
were RECALLING themselves with wild
vine. Our little rover in her white
dress created quite a sensation. They
gave her the best place in the vine,
and the gentlemen were all very polite.
It seems even-but this is between our
selves, Gringoire young black
haired chamois was lucky enough to
please Blanquette. The lovers strolled
away into the woods for an hour or
two, and if you want to know what
they said to each other, ask the chat
tering spring that run hidden under
the moss.
All at once the wind began to fresh
en-. The mountain turned violet; the
evening had come. Already said
the little goat. and she stood still in
surprise. Down below the meadows
were bathed in mist. M. Seguin' 8 field
was lost in the fog and there was moth
ing to be seen of the house but the roof
and little smoke; she listened to tho
bells of the herds that were being driv-
en- home, and her soul grew sad. A
falcon flying home brushed her with
his wings as he passed. She trembled.
Then she heard long howl upon tho
mountain: How! Howr'
She thought of the wolf; all day long
the foolish creature had never thought
of him. At the same moment a trumpet
sounded far away in the valley. Kind
NJ. Seguin was making last attempt
How! howl" howled the wolf.
"Come backi come back!' cried the
trumpet.
Blanquette had half a mind to go
home; but when she remembered the
stake, and the cord, and the hedge of
the inclosure, she thought that she
should never be able to bear that life
now. and that she had better stay
where she was. The trumpet no longer
sounded. The goat heard a rustling in
the leaves behind her. She turned, and
in the shadow she saw two short erect
ears. and two eyes that glittered. It
was the wolf.
There he was, large, motionless,
sitting on his launches, watching the
little white goat and relishing her al
ready As he knew that he should eat
her, the wolf was not in any hurry;
only when she turned round, he began
to laugh cruelty: "Ha! ha! NJ. Seguin's
little goat" and he licked his fabby
chops with his great red tongue.
Blanquette gave herself up for lost.
For one moment, when she remem-
bered the story of old Renaude, who
had fought all night long to be de-
voured in the morning, she thought
that after all perhaps she had better
let herself be eaten up at once; then
thinking better of it, she prepared to
defend herself, lowering her head and
sticking out her horns, like NJ. Seguin's
brave little goat as she was. Not that she
had any hope of killing the wolf-goats
don't kill wolves-but only to see if she
could hold out as long as Renaude.
Then the monster advanced and the
little horns came into play. All! the
brave little goat! She went at it with
. will, More than ten times, l am
speaking the truth, Gringoire. she
forced the wolf to draw back to take
breath. During these momentary res
pites the little gourmand hastily gath
cred another blade of her beloved grass
and then returned to the combat with
her mouth full And SO it went on the
live-long night. From time to time
NJ & L A. 49,