The weekly messenger. [volume] (St. Martinsville [i.e. St. Martinville] La.) 1886-1948, 1888-07-21

kerchiefs that hung from the awning
overhead.
Iwould fain have interceded for the
trembling, painting culprit; but my
aunt promptly delivered her over to the
nearest policeman, agreeing to appear
against her in court the next morning,
while a mob of men, women and chill
dren, who might have assembled from
the cracks in the pavement, so instantly
did they appear, collected around the
door, in various stages of frantic curios-
ity.
And this was the home for which
had so foolishly left the sweet old farm
house under the New Hampshire maple
trees. II ever poor mortal was wretch
edly homesick, it was 1.
At last, Aunt Jocasta tied on a
snuffy old bonnet, that looked as if it
might have been slept in every night
for a week, and announced her inten-
tion of "runnin' around" to friend Of
hers for few minutes.
1.-THE shop is shut" said she, "and
you can pull out the bedstead and
go to bed any time you please. I'll let
myself in with a night-key when l come
ia."
/ gazed mournful,y at the uninvting
old sofa, which was eventually to be
transformed into my resting place; and
then was the time, left all alone by the
light of kerosene lamp, that smoked
badly, in which 1 tasted the keenest
bitterness of my lonely lot.
The rustling of the maple trees under
Goose berry mountain, the rush of White
Cascade, the hooting of owls in the
trackless forcst-all those sounds would
have been as music to my ears COM
pared with the mufflcd roar of wheels,
the rise and fall of distant voices, the
indescribable murmur of city life that
surrounded me hero.
Just then peculiar sound struck on
my ear-the grating of key in a lock.
started up every word that had ever
read or heard of the audacity of New
York burglars recurring freshly to my
mind. The sound still continued. 1t
was nearer than had at first mag
ined.
Irosc up, trembling, and shraak back
into the darkest corner of the room, as
tail, dark haired young man came
stealthily in, with a light cloak thr own
picturesquely across one shoulder.
But then l remembered my duty to
Aunt Jocasta- That must be performed
at all hazards. And Selling up the old
fashioned brass warming pan which
stood on one end in the corner, / rushed
at him without seconds delay.
go away from here" Icried. "Po-
lice! Help! help! Policel Go away
this momentw
had the satisfaction OF hearing nv
brass warming pan ring a lively salute
against the head of my amazed enemy;
but just at that moment 1 caught my
foot in rip in the carpet and fell head
long to the floor, warming-pan and all
In a second, my Antagonist, minus the
hat which my implement of warfare
had knocked of, stood over me.
"You little vixenw said he. "What
ought to do to you1 What do you
think you deserved"
'Police!' 1 shriekei, rcsolute to the
last, although sickening sensation of
pain thrilled through every nerv,, and
/ knew that my left elbow was bent un-
der me.
But the word died away into moan.
"Are you hurt2" the burglar asked.
IL think I've broken my ARM"
walled. but, oh, please 60 away!
Reflect what an awful thing it is to
break the commandment about stealing
You are young yet-at least you don't
look very old and surely you can't be
entirely hardened to life of sin. Please
promise never to do so any more---and
I'll let yougo this time. Only PROMISE"
The tall burglar was looking down at
me with grave, solicltous face, across
which came shadow of amuse ment at
my words.
you'll let me go, willsyou9' said he.
Every considcrate of you. I'm sure.
But the question is now how to get you
up from the floor without hurting you.
You seem to be all tangled up in that
rass cOncarp thoro