Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1889-11-06
From the Youths Companion.
JEANS PORTMANTEAU.

JIAN y FUhl MAN IIAUs
NV story dates back nearly twenty
years, but it is a true story, and its sig
nifcance is as forcible and fresh as If
the incidents had occurred but yester-
day.
In 1920 there was living in the
northern part of Alabama an
old Frenchman whom we shall call
Jean Paulet. He was younger son ut
a noble family in Avignon, had come, a
mere lad, to fight for the cause of free
dom in this country under Lafayette,
and had borne himself well and bravely
until the battle of Brandywine, where
he lost his right arm, aud was obliged
to leave the service.
His father was guillotined during the
Reign of Terror in Paris. Jean es-
capped, returned, with the young wife
whom he had married, to this country,
and found his way to village IN Ala
bama to which many French refugees
had fed.
When the little money which they
had brought with them was spent, they
scattered. Many of them made their
way back to France. Jean Paulet, with
his one child, Rose, a girl of II. re-
NAMED. His wife was dead. Jean
earned small sum occasional lily by
teaching French to the children of the
neighboring planters. He and Rose
we're happy and merry as two children,
but often they were hungry, and al
ways shabbily clothed.
One day, as usual, old Judge Pope
called at Paulet's cabin to smokesa pipe
with him.
"Mosheer," he said. ST have an idea
Why have you never applied for pen
sion? The country has owed it for
many gears. The back payments will
amount to a considerable sum-"
do you mean Eat re Republique zail
pay for the service | give it 2" He
drew himself up stify. 'No, sare
Jean Psulet offered his body and his
lie to ze help of ze American people.
His body and his life vas crippled for
dem, but zey will not insult me by pay
ing me for dat'
Nonsense |" was the Judges irrever-
emit reply to this outbreak of patriot
ism. "You owe your strength to your
child. Having spent it for the country
IN her need, it is only just that she, in
her prosperity, shall help you in your
care of Rosy here"
The Frenchman' s face glowed.
All, Eat is a different light on it 1t
is great noble country and it cares for
re children of re soldiers! I am will
ing to receive aims from it, but not
pay II
'sAnyhow you like, 80 you get the
money!" said the Judge. "Let me see
your papers-the proofs that you lost
your arm in the service" He exam
ined them refully.
They're all right" ne said. "Now,
Mosheer, you must take these to Wash
ington. will write to our congress
man TO attend to the affair. Rosy
shall stay With us. You must start to-
morrow
Monsieur Paulet changed color, and
hesitated painfully.
''Yes, yes, my dear fellow, I under
stand 1t is a long journey, and you
are out of funds just now. You must
draw on me. | am often out of
funds myself, and you will be rich
man when you come back. Then I will
draw on you. 1t is all settled
The kindly but peremptory old Judge
had his way. Rosy was taken out to
the plantation, and received with de-
light by Mrs. Pope, the children, and a
swarm of young negroes, with all OF
whom the viyacious French child was a
pet.
Monsieur Paulet, in a new suit of
clothes, his paper. money and ticket in
Judge, was escorted by almost all the
population of the village to the inn
from which he was to begin his Jour
ney, and departed, loaded with prayers
and good wishes for good luck.
1t is hard for the young people of the
present time to understand the travel
ing of those days. Jean Paulet started
in November Tor Washington on horse
back. When he reached the Ohio
River, where he expected to take boat
it was frozen over. Then began a long
and perilous journey in an open sled
along the banks. 1t was late in Janu-
airy when he reached Wheeling, w. Va,
the terminus OF the National Road.
He was exhausted and feeble, and his
money nearly spent, but he was thank
full, sure now that his troubles were
over.
Stage-coaches ran regularly between
Wheeling and Baltimore. Poor little
Monsieur climbed into one of these one
stormy day at noon, and, wrapping
himself in his blanket. deposited his
portmanteau IN the straw at the bottom
of the coach, and curling himself up on
the seat, slept heavily. He did not
waken until the coach drew up in lit
tie village in Pennsylvania, long after
night all.
Inc inn door STOOD open, ana SaVOry
smell of supper poured out. Several
coaches, with their teams OF prancing
ing horses. stood in the great lnn-yard,
and hostlers, guards and drivers were
stamping about, scoldIng and swearing.
Twenty minutes for supper !" shout
ed the guard in the window at Mon
sieur. Jean, who mas the only passen-
ger, crawled out sleepily, and hurried
into the warm supper room.
.fhere seems to be grand concourse
of re coach here" he said to negro
waiter.
Eyes, sab. It is one of the big sta
tons on the road. Old Samuel Boyce
lives here. He's superintendent of the
stage line. A big owner, too. That is
Dir. Boyce, sab, fourishing his napkin
toward a short, untidy old man, who
stood with his back to the fire peering
through his spectacles at the psssen-
gers. His bald head rose red and shin
ing above his little ferret-like ewes; the
snuff which he took necessarily dabbled
his dirty, ruffied shirt front.
Monsieur, however, paid no attention
TO the old man, but hastily ate his sup
per, paid for it, and hurried out to the