Juniata sentinel and Republican. [volume] (Mifflintown, Juniata County, Pa.) 1873-1955, 1889-07-24
JEANS LETTER.
The Strange Way in Which It was
Written and Answered.


n letter TO the Holy Virgin, he, only six
years of age, with trousers worn at the
knees, blonde hair thick and curly, and
a pair of great blue eyes that still tried
10 smile a little, though they spent
nearly all their time in crying. His
tile coat was well cut and of good ma
term, but falling to rags; on his right
foot was girls boot, on his left a
.cOlle1ian's shoe. both of them too big
r him, too wide and too long, and
full # O.es, displaying his toes IN front
and lacking in heels behind.
Within; too. he was cold and hungry,
for L. was a bitter W nter morning. and
he had had no food since neon the day
before. Yes, he would write letter o
tine Holy Virgin, and since he could
neither read OF write, let me tell You
how lie did it.
Over beyond the home of this little
Jean, in the quarter of the Gros-Cail-
lou, at the corner of the avenue, there
Glanced TO lie the stall OF a Public
WIIter one of these men whose busi-
ness it was to do the letteT-writing OF
all those people who could not write
for themselves. In the case L speak of
the Public Writer was also an old sold
ier. a trlfe Grabbed, but very good
before his stall, through the dingy glass
of his little window, TRANQUILITY smoking
MS pipe and waiting for customers.
Good mOrningi' said Jean as he tn
tered, for Jean was very polite, good
morning; and have come, if you
pleas b, 10 get you to write me a letter.
Ten SOUL said Father Bouin, for
this worthy man, who was possibly the
hundred thousandth part of Marshal
of France in glory, called himself by
this simple title, ten sous for letter"
Jean, who had neither hat nor cap,
and therefore could not lift it, turned
about with d civil:
Then excuse me'
But Father Bouin, finding him so
genteel, laid his hand upon his shou der
and stopped him.
Are you the son of soldier, little
on6?' he demanded.
No, only mammals son, responded
Jean, and she has no one but me-"
'GOodl-and you have not the ten
souSI'
'Oh, no, have not even one sour
Il see-nor thy mother, eitheri But
tell me, little one, is 1t to make the
soup Gomez
Exactly said Jean, laughing, 'tO
make the soup come
Bon! begin then-ten lines on half
sheet Will that do yOu?'
And Father Bouin spread out his
paper, linked his pen and traced at tue
top of the page in the elegant hand
writing of a quartermaster. which in
truth he had once been. Paris, jan
uary II, IS then on the line be-
meath 1t Monsieur
Monsieur whoY' he cried, quick, go
On-how Is lie calledI'
'He?-how-wh It?' said little jean
The gentleman
what gentleman?'
The one to make the soup come"
This time Jean comprenended-
But it isn't a gentleman he objec-
ted.
'Ah, a lady then?'
'Yes-no-o; this is
Father BOuin lost his patience
In the name of goodness, little one,
lie shouted, don't you know to whom
you want to write letter?'
oh, yea said Jean, L know
but
speak, then, and hurry about itr
Jean opened his mouth, hesitated
aud turned red; not In the habit OF APP
plying TO Public Writers for cores
pondence of this kind, he found it very
embarrassing. However, he plucked
up courage and be-an
1t IS to the Holy Virgin said he,
that l wish to send i letter. but
stopped astounded, for Father Bnuin
had thrown down his pen, jerked his
pipe from his mouth and regarded him
with an indignant air.
Little one said he, presently, 4
hope you are not making fun OF an old
man, and as you are too little for me 10
slap. march quick, get out of my shop
for fear mayr
Jean, still more bewildered, turned
On his heels, or feet, rather, since heels
lie had none; and Father Bouin, finding
him so gently submissive, reconsidered
his words and looked at him ob5eTv-
Rntly.
Name of names!' he growled, ''hoS
much misery there is in this Parisl
And your nlme, baby-what do you
call yourselfY'
jean
lean what?'
Nothing but Jean
Father Bouin's eyes filed, but he
blew his nose fiercely and continued:
And l am to tell the Virgil
what?'
That mamma has been asleep since
4 O'Clock yesterday, and L want her, If
he will be so kind, 10 wake her, Tor
cannotr
\ sudden lump rose in the old sold
| ier's throat, but he was afraid to I'M
derstaud; he choked it down and went
on:
But the soup-why did you talk of
soup awhile ago?'
.Why-I had to- said Jean; mann
ma, before she went to sleep. gave me
the last piece of bread
Then she-your mamma-What dld
she eat?'
"Nothing; and for long time she
ALWAYS said she wasn't hungry
And YOU tired to wake her, you
say?'
Yes, kissing her, as 1 always did,
Did she breatheE
Jean looked up with a smile that
made him beautiful
Il don't know he replied, but
don't we always breatheg
This time the blast OF Father Bouin':
nose was like the sound of cavalry
Itrumpet-his voice low and broken.
! And when you kissed her, said he
/ dtd you-did you notice anythingP
oh. yes said the child, how cold
she wasLbut then it's always very cold
at our house
sol then she shivered, of coursep
No not a bit-she was just as still
as She could be-with her hands crossed
. on her breast Ike this, and so white
am pretty, and with her eyes wide oper
as n She were looking at the skiesP
And l. murmured the writer Z
himself. Il, who have food and fuel