The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1889-12-04
JEANS PORTMANTEAU.
BY REpEocA HARDING DAVIS.

BY REBECCA HARDING DAVIS.
My story dates back nearly seventy
years, but it is true story, and its sig
nifcance is as forcible and fresh as if the
incidents had occurred but yesterday.
In 1920 there was living in the north
ern part of Alabama an old Frenchman
whom we shall call Jean Paulet. He was
a younger son of noble family in Avig-
non, had come, mere lad, to fight for
the cause of freedom in this country un-
der Lafayette, and had borne himself well
and bravely until the battle of Brandy
wine, where he lost his right arm, and
was obliged to leave the service.
His father was guillotined during the
Reign of Terror of Paris. Jean escaped,
returned, with the young wife whom he
had married, to this country, and found
his way to a village in Alabama to which
many French refugees had fled.
When the little money which they had
brought with them was spent, they scat
tered. Many of them made their way
back to France. jean Paulet, with his
one child, Rose, girl of twelve, re-
NAMED. His wife was dead. Jean
earned small sum occasionally by teach
ing French to the children of the neigh.
boring planters. He and Rose were
happy and merry as two children, but
often they were hungry, and always
shabbily clothed.
One day, as usual, old Judge Pope
called at Paulet's cabin to smoke pipe
with him.
'.Mosheer," he said, "I have an idea I!
Why have you never applied for pen
siona The country mas owed it you for
many years. The back payments will
amount to a considerable sum-"
"Do you mean zat re Repnblique zall
pay me for re service l give itl" He
drew himself up stiffly. ''No, zare !!
Jean Baulet offered his body and his life
to re help of re American people. His
body and his life vas crippled for dem,
but zey will not insult me by paying for
datln
"Nonsensel" was the judges irrever-
ent reply to this outbreak of patriotism.
"You owe your strength to your child.
Having spent it for this co1ntry in her
need, it is only just that she, in her pros
perity, shall help you in your care of
Rosy here"
The Frenchhan's face glowed.
"Ah, ht is a different light on it, 1t
is great, noble country, and it cares for
re children of its soldiersl l am willing
to receive aims from it, but not payW
"Aayhow you like, so you get the
money!" said the Judge. ''Let me see
your papers-the proofs that you lost
your arm in the service" He examined
them carefully.
"They're all right, y he said. ''Now,
mosheer, you must take these TO Wash
ington. l will write to our Congress
raan 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, under
stand Ii 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 l will draw on
you. 1t is all settled"
The kindly but peremptory old judge
had his way. Rosy was taken out to tho
plantation and received with delight by
Mrs. Pope, the children and swarm
of young negroes with all of whom the
French child was pet.
Monsieur Paulet, in a new suit o.
clothes, money and ticket in a brown
portmanteau, belonging to the judge, was
escorted by almost all the population o.
the village to the inn from which he wa
to begin his journey, and departed, load
ed with prayers and good wishes foi
good luck.
1t is hard for the people of the present
time TO understand the travelling of thos,
days. Jean Paulet started in Novembe
for Washington on horseback. When h,
reached the Ohio River where he expect
ed to take boat, it was frozen over
Then began long and perilous journe,
in an open sled along the banks. 1t wa
late in January when he reached Wheel
ing, w. Va, the terminus of the Nationa
I Road.
He was exhausted and feeble, and hi
money was nearly spent, but he wa
thankful, sure now that his troubles wer,
over.
Stage-coaches ran regularly betweeI
Wheeling and Baltimore. Poor littlt
monsieur climbed into one of these on,
stormy day at noon, and, wrapping him
self in his blanket, deposited his port
manteau in the straw at the bottom of tn,
coach and curling himself up on the seat
slept heavily. He did not waken unit
the coach drew up in little village il
Pennsylvania, long after nightfall.
The inn door stood open, and SAVIOR,
smell of supper poured out. SeveTa
coaches, with their teams of pranoine
horses, stood in the great inn-yard, anC
hostlers, guards and drivers were stamp
ing about, scolding and swearing.
Twenty minutes for support" shouted
the guard in the window at monsieur
Jean, who was the only passenger
crawled out sleepily, and hurried into thu
warm supper-roOm.
a 4.