The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1890-10-15
about, pulling his mother toward the
little vendor of toys.

quired in familiar and kindly manner;
for children are fraternal with each
other before they are spoiled by con-
ventionality. HAS some one hurt
your"
He sighed, but could not answer
The little invalid insisted "Come,
now, tell me why you are weeping?"
Charles wiped his eyes with his sleeve,
but his tears, wetting the mud remain
ing on it from his former efforts,
it left gray scar on his troubled visage,
extending from his right eye to his left
ear. Between his signs, in broken SEN
fences, he tried to explain.
"I-am- not crying-hou-h ou !!
ne-has-hurt-me. NOLAN
not - crying only my cuirassiers,
my fine cuirassiers!"
"Very we'll Have you not been
paid for them?"
eyes, but | love them so much.
They are so handsome; when | have
them all there before me, look at
them with so much pleasure! But |
dare not touch them because papa has
forbidden it. Then when they are all
gone | weep, for | would like so much
to have one all to myself"
/" And have you not asked your
father for one?"
" Yes, but papa is poor and can not
afford it. He needs all the money for
u.s.
The little invalid looked at him with
gentle but astonished eyes.
"Then one would make you very
| hopnyoi, ha oska1
"Oh, yes, indeed" sobbed Charles
with new flow of tears. Then CASTOR
reached him his toy.
Here, take mine! | give it to you
and you can keep the twenty sous, toow
Charles Froer feared he did not hear
aright-dared not believe his ears
Nevertheless, he half reached out his
hands with curled fingers, wide open,
sparkling eyes, half-smling while hest
tating to believe in his happiness.
May / not give it to him, mamma!
Are you not willing?"
"Surely, my darling!" said the
mother in deep emotion, putting her
hand in her pocket, but suddenly with
drawing it she murmured:
Perhaps his self-denial will win
him more of heaven!" and she disap-
peared in the crowd with her physically
deformed but undetermined child.
Charles Froer returned to Acacia
street. His account was correct; for
his twenty curassiers he returned
twenty francs. He even took it with
him to the boulevard, fearing that if he
left it at home that his father might
find it and make him resell it, This
continued through all the cold month
of December; but the little street ven
der was now merry, and his voice,
though still feeble, was no longer sad
when he cried:
"The cuiAssiers, fine cuirassiers, for
twenty sous"
Two months passed, in which Charles
had not seen the little invalid, but the
gift was daily JOY and reminder of the
giver. One evening he heard his
father say: "Gaston Lembally, the
son of our house owner, is very ILL.,"
Charles felt sharp pain in his heart,
and large tears filled his eyes. Two
days after his father again said: " Gas
ton Lembally, the son of the proprie-
tor, is dead"
Charles shut himself into the closet
where he slept. In bed he drew the
sheet over his head and wept, hardly
knowing why. He dozed, but con-
tinued to weep in his dreams. Two
days more he saw the large door of the
house hung with black drapery, bear
ing in silver the initials, e.. l.. On
table at the entrance, beneath the
wreaths of flowers, and lighted by wax
candles, was little casket, not larger
than would have been required for
child of five years. When it passed
out under the hangings many friends
followed it. But far behind the pro-
cession, more unkempt than usual, his
hands still deep in the pocket of his
cOrduroys, Charles Froer followed. The
sky was covered with a pail of dark
gray, and at times flakes of half-melted
snow were beaten by strong gusts of
wind into the face and eyes.
Truly, living in such a time was not
cheerful; it was a happy thing for little
CASTOR to go, away to country where
the children of the rich who had been
good to those of the poor here below
would meet and play and love each
other, and never know cold or want.
Charles did not dare enter the church,
but fingered in the vicinity until he
could join the procession in its slow
movement towards the cemetery of
Montmartre. He kept far away from
every one while the remains of his
little benefactor were being hid away
forever. He felt almost ashamed to
he there, as if it were bad action, not
having been invited by any one. And
he trembled for the safety of his COM
pany of cuirassiers which he dared to
leave in charge of friendly comrade,
unknown to his father, that he might
follow, even afar in the mourners' line,
weeping for his little friend He also
avoided the keepers, fearing they might
chase him away. Men, women and
little children, friends of the dead boy,
passed back through the gate, and
CASTOR was left forever under the cold
of the wet earth. 1t was then that
Charles timidly approached, looking
behind him to see if he was watched
No, he was entirely alone. With care
and tenderness he drew from his deep
pocket the wooden cuirassier.