The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1890-10-15
Selected Storp.
The Fate of a Cuirnssier.


through fine sprinkler by gigantic
hand behind the clouds, which sailed
low in the chilly air. The bare
branches of the trees ratified as if they
were protesting against their ruthless
spoliation by the unsparing wind.
The street and pavements were COW
cred with thick, shiny mud, causing
pedestrians and horses to slip, and the
wheels to angrily spatter themselves
and all who had the misfortune to
approach them with the clingiDg sub
stance. 1t was cold, that peculiar
penetrating cold of the humid Partisan
climate in the short days of winter,
which pierces through wraps to the
very marrow. But in spite of the
singing slaps of the saucy wind, the
boulevard was full of people.
At the corner of street and boule-
ward was stationed little boy scarcely
ten years old. His brown, thick, un-
combed hair fell in locks almost to his
eyebrows, or stood out in bristles upon
his temples. His jacket, vest and pam
falcons were ill.iitting, and re-made
from old, worn corduroy, which had
changed from yellowish brown to
dirty gray hue. They were entirely
too large for him, but then Git was rea-
soned) he would grow, inevitably,
whether economy made this desirable
or not. His face and hands showed
the spots of mud which were spattered
on him short time ago bya luxurious
carriage that in passing almost touched
his three feet of corner territory. He
had small, bright, gentle blue eyes,
and was named Charles Froer. His
father, who was a street vendor of toys,
had placed him there some days before to
sell something which he had lately in.
vented 1t was wooden cuirassier of
brave bearing, mounted on a spirited
steed. When a spring was touched
the horse would prance off in quick
moving wheels, and the soldier would
brandish heroically his formidable sa-
bre, rising and then falling to pierce
some invisible breasts, or to NOW off
the heads of some imaginary host of
the invading enemy. During this
terrific attack the cuirassier would roll
his eyes ferociously, and his savage
moustache would bristle with fury.
What more alluring and embracing toy
could be offered to boy with drop
of French bravery in his heart? The
father sold many of them in walking
the neighboring streets, near the Won
derful Church of the Madeleine. But
he chose to have his boy remain at the
street corner, having suspended from
his neck frame in which company
of cuirassiers were in line in the full
splendor of paint and gliding.
Every morning he received twenty
of them and each one sold for twenty
sous. A sou has the value of cent?.
Thus, every evening, in mounting to
his home in Acacia street.-the sixth
story of the house-he must show
twenty sous for each missing cuirasser.
Now he shivered in the misty air; his
cheeks, nose and ears were purple, and
his little chapped hands were buried to
the elbows in his pantaoon pockets.
In feeble, thin, but sweet and mel
ancholy voice he cried
The cuirassier, the fine, brave
cuirassier, for twenty sous!" But the
Indifferent crowd passed on, leaving
him to repeat his offers as regularly as
This good man, glider by trade,
but now out of his proper work, turned
to this business to keep out of idleness,
that he might the better feed his
motherless children. He naturally sold
many more of the toys, because in his
good-natured way he added to these at
fractions by his sparkling Partisan
jokes, they compelling attention and
inducing the listeners to buy. The
little boy could not do this; indeed,
was rather sad while crying: "The
cuirassers, brave curassiers, for twenty
sousH Tears were in his voice, but
not because of the cold; he was accus-
toned to that. Nor was he ill or
hungry; on the contrary, he was strong,
and his father gave him plenty to eat.
Why, then, was he shedding tears, and
why did he regard with an air of dis
turbance, almost of fear, the children
of the wealthy who were tempted by
the pretty toys to approach him?
And when he sold one, and the
twenty sous sank deep in his pocket,
why did signs burst from his curved
lips and his eyes follow with a jealous
and desolate expression the happy child
who disappeared in the crowd triumph
antly bearing away the gallant soldier?
That day business had been excellent,
only one toy remaining-one only, and
nineteen pieces of silver jingling in his
purse. Near him, almost touching him,
came little boy, clinging to his moth
er's hand. Although of the same age,
he was much smaller than Charles and
very thin, his face being emaciated and
wan. 1t seemed hard for him to walk,
for his right shoulder projected in a
hump. They had never spoken, but
they knew each other very well by
sight, having often met. The deformed
boy was named CASTOR Lembally, one
which Charles thought almost too grand
for so small body. His mother was a
rich widow, who lived in the first fiat of
the house in Acacia street, of which he
was owner.
Castor stopped before Charles, recog-
nizing him with a smile and bow.
He gazed earnestly at the remaining
toy and exclaimed: "Oh, mamma, see
the splendid cuirassier!" His dark
trimmed eyes, those of one condemned
to soon close them forever, opened