Democratic Northwest. [volume] (Napoleon, Ohio) 1869-1894, 1891-10-22
Highest of all in Leavenng Report Aug 1889
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ABSOLUTELY PURE
ABSOLUTELY PURE

writers for correspondence of this kind,
but Jean was brave and presently an
swered softly:
1T is to the Holy Virgin that | wish
to send letter."
Father Bonin did not laugh, not at all;
he simply wiped and laid aside his pen
and took his pipe from his mouth.
"See you, midget" said he severely,
81 don't want to believe that you mock
an old man; besides, you are too small
for me to trounce. Face about; march!
Out you sol"
Little Jean obeyed and wonderingly
turned heel, or foot rather. since heel he
had none; and, seeing him SO submissive,
Pere Bonin a second time reconsidered
and regarded him more closely.
"Name of names, of namesp' grum-
bled he, but there is misery in this
Paris! What do you call yourself, babyE"
jean"
"Jean what2"
"Nothing-just JEAN"
Pere Bonin felt his eyes sting, but he
only said:
"And what do you wish to say to the
Holy VirginT"
ITO tell her that mammals been asleep
since four o'clock yesterday, and that |
can't wake her up"
The heart of the old soldier suddenly
stood still He feared to comprehend
He demanded again;
"But that soup you spoke of while
ago."
Yes" said the child, Il know had
to speak of it, you see, because mamma
Satore going to sreep yesterday gave me
the last piece of bread"
"And what did she eat, pray?"
Nothing for more than two days-she
always said she wasn't hungry"
And you tried to wake her, say you
how
"As always do-kissing her."
"Did she breathe?'
Jean smiled, and that smile made him
beautiful
81 don't know" said he. Don't we
! oil wa > bItbLlle.
Pere Bonin had to hastily turn his
head, for two pig tears were rolling
down his cheeks, and his reply to the
child was another question:
And when You kissed her" said he,
"you noticed nothing strange"
eyes, did," said Jean; chow cold
she was; but then it's always SO cold in
our house"
"She shivered, then. your mamma
shivered with the cold?"
"No, she was just cold, but so pretty,
her hands crossed SO, her head back and
her eyes looking at the sky"
"And | wanted richest" Pere Bonin
murmured, a. who have enough to eat
and drink, when here is one that died of
hungerr'
And drawing the child to him he took
him on his knee and softly began to talk
to him.
THY letter, my baby" said he, sis writ
ten, sent and received. Now take me to
thy mother"
ooh, yes, will, but-but why do you
cry?" demanded Jean, astOnished.
! "But am not crying, Jean-no, men
never cry! "ris you, my precious, who
will soon do THAR
Then, straining him in his arms and
covering him with kisses: Il, too, know
you, little Jean, once had a mother,
whom | see even now in her bed, so pale
and white and saying to me, the image
of the Virgin resting at her head
BONN, my son, be an honest man al
ways, and always Christiapv An hon
est man have been, but a Christian
ah, damer'
He sprang to his feet, the child still
hugged to his breast, and speaking as if
to one invisible:
"But now, old mother, now, | say, rest
thou in peace, for thou art going to have
thy way. Friends may laugh and jeer
if they will, but where thou art | wish
to go, and there will be led to this
precious angel here, who shall never
leave me again. His letter. which was
never even written, has made double
shot-it has given him father and me
hearth
That is all; this story without end is
done. l know no more save that some
where in Paris today there is man still
young, writer also, but not as Pere
Bonin.
This man is writer of eloquent
things.
His friends still call him "Jean," as
he called himself, and though | know
not, either, the name of the postman
that carries letters like these, they al.
ways reach their destination. Trans.
lated from the French of Paul Favel fol
Short Stories.