Democratic Northwest. [volume] (Napoleon, Ohio) 1869-1894, 1891-10-22
CHAPTER Xl
LETTERS

She kissed her uncle.
One day Rosalie's banjo came by ex-
press This was in response to request
she had embodied in a letter to her
father after she had striven in vain to
make the fine old piano in Mrs Roose-
velt's parlor Danish her desire for the
simpler instrument. No doubt it was
very foolish act to kiss the banjo, but
she did it with genuine passion Had it
not been her beloved companion from
her childhood Was it not one of the
old mills inmates throughout her sweet
crude life in the 'pocketT Ought it
not to share her happiness in this am
pier life at the Roosevelt mansonp She
turned its keys she swept its strings.
Its pure, short notes cut through air that
never before had palpitated with music
30 plebeian The sounds brought quick
tears to her eyes, and her lips quivered.
It would be unjust to say that any fool
ish sentiment caused her emotion A
very natural homesickness had preyed
upon her mind at intervals since coming
to Savannah, and of course every letter
from the "pocket" and every other spe-
cial reminder of the old mill aggravated
the malady, and it was with feeling of
relief that Rosalie turned from the banjo
to read one addressed to her uncle from
Mr.. Edgar Julian.
Here is something that may interest
you," Mr. Roosevelt had said, as he
handed her this missive postmarked at
some town in the south of France 1.-THE
latter part of it is really meant for you
to read. Ijudge you will be charmed
with it.
"Oh, it is from Mr.. Julian, she ex
claimed, almost joyfully, as she glanced
at the signature "He is in the south of
France, sure enough And such long
letter.
She kissed her uncle in thankful antici-
patton of some news from "le Chateau
Chenier," and ran off to the nearest win
dow seat to read
Mr. Roosevelt stood for a moment
contemplating her This was the first
time his fascinating adopted daughter
had ever kissed him. He was shrewd
old fellow; he suspected that kiss as be-
ing meant to go clear across the Allan.
tic, He thought it not worth while to
make any remarks, however, and with a
bland smile on his semi-Jewish face he
went away to his Office
Rosalie's hand trembled as she held
the letter Her eyes ran rapidly over
the clear, rather small writing, scarcely
the half of which had anything to do
with Mr.. Roosevelt's business. Evi
IDENTIFY Mr.. Edgar Julian had done val
liant and valuable work in behalf of the
railroad schemes of his employers, for
he had sent back the contract Of the
Dutch Syndicate" duly approved, signed
and sealed A matter So completely fin,
ished needed very few words of explana.
tion. But turning from railroad diplo
macy to something which seemed to in
terest him pleasantly. he wrote as fol
lows:
Il promised Miss Chenier that would
look up the old estate in Provence to
which her father thought he might have
some claim" lit may be said here that
Rosalie could not remember any such
promise.l i have seen lie Chateau Che
merit still bears the name; a most
lovely old ruin in the midst of vineyards
and fig orchards, and trimmed round with
olive crowned hills. The chateau itself
is not inhabitable, save that one tumble
down wing has been kept as pretense
Of shelter for family of peasants, of a
very low order, should say; but the
place has been grand one.
IF one had lived few hundred years
ago one would have loved such home
for it was then fair castle in the center
Of the worlds most charming region. The
estate is quite valuable even now, and
its ownership seems in doubt After ALL
Miss Chenier's father may be the right
full claimant. Ii he could establish his
title few thousand dollars judiciously
expended would make the whole place a
garden Of beauty. This climate is en-
chanting. | should like to settle here
with colony Of my own picking, The
wind, and the sunshine, and the fra
GRANGE Of things fill one with sense Of
the value Of mere existence. But the
people are dry and stolid on the one
hand, or gushing and monstrously in
clined to exaggeration on the other.
hold that no country whose laboring
classes wear sabots is safe to live in 1t
has the appearance of decay in its last
stage. Sandals, bare feet and wooden
shoes are not the accompaniment of
progress. In walking about among the
people and the buildings here am con-
stantly reminded of ashes.
Indeed, am not sure but that the
feTvent sun Of this climate has slowly
burned up everything. Such energy as
we have in our great west might not be
able to resist it through many genera
tions. especially If we should fall into this
wine drinking habit. Everywhere one
goes here one sees wine used like water,
and great deal Of 1t is a villainous sour
stuff unfit for hogs to drink.
They tell us that this region was once
the center Of European literary culture;
that here the fragrant dregs Of Roman
sivilization, and, through the Roman,
the Greek artistic refnements, were left
oxeE after Italy had become Q cinder.