Connecticut western news., 1891-03-04

weepingI'
 Charles wiped his eyes with his sleeve, but his tears wetting the mud remain ing on 1t from his former efforts it left gray scar on his troubled visage, extend ing from his right eye to his left ear. Bstween his sighs, in broken sentences, l,e tried to explain:
 ''I-am-not-cryin Nc -one-has-hurt- No-I-am-not crying - only = my-cuirassiers, my fine cuirassiersr'
 ''Very well. Have you not been paid for thern?' F
 "Yes, but I love them 80 much. They are 80 handsome. when have them all there before me. look at them with so much pleasure! But I~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 myselfr'
 And have rou not asked your father for oneY'
 "Yes, but papa is poor and cannot af- ford it. He needs all the money for us.'
 The little invalid looked at him with gentle but astonished eye.
 "Then one would make yoE- very happyf" he asked.
 "Oh, yes, indeedr' sobbed Charles. with a new flow of tears.
 Then Gaston reached him his toy.
 "Here, take mine! give it to you. md you can keep the twenty sous, tool"
 Charles Froer feared he did not hear aright-dared not believe his ears. Nev- ertheless he half reached out his hands with curled fingers, wide open, sparkling eyes, half smiling while hesitating to be- ieve in his happiness.
 May 1 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 withdrawing it she murmured:
 Perhaps his self denial will win him more of heavenp and she disappeared in the crowd with her physically deformed but noble minded child. Charles Froer returned to Acacia street. His account was correct. For his twenty cuirassiers he returned twenty francs.
 He hid his toy in his pocket. In the evening he played with it; in the morn ing also before starting out. He even took it with him to the boulevard, fear ing if he had 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 vender was now merry, and his voice, though still feeble, was no longer sad when he cried:
 "The cuirassiers, 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 yiver.
 One evening he heard his father say:
 "Gaston Lembelly, the son of our mouse owner, is very ill.,"
 Charles felt a sharp pain in his heart, and large tears filled his eyes. Two day. after his father again said: '
 "Gaston Lembelly, the son of the pro- prietor, 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 continued to weep in his dreams.
 Two days more he saw the large door of the house hung with black drapery. bearing in silver the initials G. L.
 On table at the entrance, beneath the wreaths of flowers, and lighted by wax candles, was little casket, not lar ger than would have been required for a child of 5 years. When it passed out under the hangings many friends fol lowedit. But far behind the procession, more unkempt than usual, his hands still deep in the pockets of his corduroys, Charles Froer followed. The sky was covered with 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 time was not cheerful; it was a happy thing for little Gaston to go away to a 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 it's slow movement toward the cemetery of Mont martre. He kept far away from every one while the remains of his little bene- factor were being hid away forever He felt almost ashamed to be there, as if it were bad action, not having been invited by any one. And he trembled for the safety of his company of cuiras- siers which he dared to leave in charge of a 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 keep CTS, fearing they might chase him away.
 Men, women and the little children, friends of the dead boy, passed back through the gate, and Gaston was left forever under the cold of the wet earth. It was then that Charles timidly ap- preached, 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.
 His mother did not buy him another, and there won't be any up there per haps," he softly whispered to himself.
 He considered the toy a minute, touched the spring, and for the last time the steed galloped, the saber cut and pierced and put in flight the terrible but invisible enemy.
 Then he kissed the brave man on each cheek, pressed him on his breast, kissed him again and gently placed him be- heath the lovely and odorous wreaths-a fitting grave for hero and steed. In leav- ing the cemetery he continued to turn and throw kisses until the new made grave had faded from his sight.-Varied from the French of Jules Mary by Bally Yaa H D.