Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1892-10-07

one u tfle Sfttt ErieIS OF MY ilI6-.k 4U51
my dear grandfather. lie gradually Wore
out, cared for and loved by us all to his
last hour. He had enc OF those rare natures
in which egotism finds no place, and whose
active kindness rccols before no trouble
that may bring some joy to loved ones;
one of those tender and delicate souls al
ways forgetting themselves to think only
of others, considering themselves amply
repaid by u smile, and finding their happi-
ness in the pleasures they are able to give.
l shall always remember the sadness
with which we entered his rooms Il month
after the dear mans death. They had re-
manned just as they were the old furniture
and familiar objects reminding us of him.
Rays of sunlight slipping through the
window blinds fell obliquely upon the
Powered carpet, making slender golden
bars in which the dust was dancing. We
walked on tiptoe and spoke in low tones
1t seemed as if he must still be there in
the big bed with drawn curtains, or in
the armchair he had loved, or by the table
where he used to spread his newspaper or
make up his accounts, with that whole
some exactness which he carried into the
smallest details of life.
A servant, recently come into the house,
opened the blinds abruptly, Indifferent to
an emotion which he could not under
stand. Suddenly the whole room was
filled with light from outside, and with it
came flood of fresh air, bringing the
roar of the street. Death was allowing
life to enter; and with life, cruel necessi-
ties.
The dead mans rooms were to be rented;
the furniture must be removed, the ward
robes emptied and all made clean for the
stranger who was coming to take his place.
The dead go quickly, especially in large
cities-those immense hives in perpetual
activity. Scarcely is a cell emptied of it's
humming life when another life installs it.
self there, ignorant alike of that which has
preceded it and that which will follow
The moving commenced and was sadly
affected 1t seemed to me as if all that
still remained of my grandfather was be-
ing scattered and consumed little by little
Some one, pointing out to me the lower
part of the cupboard which he had just
op"lcd, exclaimed in an astonished tone:
s'Henry! Come and see!''
l looked Immediately and l saw.-oh,
dear grandfather! dear and excellent man.
Il saw the lower shelves filled with uncut
volumes all alike, bound in the blue covers
I knew SO well-'The Swallowsw 1.-THE
Swallows!"
The first edition of my book was there,
almost entire-that edition so quickly
| bought up, (which people buy and about
which no one talks" as Massol had said.
My grandfather had bought it, He was
that mysterious pu blic-he those beautiful
duchesses whom had imagined devouring
my verses, propped up in the midst of their
lace pillows.
I1x,;t !, +,,ay !,
touched the volumes, at the same time
both spotless and old. The stamps of the
most distant booksellers were ON some of
them. One came from the Boulevard du
Temple, another from the galleries of the
Odeon. All the time that 1 was handling
them seemed to see the dear man again
setting out on foot and hurrying to the
four corners of Paris to buy his grandsons
book! l could see him enter the shop,
proudly ask for '"rhe Swallows" by Hen
ry Didier, take two or three copies las
many as he could without awakening the
merchants suspicion) and carry them I'M
der his arm, laughing to himself at his
touching ruse, As soon as he entered he
would run quickly to this cupboard and
conceal his booty, happy to see the row
growing longer and longer. He had kept
his secret for all these years. His delicacy
had not wanted the thanks to which it had
SO many rights!
And then remembered the expression
he had used as he smiled behind his glasses
the day received the letter from Massol:
''You are happy, little one? Well, that is
all that is necessarily
Yes, I was happy, dear grandfather! No
success that have had since that time has
made me as happy as was when learned
that the first edition Of my first book was
all gone. I know now why it was gone.
| know your innocent cunning, and to my
| former joy is added deep gratitude to you.
| Do love you more? l could not; but your
touching attention has proved to me that
| the most pleasing and the most sublime
| thing in the world is kindness.
AS Henry Didier stopped speaking tear
ran down his cheek. We We're all affected
by his sweet story and remained silent
around him.-Translated from the French
| of jacques Normand for Romance.