The Florida agriculturist. [volume] (DeLand, Fla.) 1878-1911, 1893-10-18
CHAPTER VIII.
AFTER LONG YEARS.

In all the department of the Saone-et-
Loire there was no man more generally
liked and respected than M. Dumont,
the proprietor of Les Bons Amis, a
thriving auberge which stood in the
outskirts of the village of Simard, just
where the highroad to Montret passes
the end of the lane leading to the old
church.
M. Dumont was widower, having
lost his wife some 20 years before. They
had gone to Marseilles to see her father,
her only remaining relative, who was
dying. The fatigue of the journey had
been too much for her, and she had died
in giving birth to son, their first and
only child
Having laid his young wife and her
old father side by side, M. Dumont re-
turned to Les Bons A1nis with a little
dark eyed infant, a few weeks old, to be
henceforward the great JOY and interes;
of his life, for he never thought Of re
marrying, but devoted himself to the
bringing up of his child and the care of
his inn and his farm.
In course of time the little delicate
baby grew up to be tall, strong young
man, the pride and joy Of his father, the
apple Of his eye. He was q general IA
vorite with old and young, while his gen.
tie manners and soft dark eyes made
him specially popular among the young
girls Of the surrounding villages.
Things had all gone we'll with N. Du-
mont, and at the time of which we write
he was very prosperous man, as he we'll
deserved to be, for he was always gener-
GUS and ready to help his poorer neigh
bors.
An air Of we'll being pervaded every
thing about the house and farm. The
thriving fields of golden grain, now al
most ready for the sickle, were picture
to behold, while rows of great pot bellied
yellow courges lined the burrows. From
trunk to trunk of the slender poplars
were festooned the carefully cultivated
vines, already showing promise of good
vintage and busy time for the vendan-
geurs who a little later would gather the
purple fruit and tread it out in yonder
barns, with many laugh and jest, for
in those days when the century was still
but young such simple methods were
still practiced, and modern improve
ments were quite unknown in that quiet
village in the heart of France.
The auberge itself was picturesque
old building, with high peaked roof and
quaint little dormer windows lighting
the spacious roomy grenier, where the
winter store of fruit was kept-apples
and pears and nuts of various kinds.
while from lines stretching from rafter
to rafter were hung punches of grapes.
each bunch snugly ensconced in it's own
bag and carefully separated from its
neighbor.
And the Naturalization but in name,
for no rough work was ever done there
how comfortable it was and how pictur
esque, with it's deep fireplace, where in
winter time great logs blazed and
cracked, it's roof hung with we'll
smoked hams and many a bunch of
sweet and savory herbs and pepper pods,
it's rows of shining fagons and well pre-
served quaint old china and earthenware,
it's polished oaken tables and settles, the
vivid color of it's red tiled floor! In the
corner by the fireplace was the picture
of the Virgin, with a jug of fresh flowers
on the little carved bracket beneath it.,
for they were pious, these simple people.
and the Virgin never was without her
little offering.
Up stairs what piles Of soft wool mat
tresses, with store of snowy homespun
l,oa,o cboo+c ord cow hlanketSi Then the