The weekly Thibodaux sentinel and journal of the 8th Senatorial District. [volume] (Thibodaux, Lna. [i.e. La.]) 1875-1898, 1893-06-24

Of laughter. Even onr gentle mistress,
Ermance Dulorre, could not repress a
smile, and above all other voices I heard
that OF Georgette, who cried mirthfuliy:
"Oh, look at him! Look at hint He
is a canary bird"
The word was caught up instantly.
All the scholars shouted in chorus: HE
is a canary! A canary!'
Words fail to describe my bitter dis
appointment, my burning shame and
chagrin. | saw my folly now. But it
was too late-the awful deed was done!
Worse than all, in order to obtain this
now odious iacket I had spoiled all my
other jackets and had nothing else to
wear! When on the evening of that
most miserable day / told my troubles
to my father and mother, they were
merely amused and said to me:
1T is entirely your own fault. You
insisted N having the jacket, and now
you must put up with it"
Thus i was condemned to the per-
petual wearing Of my yellow jacket,
which entailed upon me no end Of petty
miseries.
Every day at school l was jeered at
and insulted. Even the babies of three
years-sweet, blue eyed, golden haired
cherubs-pointed at me with their tiny
fingers and lisped: Canary! Canary
One day we were playing the game Of
brigands and gendarmes. | IA n of
the gendarmes, who were invariably
beaten.
! Met-a-Mort had nominated himself
captain Of the brigands andchose Georg-
cite for his yivandiere.
Presently for a few moments there
was a suspension of hostilities. Brigands
and gcndarmes fraternized as they
quenched their thirst and e%xpatiated
upon the joys Of the fray. Suddenly
Ge0rgette. with her accustomed vivaci-
ty. bore in upon the little group. She
bore in her hands a glass ink bottle.
See" said her sweet voice. Who
ever will drink this ink shall by and BY
be my little husband..'
When we resumed our game, I discov-
cred that had lost all interest in it.
Georgette's words haunted me
went to look for the ink bottle. which
the child had carried back to the school
room. There | stood contemplating the
black. uninviting looking liquid.
closed my eyes and raised the bottle
1 to my lips.
What are You about. you dirty little
thing" exclaimed a voice from behind
me at the same instant that | received a
smart blow upon my uplifted arm.
Covered with confusion. l turned and
beheld Mile. Ernance, who had surprised
me i'll my singular occupation.
had no time to explain. Just at that
moment my schoolfellows came troop
ing in. Georgette, seeing me standing
there. ink stained and disgraced. and al.
! ready the coquette,-forgetful Of her
promise, exclaimed, with Il face Of dis
gust:
,Oh. the dirty boy. The nasty. dirty
boy"
Everything. however. has its bright
side. Nile. FINANCES tap and my owl
start Of surprise had jerked. the ink bot
tie from my grasp. My yellow jacket
was literally flooded. was rid Of it al
last.
1t was to G%eorgette that l owed +hi:
happy deliyerance. | thank her for i
today. What has become, | wonder, o.
that lovely child: Does she ever thinl
now Of those cid times? How often hav,
| dreamed of her. | have forgiven he
for the tears which she caused ne t,
shed. Her charming face dwells AWAY,
in my mind as T. pure ray from the by
gone light-vouth. | am not her hus
band and probably never shall be.
am resigned to my fate, which | richl,
deserve. because
did not drink the ink!-Trom III
French.