Ellsworth American. [volume] (Ellsworth, Me.) 1855-current, 1895-01-10
THE WOODEN SOLDIER
IN ARMOR.
Tran slated from the French for THE AMER
ICAN by Mrs. b. A. Dunn, of Bluehill.


ICAN by Mrs. b. \. Dunn of Bluehilli
1t was on the boulevard, on the corner
of Faith bout street.=It was raining-a
little fine, almost invisible rain, as If COM
ing from some colossal pulverlzer, moved
by an invisible hand from above. The
clouds were low and gray. The trees had
lost their leaves-a black mud covered the
streets, pavements, and sidewalks. The
passersby slipped, the horses STUN
bled, the wheels slid along. 1t was cold
December weather, armed with pointed
needles, so to speak, and still, notwith-
standing the disagreeable rain and the
north wind, the streets were full OF peo-
pie. 1t was here crowd of bustling
business folk, crossed by another crowd
walking as leisurely as if to funeral.
At the corner of Fait bout and the
boulevard, stood little boy hardly ten
years of age, with black unkempt hair
which fell in heavy black locks almost
to his eye brows. He was not very clean.
His pants, vest and coat of velveteen
had long since seen their best days.
Originally of maroon color, they had
now faded into a dusty gray, and the
garments, still much too large, showed
they had been purchased with an eye to
the boys growth. And very much soiled
was the little face turned pityingly from
side to side A fashionable carriage COM
ing too close to the sidewalk, had
spattered the gray mud on all sides, and
the little boys face received its share.
His dirty coat sleeve, drawn several times
across his face, equalized, if it did not
entirely clean off, the mud. His small
vivacious blue eyes had gentle look.
His name was Charles Frue. His father
had a few weeks previously, invented
new toy-a wooden soldier with a war
like air. holding in his hand wooden
sword, seated on fiery wooden steed on
wheels; as the wheels revolved the sabre
lifted, piercing invisible breasts, and cut
ting off with another turn of the wheels
imaginary heads, while the soldier, with
bristling moustache, rolled ferocious
eyes.
The father pedded his wares up and
down the great boulevards of L'Amblgu,
and the Madelaine, stationing in the
meantime his little boy at the corner of
Fait bout street A little table, suspended
from his neck by q cord, and on the table
q squadron of cuirassiers respondent and
warlike. He gave him twenty every
morning marking each one twenty cents.
Every evening, when he climbed up to
the sixth story of tenement house on
Acacia street, it was very often only
twenty cents that he could show for his
days work from the sale of his cuiras
siers.
Under the fine cold rain poor Charles
shivered. His cheeks, ears and nose We're
red, and his cold stiff little hands We're
plunged down to the elbow in his little
pantaloons. In thin, gentle and mel
ancholy voice he called out:
"Only twenty cents for the beautiful
soldiers
With perfect indifference the crowd
passed on. But Charles repeated his thin,
squeaking cry, with the utmost regu-
larity, as his father had taught him.
The fat her, a metal glider a widower
and out of work, adopted the toy bus
mess to keep him from being idle, and
hoping to at least pay his daily expenses,
knew how to show off his wares, and say
funny things of his wooden soldiers, and
so please and force the attention of the
people, and make them buy. Meanwhile
the poor little boy was sad.
1t was not because he was cold that
there were tears in his voice-he was
used to ships-neither was he sick
nor hungry-his father provided him
with good food, and was as kind as
ordinary fathers. Why then were there
tears in his eyes? Why did he look around
with frightened, if not defiant air, as
an occasional customer came to look at
or buy beau cuirassier? And when the
toy disappeared, when the twenty-cent
piece dropped into his pocket, why the
trembling lips and heavy sobs, and why
jealous and heart breaking looks, which
followed The bearer of the beau cuirasser
The sales had been good today. There
Embellishments.