The weekly Thibodaux sentinel and journal of the 8th Senatorial District. [volume] (Thibodaux, Lna. [i.e. La.]) 1875-1898, 1895-07-13

What is that to be!' asked the
maiden.
"A heart with your name and NINE"
answered Hans as he continued to carve.
When the work was finished, they
both looked at it, well pleased, and the
tree was as happy as if Is king had hung
a golden chain upon her.
Truly, men are splendid people,"
thought she.
Now the hunter began to sing. The
treo had listened many times to the
song Of the finch aud thrash. ent she
heard o for the frs: time something
very different from bird songs.
: Listen, Hans" said the girl when
tho hunter paused III his song. Your
solls reminds HE Of something. / know
people say-that in the autumn you
go secretly into the woods for game. Let
the poaching go. The forester is your
enemy. You know Why. and if he
should meet you poacling III the woods,
then-hcayens my Hans! if you should
he brought to me with a bullet through
-FOUR breast.
Il NOt1li& lllsti btlIb oNS1 tllC gill;,
who leaned caressingly CT his shoulder
and kissed her lips.
People talk too much. Don't believe
everything they say, sweetheart" Ard
putting his arm around her they went
singing through the forest.
When the couple disappeared among
the trees. d MAJ in hunters dress c;ept
from the bushes. He carried his gun Oh
his back and a knife III his belt. His
face was white and distorted. He Went
Up to the beech tree and beheld the
heart that Hans had carved. He laughed
wildly and drew out his knife to destroy
the writing, then. changing his mind,
he thrust the blade again ii its sheath.
Shaking his fist threateningly in the d.
rection where the couple had disap-
pcarcd, be muttered. grinding his teeth.
of | meet you, you poacher, only once
al forbidden ground. you will have
heard the cuckoo sing for the last time"
With these words he went into the
woods.
Ard the tree shock her head sadly.
The beech tree got many 4 sight Of
the faces of the children Of men in the
course OF the summer-the poor women
gathering leaves Or dry bark, the berry
plckers, foresters and pilgrims. But the
most cherished amid the guests who
gathered under her leafy roof We're the
youth and brown haired maid. They
made weekly visits to her, spoke Of their
love, embraced each other, and day pv
day the beech tree came to love them
more.
One morning before sunrise. when
the mountains We're just casting off their
gray mist caps, Hans came alone. He
carried a gun on his shoulder and step
ped rs lightly through the underbrush
as if he would take his sweetheart by
surprise. This time his coming had
nothing to do with lovely Eva-but the
stag comes this way to drink! -
At the foot of the tree the hunter
paused and stood as motionless as the
beech herself. The cool morning wind
blew, and the mist disappeared in heavy
clouds. The gay birds futtered and sang
about the stream. The underbrush rus
tied. Hans raised his gun. A shot rang
out on the clear air. Hans dropped his
gun, sprang convulsively into the air
and fell to the ground. A man strobe
hastily from the thicketwith a smoking
gun ID his left hand. The beech tree
knew him well. The huntsman bent
over the murdered man. 1T is all over
with him. he said, and taking his gun
he vanished into the bushes.
The bright sun rose and shone upon a
still form with set white face. Sorrow
fully the tree bent over and wept bitter
tears, and the little robins flew M and
covered the dead face and staring ewes
with leaves and twigs. In the afternoon
some woodcutters came that way and
found the body.
He has been shot while p~oachinr."
they said, and taking him gently up they
bore him to the distant valley. An old
man fingered by the tree. He drew his
knife and carved a cross over the heart
that Hans had made. Then he took off
his hat and breathed "a PRAYER. The
leaves Of the green crest rustled, for the
tree prayed, too, in her W way.
iVi liiitiN SdilllieES Oh tne anniversary
OF the death of the murdered man, the
maiden came to the seat, knelt down
and wept and prayed, and every time
she was paler, more fragile. One dav
she IL not come, and the tree murmur-
cd, she Is dead and so it was.
Years passed. The beech had become
a mighty tree. Her bark was covered
with brown moss. The wild vines cIus-
tered about her trunk, and heart and
cross We're both nearly covered. A man
came II day and made "a third mark on
the bark. and the tree kneM her time