The copper country evening news. [volume] (Calumet, Mich.) 18??-1907, 1896-02-13
HE ENyES THE BIRDS.
FRANCOIS coepse AND his FRIENDS
IN THE JARDlN by LUXEMBOURG.


b Ii . Touching Sight TO wetch the Poet
Feed His Pets In public Gardsn-A
Man Who Is Loved by All snd>{s "Dsar
Master" to the Students.
Francois Coppee, the author Of "For
the King" has great many friendsip
Paris, but none of them is more devoted
than the little birds that live in the Jar
din du Luxembourg. They know him as
soon as they see him come in at one OF
the wide gates, his shoulders dropping,
his Bead hanging forward, his face pale
from \ill health. They know in just
which one of his pockets he carries the
big piecs of bread which he is going to
divide into crumbs for their benefit, and
they probably say in their own special
language:
"Ah, here II Friend Coppee. bless
him %
They are not the DULY ones that know
what Coppee has in his,pocket All the
Latin quarter people wha. come and 60
through that corner Of the Luxembourg
| garden which faces the Odeonknow that
the gentle author rarely misses q. day in
| his devotion to the birds. And when he
appears with peculiar swollen appear
ance about one of his pockets they draw
| quietly off 10 a respectful distance To,
| watch.
As soon as the circle Of spectators
workmen in blue blouses, students In
corduroy and slouch hats, nursemaids
with barelegged cbildren--as soon as
these elements. which might possibly
be disturbing. have taken themselves far
| enough out of the way, the birds close
in around the poet until sometimes
hundred Of them will be fiuttering about
his head or hopping about his feet.
Then he takes out his piece Of bread,
and crumbling off one corner losses a
morsel up in the air. Instantly there is
| fiutter of wings, and two or three Of
| the birds dart upward, and the most for
tunate one catches the crumb in its fight
and settles down again 10 his place in
the flock.
One crunb after another is thrown
ont in this direction and that, and oc-
casionally few are scattered on the
ground, so that the less adventurous and
weaker spirits may have their share.
Finally good fat orumb is pinched of,
but not thrown. 1t is held invitiDgly
between the thumb and finger, while
the poet looks at his birds as much as to
say:
"Come, come You know your friend
Coppee. Give me proof Of your affec-
ton, as l am giving you proof OF
mine.
There is q great fiutter then among
the birds, great cooking Of pretty
heads, much sharp glancing Of bright
eyes. Finally one particularly brave
little creature makes a wide curve to-
ward the imprisoned crumb, but his
courage deserts him on the way, and he
circles back to his place without the
prize. Coppee rubs the crumb little,
so that a tiny morsel Of it falls to the
ground, where it is quickly picked up.
II is as if he said TO his small flock:
"See, my little friends. it is a good
crumb. Where is your confidence? Have
I ever betrayed your"
As if ashamed of having hesitated SC
long, bird makes a dart toward the
outstretched hand, poises with futter-
ing wings above it, picks daintily ut the
crumb and then bears it away triumph
antly in its bill. After that it all goes
merry as a marriage bell. Two or three
birds will be eating from his hand at
the same time. They light on his shout
der, ON his arm, on his hat.
The spectators meanwhile are full OF
breathless interest. A child whose loud
cry of delight startled the birds into
sudden flight is unceremoniously jerked
back by his nurse with an emphatic
"Tais-toi. The students talk in an un'
dertone about the dear master. as they
call Coppee.
Last winter, when there was an IN
usual amount Of snow in Paris, Coppet
was particularly attentive to the wants
,, of his birds, which in their turn were
more than ever appreciative of his good
offices, for the snow made pretty poo
picking for them. And ON cold days i
! was no uncommon sight to see the stu
dents rush up to the poet after he bat
finished his dole and turn up his Goa
collar or tighten his muller or buttor
his overcoat.
Dear MASTER" they would say affec
tionately, "you must be more careful Of
yourself. You Fnow you are not strong
and it is cold, and we need you as muci
as the birds do"
To the birds and the students he is al
ways "the dear master" 1t was Coppe'
who wrote and read the poem for th'
unwilling of the bust Of Henri Murge
in that same Jardin du Luxembourg
Murger's name is idolized by the who'll
Latin quarter, and it is doubtful il the
students would have permitted any ont
of whom they did not approve to TAX
part in the ceremonies at the unveilins
Of his monument.
Coppee is not married. although, il
French fashion, he has friend to whom
he makes mysterious references in hi
writings as one who is dear to him ant
in whose heart he knows he will leav'
inconsolable regret when he dies. How
ever that may be, ho will be sure O
plenty Of sincere mourners-the student
Of the Latin quarter and the birds q tn
Jardin du Luxembourg. New Yorl
Sun.