Warren sheaf. [volume] (Warren, Marshall County, Minn.) 1880-current, 1896-08-13
THE KING OF THE MILL.
BY JOSEPH NEVIN DOYLE. t
lCOPYRIGHT, 1861


One summer evening, after supper,
NJ. La Rose, the village notary, came out
upon the veranda of the Hotel Castor,
his hat in his hand, his smoothly
shaver face ruddy and pleasant to look
upon. Bra bon, the drummer, who came
up from Montreal, to St. Pyx occa-
siOnally on business, sat smoking quiet
ly in a chair that was tilted against the
wall.
Good EVENING" said M. La Rose.
'Good evening, monsieur lie notairel"
answered Brabon, indolently. &a 3sEe .sss
Then there followed little spell of ST.
1ence that was intensified by the clat-
terfof sdistantscow bells. -
Presently there appeared inithe street
Immediately before the hotel sort of
living fatasy-a singular dark-faceG
old man, who strobe slowly past clad
in loose robe of many bright colors.
His eyes had the unmistakable and rest
less look of the daft On his head was
crown of buttons; brass. silver, bone,
pearl, presumably sewn together on
card board and making a headgear Of re-
markable brilliancy. Behind him
walked gray-haired, gray-eyed woman
in ordinary garb. Ter look was clear
and steady; her demeanor, in every way
sane. Yet though it was plain to see she
was commonplace woman, there was
something augustsin her carriage, unac-s
countably so, perhaps, but,as natural as
the studied pose of5tlle other was con-
strained and$unnatural. Her eyes. were.
set fairly upon the fantastic figure be-
fore; but, declare, this is new!'
an evident interest beyond his ludicrous
pomp and preoccupation.
1t was not surprising then to the no
tary that this apparition, emphasizedin
the magic atmosphere of the summer
twilight, should have made Brabon to
cry out with astonishment.
''Allous!' What is this, monsieur? l
have been in Saint Pyx many times be-
fore; but I declare, this is newt"
"a very pathetic affair it is, Brabon,"
said the notary, taking chair and look
ing at his watch, to be assured he had
time to tell the tale before going for his
customary evening chat with M. LIE Cure
in the presbytery rose garden.
''There is tale?"
swell, as you will: a history, nothing
absorbing but very human, very touch
ing. Old Cesaire Moisson, a man with a
large family, thrifty, sober, God-fear-
ing man once owned the mill by the
River of Angels"
Eyes, see it from here; the squat
white building near the cluster Of will
lows yonder."
''Exactly. Well. He was a man
with considerable family, said, did
l not? and when the epidemic of small
pox occurred in the village-that was
many years ago, monsieur poor Mois-
sons family was attacked, and one
after another his wife and children
passed away, and he himself, indeed,
till there was only left this son Zeph-
rim. whom you saw go by q moment
since" 5'&
ut left him so-the smallpox
mo. He was not at home when the
epidemic occurred; he was at college.
Old Cesaire managed to put by enough
silver to educate the lad-the brightest
of his brood-and NJ. LIE Cure also con-
tributed, for he had hopes that Zephrin
would become priest"
Then, | presume, the shock of this
great calamity unbalanced the young
mans mind
4s 1fThat may be pretty true, tmonsieur,
Though for long time after the affair
he was thought to. be perfectly sound
! mentally Well, ZephrrinlSwas obliged to
leave college and take up the business
OF the mill "a lonely task it must have