Peninsula enterprise. [volume] (Accomac, Va.) 1881-1965, 1896-01-25
HE LOVES THE BIRDS.
FRANCOIS CoPPEE AND HIS FRIENDS
IN THE JARDlN DU LUXEMBOURG.

IN THE JARDlN DU LUXEMBOURG.
1t Is Touching Sight to Watch tho Poet
Feed His Pets In n Public Garden-A
Man Who Is Loved by All and Is "Dear
Master" TO the Students.
Francois Coppee, the author Of "For
the King" has great many friends in
Paris, but none of them is more devoted
than the little birds that live in the Jar
din du embourg. They know him as
soon as they see him come in at one of
the wide gates, his shoulders dropping,
his head hanging forward, his face pale
from i'll health. They know in just
which one of his pockets he carries the
big piece of bread which he is going to
divide into crumbs for their benefit, and
they probably say in their own special
language:
"Ah, here is Friend Coppee. bless
himv"
They are not tho only ones that know
what Coppee has in his pocket All the
Latin quarter people who come and go
through that corner of the Luxembourg
garden which faces the Odcon know that
the gentle author rarely misses day i'll
his devotion to the birds. And when he
appears with peculiar swollen appear
ance about one Of his pockets they draw
quietly off to respectful distance to
watch.
AS soon as the circle of spectators
workmen in blue blouses, students III
corduroy and SLOUGH hats, nursemaids
with barelegged childron-as soon as
these elements, which might possibly
be disturbing, have taken themselves far
enough ont OF the way, the birds close
in around the poet until sometimes
hundred of them will be fluttering about
his head or hopping about his feet.
Then he takes out his piece of bread,
and crumbling off one corner losses
morsel up il the air. Instantly there is
q flutter of wings, and two or three of
the birds dart upward, and the most for
innate one catches the crumb i'll its flight
and settles down again to his place III
the flock.
One crumb after another is thrown
ont in this direction and that, and oc-
casionally few are scattered on tho
ground, so that tho less adventurous and
weaker spirits may have their share.
Finally good fat crumb is pinched off,
but not thrown. 1t is held invitingly
between the thumb and finger, while
the poet looks at his birds as much as to
say:
Come, como. You know Your friend
Coppee. Give me proof of your atfec-
ton, as am giving you proof of
mine.
There is great flutter then among
the birds, d great cooking Of pretty
heads, much sharp glancing of bright
eyes. Finally one particularly brave
little creature makes wide curve to-
ward the imprisoned crumb, but his
courage deserts him on the way, and no
circles back TO his place without the
prize. Coppee RIBS the crumb little,
so that tiny morsel Of it falls to the
ground, where it is quickly picked up.
1t is as if he said to his small flock:
"See, my little friends, it is good
crumb. Where is your confidence? Have
ever betrayed you:'
AS if ashamed of having hesitated so
long, a bird makes a dart toward the
outstretched hand, poises with futter-
ing wings above it, picks daintily at the
crumb and then bears it away triumph
anrly in its bill. After that it all goes
merry as 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. 4 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 al IN
dertone about the dear master, as they
call Coppee.
Last winter, when there was an IN
usual amount of snow in Paris, Coppee
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 poor
picking for them. And on cold days it
was no uncommon sight to see the stu
dents rush up to the poet after he had
finished his dole and turn up his coat
collar or tighten his muller or button
his overcoat.
Dear master" they would say affec-
tionately, "you must be more careful Of
yourself. You know you are not strong,
and it is cold, and we need you as much
as the birds do. -
To the birds and the students he is al
ways "the dear master. - 1t was Coppee
who wrote and read the poem for the
unwilling of the bust Of Henri Murger
in that same Jardin du Luxembourg.
Murger's name is idolized by the whole
Latin quarter, and it is doubtful If the
students would have permitted any one
of whom they did not approve to take
part in the ceremonies at the unvelllng
of his monument.
Coppee is not married, although, in
French fashion, he has friend to whom
he makes mysterious references in his
writings as one who is dear to him and
in whose heart he knows he will leave
inconsolable regret when he dies. How
ever that may be, he will be sure OF
plenty of sincere mourners-the students
ct the Latin quarter and the birds OF the
Tardio 6I, TnypmhOurp
Moving In the Bowery.
There was moving in the Bowery 6