The Somerset reporter., 1896-01-30
He LOVES THE BIRDS.


1t la Touching sight to Watch the Poet
Feed Els Pets In Public Garden !
Man Who J. Loved hy All and Is "Dear
Master to the Students
Francois Coppee. the author of "For
the King has a great many friends in
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 case III at one of
the wide gates, his shoulders dropping
his head hanging forward, his face pale
from i'll health. They know III just
which one of his pockets he carries the
bi, piece of bread which he Is going 10
divide into crumbs for their benefit, and
they probably say in their owr special
language:
All, here IS Friend Coppee. bless
him.
They are not the 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 Odeon know that
the gentle author rarely misses a day in
his devotion to the birds. And when he
appears with Il peculiar swollen appear
ance about one of his pockets they draw
quietly off to a respectful distance to
watch.
As soon as the circle of spectators
workmen in blue blouses, students in
corduroy and sloueh hats, nursemaids
with barelegged children-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 a
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 a
morsel up in the air. Instantly there is
a flutter of wings, and two or three of
the birds dart upward, and the most for
tunate one catches the crumb IN its flight
and settles down again to his place in
the flock
One crumb after another is thrown
out in this direction and that, and oc-
casionally a few are scattered ON the
ground, so that the less adventurous and
weaker spirits may have their share
Finally good fat crumb is pinehed 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, come. You know your friend
II ,,4Ta
ton, as l am giving you proof of
mine.
There Is great fiutter then among
the birds, ii great cooking of pretty
heads, much sharp CHANGING of bright
eyes. Finally one particularly brave
little creature makes Il 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 Il little,
so that a 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 Il good
erumb. Where is your confidence Have
ever betrayed YOU
As if ashamed of having hesitated so
long, a bird makes dart toward the
outstretched hand, poises with futter.
ing wings above it, picks daintily at the
crumb and then bears it away triumph
antly in its bill. After that 1t all goes
merry as "a marriage bell. Two or three
birds will he 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 IN
dertone about the dear master, as they
call Coppee.
Last winter when there was an un-
usual amount of snow in Paris, Coppee
was particularly attentive to the wants
of his birds, which i'll 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 muffler or button
his oyereoat.
Dear MASTER" they would say affec-
tionately, you must be more careful Of
yourself Yon know you are not strong.
and it is cold, and we need you as much
as the birds do. y
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 Murper
in that same Jardin du Luxembourg
Murger's name is idolized by the whole
Latin quarter, and it is doubtful if tho
students would have permitted any one
of whom they did not approve to take
part in the ceremonies at the unwilling
of his monument.
Coppee is not married, although, il
French fashion, he has a friend to whom
he makes mysterious references in his
writings as one who is dear to him AM
in whose heart he knows he will leave
inconsolable regret when he dies HOY =
ever that may be, he will be sure e
plenty of sincere mourners-the students
of the Latin quarter and the birds of the
Jardin du Luxembourg. New York
Sun.
Mt