The Forrest City times., 1896-02-07
THE LAST OF THE TEN.
BY BOHEMIAN.

The old granny sat on the door step spinning; the mother and daughter were down at the river washing; little Paola was in the field watching the single peacock, all that remained of the gallant and strutting ten that had once been his especial charge. The grand mas heart was sad, for it was eight years since her son had been outlawcd and had gone to hide in the mountains that ovelooked the blue Mediterran- can. The mother was pensive because she knew not when she would hear the cry: He is taken! he is taken" The little daughter was sorrowful because she had to kneel there by the river on Christmas, for they were too poor to remain idle even on d holiday. Paola was discontented; his beautiful flock of proud peacocks had been stolen, only one had been left by the brigands when they made their last descent from the mountains. Their goat, too, had disappeared. In the solitude of the mountain side near the shores of the lovely sea the lad reclined in the sun- shine with his one peacock ambline haughtily around him like some prince ly dame with a profound disbelief in the saying about fine feathers. How grand she was, this splendid creature, with her feathers like rainbows in color and her tread that of an overconscious queen, The boy bent in adoration before her. How splendid you are.' he said.
 Yes; it was true. Little Paola adorcd this, the last of his pets. The loss O. the others had made it more dear to him. They had once had two or three goats and he had little hut all to him. self overlooking the sea. Here he slept in storm and sunshine. A peacock nay seem an odd sort of pet, but it is none the less true that a species of de yotion existed between the disdainful bird and the peasant lad. The latter was the admirer; the former looked upon him with superior condescension. When it rained the boy took the last of the flock to his hut, where there was barely room for both of them within. The lad, it should be said, had once been devoted to a little, lazy, unfortunate donkey, but it was nothing compared to this affection. A donkey, he told himself, was we'll enough in it's way. with it's red tassels and bright harness, but it was not to be mentioned in the same category with this gorgeous and overwhelming creature whose attire h,trr frlnx haf n princess in the world would compare with it. He guarded it as the apple at his eye, and granny said he had rather live with his gay and disdainfnl friend than with them, which probably was true. Granny was very discerning old lady, but she was mournful con- panion, for she often rocked to and fro and lamented their hard lot. Such be- wailings were not cheering, and Paola preferred the mountain side, the shade of the olive trees, the beach running down to the caressing sea, the blue sky that changed at sunset and-above a., the last of the ten.
 But on that day when granny sat spinning and the mother and daughter were washing, a misfortune befell Poala. A priest who passed him called out:
 "Paola, are you not coming to church?"
 Il cannot" was the reply. Tt would run away" Tt" was the last of the flock.
 The priest spoke again, kindly and gently. and then went on.
 "I wonder why peacocks don't go