Freeland tribune. (Freeland, Pa.) 1888-1921, 1898-12-19

and that if I were in hurry to have
my boy married could get hold of a
girl at the steam mills. You can i'm
agine how angry was, but thought
had better leave the old fellow to
himself, and so went back and told
the poor children the result of my
visit. They could hardly believe it,
and asked me as favor to let them
go and see what they could do. had
not the courage to refuse them, and
off the couple went.
| When they arrived Maitre Cormille
had just gone out. The door was
double-locked, but the old fellow be-
fore starting had left his ladder out
side, and suddenly it occurred to them
that they would get in at the window,
which they did.
Strange to say, the large room was
empty; not sack of grain to be seen,
nor speck of flour on the floor or
the cobweb.covered walls. Upstairs
in the old mans room everything had
the same look of poverty and desola-
tion. A wretched bed, few rags
lying about, piece of brea d on the
stairs, and then in the corner sack
or two from which escaped some
pieces of chalk and plaster.
This was his secret. 1t was this
that he brought home in the evening
to save the honor of the mill and to
make believe that it still had work.
Poor old MILL Poor Cormillel A
long while ago the steam mills had
taken away his last customer. The
sails still went round, but there was
nothing to grind.
The two poor young things came
back crying and told me what they
had seen. 1t wrung my heart to hear
them. Without losing a moment I
went to the neighbors and told them
the whole tale in half-a-dozen words.
We agreed on the instant to carry to
the mill all the grain we could scrape
together. No sooner said than done.
All the village turned out, and We set
Off in Eprocession with tribe OF
donkeys laden with four-real -four,
this timel
AS we drew near we saw the door
wide open, and Maitre Cormille sitting
before it on a sack of plaster, weeping
with his face in his hands. He had
just learned that his secret had been
discovered. "Now I have only to die,
the mill is dishonored" He was sob.
bing fit to break your heart, and call
ing the mill by all sorts of pet names,
speaking of it as if it were q living
thing.
The donkeys pulled up on the green
before the mill, and we all called out,
'Hallo, miller; halo, Maitre Cor
mille," just as the customers always
did in the old days
Maitre Cormille started, and we'll he
might. He saw the sacks with the
beautiful red wheat burst out of them;
he took some in his hand, and said,
laughing and crying at once, "It is
wheat. Good heavensl it is really
wheat. Let me look at it," Then
turning to us, ''I knew you would
come back to me-" he said. "All
those steam mills are frauds" We
wanted to carry him through the vii
lage in triumph, but he would not
have it. "No, no, children. I must
go and give my mill something to eat.
1t is long enough, poor thing, since
she has had anything between her
teeth"
1t was really touching to sec the
poor oldfellow running here and there,
emptying the sacks, working the mill,
while the corn was being crushed be.
tween the grindstones and the fine
Hour dust few up to the ceiling.
Let me do myself and my friends
the justice to say that from that time
we never let the old man lack work.
But when he died the sails of our last
windmill ceased to turn, for no one
took the place. All, well, they have
had their day, like the periwigs and
stage coaches. 1t is the way of the
world. From the French of Alphonse
Daudet. ,-..-...