Edgefield advertiser. [volume] (Edgefield, S.C.) 1836-current, 1899-03-29

tafa heFce pTasse.E.--
clever scholar. Though he @msskes,.
spasmodically, he often stood at the
head of his class. They used to say
that he talked at night in the dormi-
tory and walked in his sleep. None
of us could swear to it, for We never
woke after our heads once touched the
pillow
For long time I WAS more curious
about him than fond of him. We sud-
denly grew great friends on m eScur-
sion that we all took together to the
abbey of Mont st. Michel. We had
walked barefooted along the shingle,
carrying our shoes and our luncheon
on the end of our sticks, all singing
at the top of our voices. We crossed
the drawbridge and sat down side by
side on one of the old cannon, rusted
by five centuries of rain and spray.
Looking with his dim eyes from the
old stones to the sky, swinging his
bare feet, Alexandra abruptly spoke
to me:
''I should like to have been knight
in the old wars. I would have taken
hundred cannon. I wculd have
fought single handed on the ramparts,
and the Archsngel st. Michael would
have stood over my head like white
cloud.
From that day on I understood
far better than before my schoolmate's
character. I discovered that it was
founded on IN immense pride that I
had not suspected. I need not tell
you that at fifteen I was not pro-
found psychologist, and Mansel's
pride was too subtle to be at first evi-
dent. 1t extended itself to vague
chimeras and had no tangible form.
Yet it inspired all my friends senti-
ments and gave sort of unity to his
whimsical, incoherent ideas.
During the vacation following our
excursion to Mont st. Michel, Mansel
invited ME to spend a Gay at his
parents home at ST. Julien. Secur-
ing my mothers rather unwilling con-
sent, started of, il white vest and
blue tie, early one Sunday morning.
Alexandra, smiling like a happy
child, was waiting for me on the thresh-
old. He led me by the hand into the
"best room. Though the house
half rustic, half bourgeoise was
neither poor nor disorderly. 1 was OPP
pressed on entering it, so silent and
sad il was. Near the window, whose
slightly parted curtains denoted q cer-
tain curiosity, was seated a woman to
all appearances old-perhaps not so
old rs she looked. She was thin and
sallow; er eyes glittered in their dark
sockets under their Redeemed lids. In
spite of the warm summer day she
was swathed, head and all. in black
garments. But the strangest thing
about her was the metal circlet that
clasped her brow like >ttiadem.
''Here is my mother; she has her
neuralgia"
Nine. Mansel made me welcome in
faint voice and, observing my puz
zled look, said, smiling:
''My young sir, what you take for a
crown is magnetic circle l wear to
cure my headaches. :"
Mansel led me into the garden,
where we caught sight of little bald
man gliding down the path like a
phantom. He was so frail and slight
that he looked as if the wind would
blow him away. His uncertain gait,
his long, thin neck craned forward,
his head no bigger than your fist, his
sidewise glances, his hopping steps,
his short arms raised like wings, gave
him quite the appearance of some new
sort of fowl Ny companion told me
that it was his father, but that we
must let him go to the poultry yard,