The Bossier banner. [volume] (Bellevue, Bossier Parish, La.) 1859-1952, 1901-02-28

to the sea. And in this enhancing
picture his mothers face was blotted
out as with a sponge from the slate
OF his mind; the schoolhouse was for
gotten and he limped eagerly toward
the stone wall to which clung the ri
otous wild raspberry bushes laden
with fruit. Forgotten was the sore
toe, lost sight of was the long, black
strap hanging on the kitchen wall,
and left behind was the dusty road
and all the suggestions of work
On arriving at the summit of the
hill little Mike turned in his tracks
and looked down upon the school
house. He saw the master come to
the door and ring the bell, and his
schoolmates scamper like corralled
sheep into the building. Then the
door was shut and Mickey realized
that his sin was irrevocable. He
trembled, too, when he thought
that he would have to make confess
sion to the priest. But it was too
late to retrace his steps. He was now
in the narrow path leading to the
woods. He took off his tattered cap
and the cool fingers of the breezes
lifted the hair from his forehead. As
he sat down on the grass a striped
chipmunk stopped, palpitating, on
the stone wall, and little Mikes fin
gers itched for his bow-gun. After
hiding his books in the stone wall
and covering them with dead leaves
he began picking and eating raspber-
rics until his bronzed cheeks were
covered with the juices of the fruit
The scent of clover blooms and fresh
grasses made his notrils dilate, and
while the birds sang for him from
tie trees the nodding buttercups and
saisies shook their heads at him and
saemed to say:
Little boy, you're playing hookey!"
When Mickey entered the woods
ne lay down upon the brown needles
at the foot of the pine trees and
watched the butterflies fitting over
him on yellow wings. And as he lay
there the luxury of Incidence stole in
upon his senses and the gentle sough-
ing of the pines fell with soothing
influence upon his ear. The drowsy
hum of bees and the inarticulate
voices of the wood lulled him to
sleep. How long he lay there Mickey
could not tell. He was rudely awak-
ened by a big black ant which had
crawled up his trousers leg, and a
great yellow, hairy caterpillar cross
ing the bridge of his nose. AS he sat
up and brushed away these insects a
cat-bird in a tree near by began to
jeer at him with what to Mickey's ex-
cited fancy were the words:
playing hockey! Playing hookey!"
In some mysterious manner gladness
'eemed to go out of the day for little
Mike at this cruel taunt. The odors of
the flowers were just as sweet as they
had been before, the moss at the foot
of the pine trees was as vivid green,
the swallows dipped as gracefully over
the field of billowy wheat, but the
charm of all this beauteous panorama
was gone. His toe began to hurt again.
With dropping head and imping gait,
Mickey plunged deeper into the woods.
At the foot of big rock he found a
spring. Lying at full length upon the
sward he put his lips down to the wa
ted and drank deep of the champagne
of the woods. The reflection of his face
in the spring grinned sardonically at
him. And from the brown eyes shin
ing from the cool depths came re-
proachful glance which seemed to say:
"The leather strap is waiting for you
in the kitchen!''
All that afternoon he wandered
through the woods seeking happiness,
but finding none. He few for refuge
to the birch tree, but the bark had
lost all it's old-time sweetness. The
sassafras root which often had tasted
like honey in his mouth now took on
the flavor of worm-wood. As he re-
traced his steps to the stone wall
where he had hidden his books the aw-
full consciousness came to him that he
would be obliged to tell lie in order
to escape whipping. Like thief in
the night he sneaked down the steep
hillside up which he had climbed SO
cheerfully in the morning, and five
minutes later entered the shanty. So
downcast was he and SO furtive in man
ner that his mothers attention was at
tracted to him. Just at this moment a
big humble bee wearing black velvet
vest with yellow stripes blundered into
the room.
"Are ye sick, Mickey?' said his
mother, solicitously.
'No; I'm not sick, mother" said lit
tie Mike, "but me toe Is hurtin' me"
''Well, what makes We act so
quare?'
This was uttered in such tone of
solicitude and with so kindly look
that little Mikes eyes began to over
flow as his mother tried to 'shoo" the
humble bee out of the room.
''I'm glad you're not wicked little
boy, Mickey. like thin Doolans," con-
Gnued Mrs. Finn. IF ye were I'd be
thinkin' that humble bee would be
afther stingin' ye. Shure that's what
humble bees does be doin'-stingin' lit
tie boys fur their sins!"
Slap went the end of Mrs. Finn's