The Manning times. [volume] (Manning, Clarendon County, S.C.) 1884-current, 1902-09-24
CHAPTER II.
MOTHER AND SONS.


get their living from the street, as it
we're, none seemed t. have as few Gus
toners as the sciSSorS-grinderS, al
though they are the most useful OF
their class. and it is not strange that
on the day when the Normandy coach
was to bring a new victim to the Mar
ouis de PreSles. Pierre Fro; ;hard, the
crippled sciSsors-grinders, should have
traversed large portion of the city
without having an opportunity OF ad-
ding much to his little hoard.
His plaintive cry, KNIVES to mend.
scissors to grind" was unlike great
majority of the street cries, inasmuch
as it seemed to be the cry OF a wound,
ed soul striving for something beyond
its reach, instead of the rough, un-
meaning jargon which vendors give
utterance to in a Sing-song manner,
and which expresses nothing save a
confusion of cultural sounds.
Pierre Frochard was young man OF
about twenty years of age, but his sui
feringS caused him to have the appear
ance Of one Of many years older. HIS
face was pale and distorted, his form
bent and rniSShapen, and yet he was
one whom the careful observer would
have become deeply interested IN ana
the charitably disposed to have be-
slowed aims upon, had Pierre not been
one Of those few whom aims hurt worse
than curse.
Weary and footsore, the poor scissors
grinder had, toward the close OF the
day, found himself near the Pont
Neuf:and after aScertaining that there
were none near who were in neeo Of
MS services, he placed his machine
near one of the buildings ,and was rest
ing his aching limbs.
Chance had brought him near the
Normandy coach-house, and be resoly-
ed to await the coming OF the dill
gence, in the hope OF earning a few
sous by carrying the baggage OF some
traveller.
There was also in the vicinity a
drinking saloon, filed with noisy rerel-
ers, and whenever a fresh burst Of
mirth from within was heard, Pierre
shuddered yisibly.
The cripple leaned against his ma
chine, as though long association with
the wood and iron had endowed 1t
with sympathy for his sufferings. The
poor creature, although he had a
mother and brother, had never known
what it was 20 receive one WORD OF pity
or consolation from human being;
and what wonder he should cling atfec-
tionately to the rude machine that ac-
companied him everywhere, even If it
was the work of his own hands, and
endowed with action only when his
poor, withered foot pressed the
treadle?
For some time he remained in this
position, when he was aroused from
reverie by the closing of the door of
the cabaret, and looking up he saw a
stout middle-aged woman approaching
him.
She was in manner and appearance
an exact opposite to the cripple. Her
clothes were whole, and enyelopeG the
stout form in a manner indicative OF
great comfort to the wearer. 4 pair
Of small, hard gray eyes twinkled from
the fat. round face, which was border
ed with short, black hair, that formed
a distinct beard; and one, on seeing La
Frochard for the first time, would have
Judged her to be an easy, happy old
soul, whose only care in life was to pro-
vide a good dinner, and whose only
want was the material for good dish
Of gossip.
4 change came over Pierre's face as
he saw her. 4 change which plainly
told that his poor, bent form was to
receive some insult which would cut
deeply the great, honest heart which
it held.
In painfully limping manner he ap-
preached the woman. and in tender,
imploring voice said:
why, mother, is that you?"
Yes, it's me, you lazy good-for-noth-
ing" replied the atfectionate mother,
as she gazed at her deformed boy,
while a look Of scorn passed over her
face, completely changing her into a
hard, graSping old woman.
A look Of sorrow came over the poor
cripple's face as he put out his hand as
if to ward OFF the cruel words.
"LaZy?' he repeated. why mother,
do all the work l can"
Work" exclaimed the old woman,
as she smiled incredulouSly. You call
that work? Bah, why did heaven bless
YOU with such a beautiful deformity?
Why, to earn your living, you puny,
limping cripple-and you work, when
all YOU need to do is to sit here, hold
out your hand, and make your for
tune"
And as La Frochard finished speak
ing she turned away with a gesture
of disgust at the honest liy-
ing her son was trying to earn.
\ tear came into Pierre's eye as his
mother finished speaking, and he an
swered sadly:
Mother, l can not beg; it is impos-
sible."
Ell? Not posSible-why not?" que
ried Mother Fr0chard, in sharp raSp-
ing voice.
Mother" said Pierre, going toward
her and laying thin, wasted hand up
OH her arna, when | was an infant you
carried me through the streets and
taught me to repeat begging prayers l
did not understand. They put money
into your pocket ,and knew no shame.
But now it is now different. You drove
me OUT, ana D3ue me come mere 70 OeS.
When ! knelt and held out my hand
to ask aims in the name Of the misfor-
tune with which Heaven has chasten-
ed me, shame cholled my utterance,
and | was overcome by anger at my
own humiliation y passer-by looked
on me with pity and put a tritiing coin
in my hand. y great lump came in my
throat and my eyes filled with tears.
No, mother, l can not beg-1 can
not"
And as Pierre finished speaking, he
returned to his machine, and leaning
over it. seemed to pour out his grief to
the rude structure.
You undutiful SON." exclaimed the
old woman, in burst Of anger. You
had rather leave your poor brotherand
me to Starye.2
This unkind thrust aroused Pierre.
and he answered, quickly:
Ny brother need not starve. He
has health and strength, and yet you
him in idleneSs."
"Wny should my beautiful Jaques
i Ia l.