The daily journal. (Salem, Or.) 1899-1903, 1903-10-31

slnd from the look Of the sky yonder,@
pointing southwark. 1T is going 10
bring ON storm. How is Nine. Rous-
slllon todayT'
"She Is complaining as she usually
does when she feels extremely well"
said Alice. That's why l had to take
her place at the oven and bake pies.
| got hot and came out TO catch a bit OF
this breeze. Oh, but you needn't smile
and look greedy, Pere Beret, the pies
are not for your teethw
MY daughter. l am not a glutton,
hppe. had meat not two hours since
some broiled young squirrels with
sress. sent me by Rene de Ronville. lie
never forgets his old father"
"Oh. l never forget you either, mon
pere. l thought Of you today every
time spread a crust and filed it with
cherries. and when l took out pie, all
brown and hot, the red juice bubbllng
out Of II 80 good smelling and tempting,
do you know what l said to myselfT
How could l know, my child"
"Well, | thought this: Not single
bite OF that pie does Father Beret get ="
"Why so. my daughtcrT
Because you said It was bad Of me
to read novels. and told Mother Rous-
sillon to hide them from me. I've had
any amount of trouble about IT,"
"Ta. Ia. Read the good books that
gave you. They will soon kill the taste
for these silly romances."
II tried" said Alice. II tried very
hard, and it's no use. Your books are
dull and stupidity heavy. What do /
care about. something that queer lot
Of saints did hundreds of years ago in
times Of plague and famine? Saints
must have been poky people, and 1t is
poky people who care TO read about
them, think. l like reading about
brave, heroic men and beautiful wom-
en-, and war and love"
Pere Beret looked away with curl
ous expression in his face, his eyes half
closed.
"And I'll tell you now, Father Beret,"
Alice went on after pause, "no more
claret and pies do you get until l can
have my own sort of books back again
to read as please" She stamped her
moccasin shod foot withSdecided en-
crgy.
The good priest broke into a hearty
laugh. and, Making of his cap of grass
straw, mechanically scratched his bald
head.
Although, as Father Bcret had said,
the suns heat was violent, causing
that gentle soul TO pass his bundled
handkerchief with wiping circular
motion over his bald and bedewcd
pate, the wind was momently freshen-
ing, while up from behind the trees on
the horizon beyond the river q cloud
was rising blue black, tumbled and
grim against the sky.
"Well," said the priest, evidently try
ing hard TO exchange his laugh for a
| look OF regretful resignation, you viii
have your own way, my child, and
"Then you will have pies galore and
| no end of claretp she interrupted, at
the same time stepping to the withe
tied and peg latched gate of the yard
and opening II. "Come In, you dear,
good father, before the rain shall be
gin, and sit with me on the gallery
(the creole word for veranda) 'till
the storm is over"
There was not a photographer'A
camera TO be had I'm those days, but
what II a tourist with one in hand
could have been there TO take a snap
shot at the priest and the maiden as
they walked arm In arm TO that squat
little verandal The picture today
would be worth it's weight In first
water diamond. 1t would include the
cabin, the cherry tree, glimpse Of
the raw, wild background aud sharp
| portrait group OF Pere Beret, Alice and
Jean the hunchback. Each OF us can
see them, even with closed eyes. Led
by that wonderful guide, imagination,
we step back a century and more 10
look over a scene at once strangely at
tractive and unspeakably forlorn.
What was Il that drew people away
FROM the old countries, from the cities,
the villages and the vineyards Of beau
tiful France, for example, 10 dwell in
the wilderness, amid wild beasts and
wilder savage Indians, with a rude
cabin for a home and the exposures
and hardships OF pioneer life for their
daily experience?
Alen like Gaspard ROussillOn are OF
a distinct stamp. Take him as lac was.
Born IN France. on the banks OF the
Rhone near Avlgnon. he came as u
youth to Canada. whence be drifted ON
the tide Of adventure this way and
that. until at last he found himself.
with a wife. az Post Nincennes. that
lonely picket Of religion and trade
which was 10 become the center of civ
illzlng energy for the great northwest
ern territory NJ. Roussillon had no
children o. his own; so his kind heart
opened freely 10 two fatherless ana
motlc-'css waits. These were Alice.
uow railed ROusslllon. cnd the bunch
back. Jean. The former was twelve
years Old when he adopted her child
OF Protestant parents, while Jean had
been taken. when mare babe, after
his parents had been killed aud scalped
hv Indiana Nine ROussillOn "A urOfes,