Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1903-11-10

poky people who care to read about
them, l think. l like reading about
brave, heroic men and beautiful won
en-, and war and love-"
Pere Beret looked away with O curl
GUS expressidla in his face, his eyes half
closed.
"And III tell you now, Father Beret,"
Alice went on after pause, mo more
claret and pies do you get until l can
have my own sort of books back again
to read rs please" She stamped hel
moccasin shod foot with decided en-
ergy.
Tie good priest broke into hearty
laugh, and. taking of his cap Of grass
straw, mechanically scratched his bald
head.
| Although, as Father Beret had said,
| the suns Ecat was violent, causing
t.lat gentle soul to pass his bundled
| handkerchief with wiping circular
motion over his bald and bedewed
pate, the wind was momently freshen-
ing, while up from behind the trees on
the horizon beyond the river a 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 ragretful resignation, you will
have your own way, my child, and
"Then you will have pies galore and
no end of claretw she interrupted, at
the same time stepping to the withe
tied and peg latched gate Of the yard
and opening it. "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 photographers
camera 10 be had in those days, but
What if 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 veranda, The picture today
would be worth its weight in first
water diamond. 1t would include the
cabin, the cherry tree, q glimpse of
the raw, wild background and 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 century and more to
look over a scene at once strangely at
tractive and unspeakably forlorn.
What was it that drew people away
from the old countries. from the cities,
the villages and the vineyards of beau
tiful France, for example, to dwell in
the wilderness, amid wild beasts and
wilder savage Indians, with rude
cabin for a home and the exposures
and hardships Of pioneer life for their
daily experience?
Men like Gaspard Roussillon are Of
distinct stamp. Take him as he was.
Born in France, on the banks of the
Rhone near Avignon, he came as
youth to Canada, whence he drifted on
the tide of adventure this way and
that, until at last he found himself,
with wife, at Post Vincennes, that
lonely picket of religion and trade
which was to become the center Of CIV
llizing energy for the great northwest
ern territory. NJ. Roussillon had no
children of his own; so his kind heart
opened freely to two fatherless and
motherless waits. These were Alice,
now called Roussillon, and the hunch-
back, Jean. The former was twelve
years old when he adopted her, child
of Protestant parents, while Jean had
been taken, when mere babe, after
his parents had been killed and scalped
by Indians. Nine. Roussillon, profess
sional invalid, whose appetite never
failed and whose motherly kindness ex-
pressed itself most often through
strains Of monotOnous falsetto scold-
ing, was a woman of little education
and no refinement; while her husband
clung tenaciously to his love Of books,
especially to the romances most In
vogue when he took leave Of France.
NJ. Roussillon had been, in way,
Alice's teacher, though not greatly in
clined to abet Father Beret in his
kindly efforts to make Catholic Of the
girl, and most treacherously disposed
toward the good priest in the matter Of
his well meant attempts to prevent her
from reading and rereading the afOre-
said romances. But for many weeks
past Gaspard Roussillon had been alb
sent from home, looking after his trad
ing schemes with the Indians, and Pere
Bcret, acting on the suggestion Of the
proverb about the absent cat and the
playing mouse, had formed an alliance
offensive and defensive with Mme
koussillon, in which 1t was strictly
stipulated that all novels and romances
were to be forcibly taken and securely
hidden away from Mile. Alice; which,
to the best of Nine. Roussillon's abili
ty, had accordingly been done.
Now, while the wind strengthened
and the softly booming summer shower
came on apace, the heavy cloud lifting
as it advanced and showing under it
the dark gray sheet Of the rain, Pere
Beret and Alice sat under the clap
board roof behind the vines Of the We
randa and discussed what was gener-
ally uppermcst in the priests mind
upon such occasions, the good Of Alice's
immortal soul-a subject not absorbing
ly interesting to her at any time.
"Ah, my child" he was saying, "you
are a sweet, good girl, after all, much
better than you make yourself out to
be. Your duty will control you. You
will do it nobly at last, my child"
True enough, Father Beret, true
enoughw she responded, laughing.
"Your perception Is most excellent,
which I will prove to you Immediately"
She rose while speaking and went
into the house.
II will return in a minute or two"
she called back from region which
Pere Beret well knew was that Of the
pantry. Don't get impatient and 60
away"
Pere Beret laughed softly at the pre-
posterous suggestion that he would
even dream of going out In the rain,
which was now roaring heavily on the
loose board roof, and miss a cut OF
cherry pie cherry pie of Alice's