Crittenden press. [volume] (Marion, Ky.) 1879-1907, 1903-11-05

"and from the look OF the sky yondcr,"
pointing southwark "a is going TO
siliou today
"Shc Is complaining a- she usually
does when she feels extremely well.
said Alice That's why ] had to take
her place al the oven ana bake pies. /
got hot ana came out 10 catch bit OF
this breeze. Oh. but you needn't smile
and look greedy. Pcrc Borct, the pies
are not for your teeth"
My daughter. l am not a glutton, /
hops had meat not two hours since
some broiicd young squirrels with
crc-s. sent ne by Rene de Ronyille. lie
never forgets his old father
"Oh. l never forget you either, mon
perc. thought OF you today every
time ! spread "a crust and filled 10 with
cherries. ANA when took out pie, all
brown aud hot. the red Juice bubbling
out OF IL ~ good smelling and tempting.
do you know what / said 90 myself
How could / know, my ChildT
well. | thought this. Not a single
bite of that pie does Father Bcrct get. 80
why 80, my daughter
Because you said Il was bad Of me
% read novels. and told Mother Rous-
sillon TO hide them from me-. I've had
any amount Of trouble about it,
TIA. "a, Read the good books that !
gave YOU They will soon Kill the taste
Tor these silly romanccs"
Il tried said Alice. Il tried very
hard and It's no use Your books are
dull and stupidity heavy What do !
care about something that % queer lot
81 saints did hundreds of years ago jon
times OF plague and fumuct Saints
must have been poky propl" and 30 is
poky people who care 10 read about
them. think. like reading about
brave. heroic men and beautiful wom-
cn. and war and love"
Perc Bcrct looked away with a curl
Gus expression I'm his face his eyes half
closed
"And I'll tell you now. Father Berot
Alice went on after pause, no more
clarct and pies do you get until | can
have my own sort Of books back again
TO read rs please" She stamped her
moccasin shod foot with decided en-
crgy.
The good priest broke into hearty
laugh. and, taking of his cap Of grass
straw, mechanically scratched his bald
head.
Although. as Father B"rct had said,
the suns heat was violent, causing
that gentle soul TO pass his bundled
handkerchief with a wiping circular
motion over his bald and believed
pate. the wind was momeutly freshen-
ing, while up from behind the trees OH
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 regretful resignation, you will
have your own way, my child, and
Then you will have pies galore and
no end OF clarctT she interrupted, at
the same time stepping 10 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 vcranda) Till
the storm is over"
There was not photographers
camera 10 be had in those days, but
what If tourist with one in hand
could have been there 10 take a snap
-, al, 81.
they walked arm I'm arm TO that squat
little veranda The picture today
would be worth its weight in a first
water diamond. Ii would include the
cabin, the cherry tree. a glimpse of
the raw, wild background and "A sharp
portrait group of Perc Bcret, 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 unspcakably 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, TO dwell I'm
the wilderness. amid wild beasts and
wilder savage Indians, with a rude
cabin for home and the exposures
and hardships of pioneer life for their
daily experience?
Men like Gaspard Roussillon are of
a distinct stamp. Take him as he was.
Born in France, on the banks of the
Rhone near Avignon, he came as
youth TO Canada, ,whencesb abe airifted on