Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1903-03-05

MONSIEUR MONTREUIL had been
N born with the enthusiastic soul
of a traveller; the irony of life made
him a clerk.
On the day on which he joyfully
took off the gown of the college
graduate he did so merely to ex-
change it for the jacket of a clerk in
the government service. And from
that day on, confined to the eternal
pensum of his existence, he had to
write, with a mechanical hand, line
after line, while his thoughts took
bold flights to the blue sea, to the
dense forests filled with the songs of
unknown birds, to all the vague mys-
teries which he imagined beyond the
horizon.
Year after year passed by him. In
brushing against the leather covered
chair upon which he was riveted each
one gave him a little commiserative
smile. Undoubtedly those incessant
travellers felt sorry for him who was
condemned to remain immobile.
They passed him dressed in widows
garb and looked SO sad and resembled
one another so much that Montreuil
finally believed it was always the
same which came back to him.
The hour of his retirement finally
made him free at a time when, being
quite old, he no longer knew what
use to make of the much desired lib
erty.
From that time on, having retired
to a small provincial town, he took
to reading to satisfy his passion for
travelling. He deyoured volume after
volume; the world became familiar
to him; he learned to know its ports,
it's cities, it's rivers, as if he had re-
peatedly made the grand tour around
the world.
But it seemed as if to the end a
fatal contradiction rested upon his
life. The more extended his imag-
mary flights became, the more diff
cult became his actual movements.
Gradually paralysis took possession
of his legs. Unable to walk any
longer, he was compelled to use an
invalid chair, which he propelled him
self with his hands, which still re-
manned serviceable.
That infirmity, however, did not
sour his disposition. He ever found
pleasure in being in his rolling chair.
With the creative imagination of a
child he imagined himself the pilot
in his pilot house, steering the ship
80 as to avoid the dangerous reefs,
represented in his case by the trees,
the rocks and bitches along the
roads.
Having forgotten that it was
Thursday, M. Montreuil planned to
visit one of his nieces who lived at
the other end of the town.
He took the long ane which was
always suspended from the arm of
his rolling chair, and tapped on the
ceiling to call the old woman who
took care of him.
"Do not expect me back this even
ing, Michaude. / am going to visit
Marie"
Immediately after he had partaken
of his breakfast, consisting of coffee
and milk, he started on his journey.
Painfully wheeling himself along
the sidewalks, M. Montreuil had
reached a considerable distance from
his home, when he remembered what
DIV of tho ,uaelx IL was
He at once stopped and turned
about, for on Thursday he knew he
could meet, near the old stone quar-
", an ancient mariner who had be-
come sand digger, whose company
was precious to him. That old sailor
had sailed ON every sea, had been
shipwrecked many times. The thou
sand and one things which he knew
were not to be found in any book,
and besides that he told his yarns
with words that carried with them
the salty taste and smell of the sea
breeZeS.
The traveller turned into another
road. After he had reached a point
several hundred yards from the city
he hesitated a moment. Should he
countermand the order he had given
to Michaude? After he had reflected
for a few moments he came to the
conclusion that such a change in the
arrangements was not necessary, and
continued his way upon the old road,
which formerly had been used by the
heavy teams in hauling stone but was
now deserted, since the quarries were
no longer used.
1t had rained the two previous days
and the soft ground made the invalid
cart heavy to pull. M. Montreuil was
only too glad, therefore, when around
a turn he saw the blue sailor cap and
black pipe of Perou, who came to
meet him.
"Good morning, Perou. Will you
give me n lift?'
"Why, sure / will"
"Just a little bit more Perou!"
"Now VIC have it,"
They were on o little fiat spot, dug
off one side by the quarry mel
and shut off on the other side by O
wall Of rock, over which q little