Middlebury register. (Middlebury, Vt.) 1886-1937, 1903-10-23

IL
pointing southwark, lit is going to
bring on n storm. How is Nine Rous-
sillon todayi'
She is complaining as she usually
does when She feels extremely we'll"
said Alice. That's why lHd to take
her place at the oven and bake pies. 1
got hot and came odt to catch bit of
this breeze. oh, but YOU needn't smile
and look greedy, Pcrc Bcrct, the pies
are not for your teeth"
My daughter, | am not Il glutton.
hope. had meat not two hours since
some broilcd young sui rcls with
cress. sent me by Rene de lionville He
never forgets his old father"
"Oh, | never forget you either, mon
| pere. | thought of you today every
/ time | spread Il crust and flied it with
| cherries. and when | took out pie all
| brown and hot, the red juice bubbling
out of it so good smelling and tempting.
do you know what said to myscfT'
How could know, my childT
"Well, | thought this: 'Not Il single
bite of that pie does Father Berct get. :"
why so, my daughterf"
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.
TIA. ia! Read the good books that
gave you. They will soon kill the taste
/ for these silly romances."
81 tried" said Alice. II tried very
hard. and it's no use. Your books are
1t1 -ttr l.,
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 it 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
GUS expression in his face, his eyes half
closed.
And I'll tell you now. Father Berat."
Alice went on after a pause, mo more
claret and pies do you get until can
have my own sort of books back again
to read as l please" She stamped her
moccasin shod foot with decided en-
/ crgy.
The good priest broke into hearty
laugh, and, taking off his cap of grass
straw, mechanically scratched his bald
| head.
Although, as Father Beret had said,
/ the suns heat was violent causing
/ that gentle soul to pass his bundled
handkerchief with wiping circular
motion over his bald and believed
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 regretful resignation, you will
have your own way, my child and
"Then you will have pies galore and
no end of claretv she interrupted, ut
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"
Ghe creole word for veranda) It'll
the storm is over"
camera to be had in those days, but
what if tourist with one in hand
could have been there to take snap
shot at the priest and the maiden as
they walked arm i'll arm To that squat
little vcranda. The picture today
would be worth its weight III Il first
water diamond. 1t would include the
cabin the cherry tree. glimpse of
the raw. wild BACKGROUND and a sharp
. portrait group OF pere Berct. Alice and
Jean the hunchbacll. Each of us can
see them, even with closed eyes. Led
10y that wonderful guide, imagination,
we step back a century and more to
look over a scene ut 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 q home and the exposures
and hardships of pioneer life for their
daily experienced
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 a
youth to Canada, whence lie drfted on
the tide of adventure this way and
that, until at last he found himself
with wife. at Post Nincennes. that
lonely picket of religion and trade
which was TO become the center of civ
liking 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, a child
of Protestant parents, while Jean had
been taken, when n mere babe, after
his parents had been killed and sea lped