Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1903-01-27

4 u II u II i III
By Viola Roseboro' 81
IS s. Is IS IS IS Z. &.
/ person. and he had his ragged straw
hat pressed to his bosom as he bowed
| low to the officer in command before
beginning to express as best he could
between the two languages his graft
| fed sense of their regard for la belle
France, when, 10, he raised his head
! and officer and men were gone, hurry
ing. backs toward him, up the street!
Strathboro people would have con-
sidered old Blossier crazy if they had
not felt obscurely that such an opinion
included an admission that he had once
been sane. an admission so unthnkable
that they contented themselves with
explaining everything on the ground
that he was Frenchman.
Yes; he was Il Frenchman. That was
still clear to even his poor confused
! brain, though little else autobiograph.
ical was. He was not old in years, not
much more than forty. but the adjec-
tive was more than an epithet; it was
descriptive of his relation to life. How
he had drifted to Strathboro he would
have found it hard to tell. He had
dim memories Of barricadcs and dan
gers and swelling emotions in his
youth, and he cherished them and
around them gathered vague senti-
ments of patriotism that still stirred
within him at the mention of France
ard Of liberty. but the changes Of the
years had been too much for his pow
ers of Synthesis. He had been hustled
through too many and too varied
scenes; he could not untangle the coil
Of memory; he was confused; he gave
it up; he lived on from day to day.
For five years he had so lived in
Strathboro. He maintained himself by
doing odd jobs Of many kinds-nursing
the sick, laying out gardens, particu
larly flower gardens and tending them
mending furniture, painting indoor
woodwork and making odd toys which
children particularly adored. In fact
he did all these things and others un-
commonly well, else in this slave own
ing community he would have had
nothing to do He never had much. and
the war had not increased his income,
but he lived some way in the queer
little hut he had built himself in
wOrnOut abandoned field at 1.-The edge
Of the town." and he had so far re.
deemed a portion Of the exhausted
land as to have flourishing bit Of gar
den at his door, which Of course was
great help for the summer. He did not
return in kind the good natured curious
contempt Strathboro felt for him. No;
in his muddlcd way he was cosmopoli-
tan and felt for his neighbors regard
that in some cases was almost affec
tion. And now today as he stood in
the middle Of the old turnpike and
watched his feeble and saddened fel
low townsmen as they started with
their armed escort upon their long, hot
march his heart yearned with anxiety
for them. He had nursed Mr.. Patten
through that spell Of typhoid fever that
had left him so weak; he remembered
Jimmy Pembroke's broken leg. never
properly set, and how much walking
always started it hurting; he looked up
at the lofty head of old Judge Caldwell
with plying awe and wondered how
the soldiers could thus humiliate digni
ty and worth hut 1t was when his eye
turned back to the hollow eyed, staring
women. hanging over gates and out ol
windows and forth from gallery steps
to see the last Of the prisoners, that his
feelings chOked him. He alone was lef.
to care for them.
In after years this whole incident
took q humorous tone in Strathboro
traditions, but the comical side Of il
was pretty well lost sight Of at the
time Several citizens, on suspicion of
aiding in the depredations of soldiers
and bushwhackers. had been shot re-
Gently in that same Tullahoma camp.
and now the wrathful general was
swearing he would keep his communi
cations open If he had to kill every
man along the whole line Of the rail
road. The sunlight seemed a glare
rather than radiance In Strathboro
that day.
Over the hill the marching men
passed out Of sight, leaving a faint
trail Of dust. like smoke, behind them.
Blossier went up the street and stopped
at Mrs. Pembroke's gate. She was
widow. and Jimmy, whose lame leg
Blossier so sorrowfully remembered.
was her only SON. She sat on her front
steps. her gray, disordered head in her
hands. Blossier barred his as he stood
there silent
"Oh, they didn't take your was Miss
GATHERINGS salutation when she finally
saw him.
"Non, madame. rest here for to
protect ze ladies. am rejoice to aid
you Of any maniere. Ze government
regard my country, VOLTA je-how you
say-I is here. Command Blossier
madame"
"There amt anything you can do"
said Miss Catherine wearily, and she
got up and went into the house. She
thought it hard that she must be both
cred by old Blossy just then.
AS evening drew Oh Blossier reflected
that in the long silent stretch Of the
hight would lie the severest trial to
"the ladies strained nerves. He put
himself in their place and conjufed UP
what he conceived to be the fears how
ering in their imaginations. His good
offices had not been rejected always
during the day. He had helped one wo-
man with her fretful sick child; he had
brought wood and water for others who
were deserted by their servants. But
what could he do at night?
He was sitting in his cabin, gazing
westward into serene, cloudless,
primrose sky. AS he got up and turned
indoors his eye fell on a queer, big
something in dark bag in a dusky