The Idaho Republican. [volume] (Blackfoot, Idaho) 1904-1932, 1908-02-07
DIRECTING.
A Suggestion Of Life.

the Richelieu and Ontario Steamers
this beautiful summer night. The
moon, natures searchlight, showed
him the broad expanse of the glitter
ing Saguenay river. Alone with his
thoughts he scarcely needed the
grand scenery on the banks of those
mighty mountains, reaching to the
waters edge. The chug, chug of the
wheezy engines forcing the steamer
against this mighty current, all these
made no impression on our traveller.
Wrapped in an English overcoat
he neither felt nor seemed to notice
the cool of the Canadian evening.
For it was cold. He must be far
away, indeed, not to notice natures
wonderful work on this majestic
river.
With a sigh he turned and paced
the deck. His thoughts were varied.
but through them all ran note OF
sorrow, lonesomeness, for he was a
man without home.
For three years he had travelled
from spot to spot, all over the world,
journeying wherever fancy called or
a chance acquaintance recommended.
Two days before he had left Mon
treal, the English city of Canada. The
next day French Quebec, with her
story of the past was reached. One
hours drive through her old streets
and again he was on the boat. The
great st. Lawrence, Murray Bay, all
these had failed to stir him. Now
he never even lookel at the wonder
full river on whose bosom he was car
ried.
Morning came; Bourbon morn
ing the French Canadian calls 1t, all
sunshine; clear, cool, a call for work.
Work! What call for work for him,
many times millionaire?
The steamer passed beyond the
docks and allowed the stream to car
ry it back to Its berth. The gang
planks out; all hurry, but our man
the last to leave the vessel.
Standing on the docks he careful
ly looks over the drivers with their
short pudgy ponies, and finally walks
over to the oldest driver and he the
owner of the worst looking rig.
II will take you" said he. You
are old, you will not be talkative."
This last half to himself.
So he got in and the driver gave
the customary "cluck", and away
they went at gait startling to our
stranger. Such pace was hardly
to be expected from so aged horse.
The rough pavement jostled the
rig from side to side as If 1t resented
so violent gait.
Where will your" asked the
driver.
ITO the devil, ! care not" was the
strange reply.
"Sacre, bleu! Whoa! Arrete!"
What is the natter" asked our
traveller as he watched the old mans
frantic efforts to stop. why do
you stop?'/
Pardon, Monsieur drive for
money not for hell. You say to de
devil. can not. ] am Catholic.
You must alight."
"A thousand pardons old man, !
meant no harm. Drive into the coun-
| try, where can forget. Do you und-
erstand?"
"Ah oui! Monsieur!
A month had passed and again
! our traveller Is about to take the
road. BY his side stands a white
haired old man, clad In the cossack
of a Catholic priest. A smile, al
most seraphic lights up his old with
cred face. He holds one hand OF
the stranger tightly within his own
wrinkled one.
my son, don't forget. Judge not
lest we be judged, the Good Book
says Remember my story, known
only to you and my God. Go back,
search for her, find her II it takes
your life. On your knees beg her
forgiveness II you wish again to be
happy. Do as bid you and God will
make two more in this world smile in
His sunshine. God be with you!
Au revoir, until we meet in heaven"
"Cluck," and away ratified the rig.
On his door steps, shading his eyes
with his hand, stood the old cure.
The last look of the place where he
had learned to remember in peace.
From whence he went out into the
great world to find his own.