The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1911-10-23

met Emily. the shy little dark-haired pretty daughter and Philop,ene the buxom Genoese who waited table, wonder if Ruth remembers the first night, when g gallant, white-haired old Frenchman cautioned her to save her knife and fork because she wouldn't be given another pair that meal?
 It all happened SO long ago. before we all became serious; it happened in a time before careers And only yesterday old Philomene said:
 ']Ou est Ia madmoiselle? No conner"
 'fNo come no more. Philomene," had to 
 "Aw. she nice-a girl yo' girl She purity, p1te. Yo' better git Ter back, msieu'; she mica girl"
 She's the sweetest girl that lived, Mena" I said into my wine. And her black eyes snapped and she answered solemnly
 "Dat'sa right, m'sieu."'
 But Ruth has gone as old Blumenstaub has gone; and gone. too, is the white-headed French man who shufaed down to his morning omelet in dressing gown. slippers. and pipe. Only the old black cat stands stanchly by her post delivering to earth cargo after cargo of little ebony kittens Eheu! Ehodem My outer ear now hears the rush of l. train; but my inner one- think 1t vibrates to some in the old days tainty singing:
 Si venez avec moi
 Gu. Ia, la! Ou Ia, la!
 After Ruth left moved over to the table of the grande famile. was shy at first, conscious of my single forlornness and probably dwelling over former meals far fondly than over those then upon my plate. Gradually, however became aware of big, forid man upon my left who talked Hn audiencecompelling. strident voice-not that the shout itself was marvellous for every of the famille talked at once and all the time with both hands in the air. eyes snapping lire, warike mustaches abristle with the conver sationa combat of the Romance tongue but because now and then this Hercules gave vent to a round suttural German oath-and am German noticed the speaker more minutely His build was that of wrestler, but he used his muscles with the string-halted indecision of old age his hair was gray, and bald the crown of his head; he ate voluminously and talked with suriy Teutonic aggressiveness, manifestly ill placed among the volatile French and italians who sur. rounded him. Later got his ear sThe wine is excellent" said in his own tongue
 He beamed. "Ah, you speak German" he cried with the old enthusiasm of these people when they find another of their race. Somehow. to Teuton 1t seems the wonder of wonders that anyone shall deliberately come into a foreign place possessed of knowledge of the German language That is my wine I mean sell it to Gallo It from California-hum- pretty good red wine. wines go. Now. you see there are wines and wines. .. . :"
 The ice broken. Blunenstaub and became cronies.
 It went on that way a long, long time, and got to know many twists and turns to the old mans nature in the course of it all, but that is not what am thinking of tonight since left him. am not thinking of man. nor a character nor condition.
 I am thinking of remark
 You know how, out of the great swirl of things heard, some little thing-perhaps it is happy per. haps sardonic, perhaps innocent, perhaps sad sticks in your memory foolishly while more inn portant things slip carelessly by. You remember what Bella said about hat you wore four springs ago. recall friends remark made at college, that my voice grew nasal under stress of excite ment. Somebody else said something trivial about cabs, teeth, or geraniums
 None of these really mattered at all; yet here after a year-nay. a half dozen years-we can