The Forrest City times., 1913-08-01
coPYREM 'sos BY THE 6o6eo -nERR,ll co.

child and Beppo. unconsclously he had dropped IL. but this he did not now explain. T didn't bring one"
 Didn't bring one?"
 No said the boy, flushing slightly
 And not bone or scrap in the larder! Niggardly fishermen, A small enough wage-for going to sea and helping them"
 Oh, could have had what want ed And they are not niggardly! Only-I forgot"
 Forgot The man lifted his hands but any further evidence of surprise or eXpostulatton was interrupted by a sudden ebullition in the pot
 Left to his thoughts, the boy stepped to the window; for some time stood mouonless, gazing through a forest rlft at the end of which uprose the top of an Aladdin-like structure by an optical Illusion become a part of that locality; conjuror's castle in the wood,
 The Mount looks near tonight. Sanchez"
 Near?" The man took from its hook the pot and set 1t on the table. Not too near to suit the governor. perhaps,"
 And why should 1t suit him" drawing stool to the table and sit. ting down.
 Because he must be so fond of ? looking at the forest"
 And ldoes that-please him?"
 How could it fail to? Isn't 1t a nice wood? Oh. yes, I'll warrant you he finds It to his liking And all the lands about the forest that used to be- long to the old Seigneurs, and which the peasants have taken-waste lands they have tilled-he must think them very fine to look at. now, And what a hubbub there would be, If the lazy peasants had to pay their metayage, and fire-tax and road-tax-and all the other taxes-the way the other peas ants do-to him"
 What do you mean?'
 Nothing" The mans jaw closed D burned"
 And with no u1ther word the meal proceeded. The man, first to finish lighted his pipe, moved again to the fire, and, maintaining a taciturnity that had become more or less habit Ual, stolidly devoted himself to the solace of the weed and the compan- ionship of his own reflections. Once or twice the boy seemed about to speak and did not; finally, however, he lean ed forward, a more resolute light in his sparkling black eyes.
 You, never learned to read, San chez?"
 At the unexpected question, the smoke puffed suddenly from the mans lips. Not |"
 Nor write'"
 The man made a rough gesture Nor sail to the moon!" he returned derisively Read? Rubbish, Write? What for? Does 1t bring more fish to your nets?"
 Who could show me how to read and write?"
 "You1" Sanchez stared.
 Why not?"
 Books are the tools of the devil!" declared Sanchez shortly. There was a black man here today with paper-a writ, 1 think he called it- or service of some kind-anyhow, it must have been in Latin" violently, for such gibberish, I never heard and"
 The boy rose. People who cant read and write are low and ignorant"
 "Eh? Whats come over your"
 My father was gentleman"
 Your father!-yes-"
 And a Seigneur!-"
 "A Seigneur truly!"
 And 1 mean to be one!" said the boy suddenly closing his fists.
 "Oh, oh! So that's it?" derisively. "Youl A Seigneur? Whose mother-' Who could teach me-" Determined, but with a trace of color on his brown cheek, the boy looked down.
 'Who?" The man began to recover from his surprise. That's not so easy to tell, But if you must know well, there's Gabriel Gabarie. for one. a poet Of the people. He might do it although there's talk of cutting ofr his head"
 What for9"
 For knowing how to write
 The lad reached for his hat Where are you going?' "To the poets"