The citizen. (Frederick City, Md.) 1895-1923, 1914-04-03
CHAPTER XVII.
Once More at Home.

Once More at Home.
In fewer words, with less told, Fran
co.'s straightforwardness metamor-
phosed the angry lad Harry Hampton
into follower more devoted than he
had been even in the first flush of en-
thusiasm for his rescued prisoner.
Again the boy logged his footsteps
and adored him frankly. And Francois,
enchanted to be friends again with
his friend, wondered at the goodness
and generosity Of the people of this
world. 1t is roughly true that one finds
life in general like a mirror; that if
one looks into it with a smile and
cordial hand held out one meets smiles
and outstretched hands in return.
Through all his days it had happened
so with this child of French village.
So that when the day came at last
when he stood once more on the deck
of the Lovely Lucy, loaded with her
cargo of tobacco for foreign ports,
Francois felt as II he were leaving
home and family. The long green car
pet of the rolling lawn of Roanoke was
crowded with people come to tell him
good-by. All of his soldier boys were
there, the lads trained by him, one and
all ready to swear by him or to die for
him. Lucy and Harry stood together,
and the servants were gathered to do
him honor, and people had ridden from
all over the county for the farewell.
His eyes dimmed with tears of CRATE
fulness, he watched them as the gang
plank was drawn up and the sails
caught the wind and the ship swung
slowly out into the stream.
Come back again-come back
again." they called from the shore.
Francois heard the deep tones of
the lads and the rich voices of the ne
groes and he knew that. some there
could not speak, even as he could not.
So he waved his hat silently, and the
ship moved faster and the faces on
the lawn seemed smaller farther away,
and yet he heard those following
voices calling to him, more family:
Come back again-oh, come back
again!"
And with that the negroes had
broken into a melody, and the ship
moved on to the wild sweet music.
Way Down Upon de S'wanee Ribber,
the negroes sang, and the ship was at
the turn of the river. The stately walls
of Roanoke house, the green slope
crowded with figures of his friends,
the sparkling water front-the current
had swept away all of the picture and
he could only hear that wailing music
of the negroes voices, lower, more fit
full; and now it was gone. He had left
Virginia; he was on his way to friends.
And for all his JOY of going, he was
heavy-hearted for the leaving.
The weeks went slowly at sea. but
after a while he had landed, was in
France, was at Vicques. He had seen
his mother. with her hair whitened by
those years of his prison life-a happy
woman now, full of business and re-
sponsibility, yet always with a rapt
look in her face as of one who lived in
deep inner quiet He had talked long
talks with his prosperous father and
slipped into his old place among his
brothers and sisters, utterly refusing
to be made a stranger or a great man.
And over and over again he had told
the story of his capture and the story
of his escape.
AT the castle the returned wanderer
picked up no less the thread dropped
SO suddenly seven years before. The
general, to whom the boy seemed his
boy risen from the dead, would hardly
let him from his sight; Alike kept him
in tingling atmosphere of tenderness
and mockery and sisterly devotion,
which thrilled him and chilled him and
made him blissful and wretched in
turns. The puzzle of Alike was more
unreliable than the puzzle of the
sphinx to the three men who loved her
to her father and Francois and Pietro.
The general and Francois spoke of it
guardedly, in few words, once in a
long time, but Pietro never spoke.
Pietro was there often, yet more often
away in London, where the exiled MAJ
zini, at the head OF one wing Of Ital-