6
WHEN THfc DOOR OPENS.
Sometimes it's early, early—
Or ever the farmhouse fires
Send up tlieir incense pearly
in wavering morning spires.
When tin sheep In nn.iks of the meadows
Are lying still.
And the old wheel dreams In the shadows
Behind the mill,
Then In the hush of the dawning, in the
silvery mists and the dew,
God opens the door a little way, and little
feet go through.
Sometimes It's when the wonder.
The hush and the dews linve lli d,
And noontide life pants under
The glare, of the nuoii o'erhead.
When the plowman's furrows are creeping
Over the land,
Or rises the whir of the reaping
On every hand—-
Or ever the swath Is finished, or the long
brown farrow is run,
Then:. n door swings open wide, and
the strong man's work is done.
Sometimes when the lamps of heaven
And the homelier lights of earth
Burn dim In the lonely i ven,
011 high, or beside the hearth,
When the children go, and the cheery
Good nights tire said.
And naught's by the tire but a weary
And bowing head-
Then opens the door where all roads end,
or run they east or west,
And child and man nnd a child again go
In and are at rest.
—William Hervey Woods, in Youth's Com
panion.
D'ri and I
By IRVING BACHELIER
Author of " Fben Ho'.den." "Darre! of
the Blessed Isies," Etc.
I
(Copyright, 1801, by Lothrup Publishing Company.)
CH A PTE It Vll .— CONTINUED.
He knew a little about rough fighting
with a saiier. lie had seen my father
and me go at each oilier hammer and
tongs liiere in our dooryard every day
of good weather. Stormy days he had
always stood by in the kitchen, roar
ing with laughter, as the good steel
rang and the house trembled. He had
been slow to come to it, but had had
his try with us, and had learned to
take an attack without flinching. I went
at him hard for a final lesson that day
in the woods — a great folly, I was
soon to know. We got warm and
made more noise than I had any
thought of. My horse took alarm and
pulled away, running into a thicket. I
turned to catch him.
"Judas Priest!" said D'ri.
There, within 10 feet of us, I saw
what me, ever after, a more pru
dent man. It.was an English officer
leaning on bis sword, a tall and hand
some fellow of some 40 years, in shiny
top-boots and scarlet blouse and
gauntlets of brown kid.
"You are quite flever," said he,
touching liis gray mustache.
I made no answer, but stood pulling
myself together.
"You will learn," he added, smiling,
with a tune of encouragement. "Let
me show you a trick."
He was most polite in his manner,
like a play-hero, and came toward me
as he spol e. Then I saw four other
Britishers coming out cjose in upon
us from behind trees.
He came a 1 tne quickly, and I met
hint. He -seemed to think it would be
no trick to unhand my weapon. Like
a flash, with a whip of his saber, he
tried to wrench it away. D'ri had
begun to shoot, dodging between trees,
and a redcoat had tumbled over. I
bore in upon my man, but he came
back at me with surprising vigor. On
my word, he was the quickest swords
man I eve r had the honor of facing.
But lie had a mean way of saying
"ila!" as he turned my point. He
soon angered me, whereupon I lost a
bit of caution, with some blood, for he
was at me like a Hash, and grazed me
011 the 1)i 1 > before I could get my head
again, it was no parlor play, I can
teli you. We were fighting for life, and
loth knew it. We fought up and down
through brakes and bushes and over
stone:- a perilous footing. I could
feci liis hand weakening. I put all
my speed to the steel then, knowing
well that, barring accident, I should
win. I could hear somebody coming
up behind me.
"Keep away there," my adversary
shouted, with a fairness I admire when
I think of it."l can handle him. Get
the other fellow."
T went at him to make an end of it.
"I'll ntaki you squint, you young
cub," he liissed, lunging at me.
lie ripped my blouse at. the shoul
der, and, gods of war! we made the
sparks lly. Then he went down, wrig
gling; 1 had caught him in the side,
poor fellow! Like a Hash I was off
in a thicket. One of the enemy got
out of my way and sent a bullet after
me. I could feel it rip and sling in
the mnsde as it rubbed my ribs. 1
kepi foot and made for my horse. He
had caught his reins, and 1 was on
him and off in the bush, between bul
lets that catne ripping I he leaves about
me, before iliey could give chase.
Drums were beating the call lo arms
somewhere. 1 struck tlie trail in a
minute, and. leaning low in the saddle,
went bounding over logs and rocks
down it steep hillside a.s if the devil
were alter nie. I looked back, and was
nearly raked off by a bough. I could
hear horses coming in the trail behind
with quick and heavy jumps, iint 1
was up to rough riding and had little
fear they would get a sight of me.
However, crossing a long stretch of
burnt timber, they must have seen me.
I heard a crack of iwstols far behind;
a whiz of bullets over my head. I
shook out the reins and let the horse
go, urging with cluck and spur, nevei
slacking for rock or kill or swale. I!
was a wilder ride than any I have
known since or shall again, 1 can
promise you, for, Cod knows, 1 have j
been hurt too often. Fast riding over 1
a new trail is leaping in the dark and |
worse than treason lo one's self. Add ,
to it a saddle wet with your own blood, J
then you have something to give you
a turn of the stomach thinking of it.
When I was near tumbling with a
kind of rib-ache and could hear no pur
suer, 1 pulled up. There was silence
about me, save the sound of a light
breeze in the tree-tops. I rolled off
my horse, and hooked my elbow in
the reins, and lay on my belly, grunt
ing with pain. 1 felt better, having
got my breath, and a rod of beech to
bite upon—a good thing if one has been
badly stung and has a journey to make.
In live minutes I was up and off at a
slow jog, for I knew I was near safety.
I thought much of poor D'ri and
how he might be faring. The last I
had seen of him, he was making good
use of pistol and legs, running from
tree to tree. He was a dead shot, little
given to wasting lead. The drums were
what worried me, for they indicated
a big cainp, and unless he got to the
stirrups in short order, he must have
been taken by overwhelming odd 3.
It was near sundown when I came to
a brook and falls I could not remem
ber passing. I looked about me. Some
where I had gone off the <>ld trail —
everything was new to me. It widened,
as I rode on, up a steep hill. Where
the tree-tops opened, the hill was cov
ered with mossy turf, and there were
fragrant ferns 011 each side of me.
The ground was clear of brush and
dead timber. Suddenly I heard a voice
singing—a sweet girl voice that thrilled
me, 1 do not know why, save that I
always longed for the touch of a wo
man if badly hurt. But then I have
felt that way having the pain of neither
lead nor steel. The voire rang in the
silent woods, but I could see no one
nor any sign of human habitation.
Shortly 1 came out upon a smooth
roadway carpeted with sawdust. It W
W
GODS OK WAR! WE MADE THE
SI'ARICS FEY.
led through a grove, and following it,
I came suddenly upon a big green man
sion among the trees, with Doric pil
lars Aul a great portico where ham
mocks hung with soft cushions in
them, and easy-chairs of old mahog
any stood empty. I have said as little
as possible of my aching wound: 1
have always thought it bad enough
for one to suffer his own pain. But I
must say I was never so tried
to Keep my head above me as
v. hen I came to that door. Two
figure i in white came out to meet me.
At first I did not observe—l had enough
to do keeping my eyes open—that they
were the Miles, de Lambert.
"God save us!" I heard one of them
say. "He is hurt; he is pale. See the
blood running off his bootleg."
Then, as one tcok the bit, the other
eased me down from my saddle, calling
loudly i'< 4 help. She took her hand
kerchief- that had a perfume I have
not yet forgotten—as she supported
me, and wiped the sweat and dust from
my face. Then I saw tlioy were the
splendid young ladies 1 had seen at
the count's table. The discovery put
new life in me; it was like a dash ot'
water in the face. I lifted my hat
and bowed to them.
"J.adies, my thanks to you," I said
in a.s good French as I knew. "I have
been shot. May I ask you to send
for a doctor?"
A butler ran down the steps; a gar
dener and a stable-boy hurried out of
the grove.
"To the big room—the Louis-
Quinze," said one of the girls, excited
ly, as the men came to my help.
The fat butler went puffing upstairs,
and they followed, on each side of
me.
"Go for a doctor, quick," said one of
them to the gardener, who was coming
| behind —a Frenchman who prayed to a
I saint as he saw my blood.
They led me across a great green rug
j in a large hall above-stairs to a eham
\ her of which 1 saw little then save its
size and the wealth of its appoint
■ ments. The young ladies set me down,
j bidding one to take off my boots, and
j sending another for hot. water. They
asked me where I was hurt. Then
l they look off my Ailouse and waist
' coat.
"Mnn Dieu!" said on" w Hie other.
"What can we do? Shall we cut the
1 shirt?"
"Certainly. Cut the shirt," said the
other. "We must help him. We can
not let him die."
"God forbid!" was the answer. "See
the blood. Poor fellow! It is terri
' ble!"
They spoke very tenderly a.s they
cut my shirt with scissors, and bared
my back, and washed my wound with
'■ i warm water. I never felt a touch so
' | caressing as that of their light fingers,
• ! but, gods of war! it did hurt me. The
CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 2, 1905.
bathing (lone, they bound mo bis wltn i
bandages and left Iho room until the
butler had helped me into bed. They j
came soon with spirits and bathed my i
face and hands. One leaned over me, [
whispering, and asking what I would i
like to eat. Directly a team of horses
came prancing to the door.
"The colonel!" one of them whis
pered, listening.
"The colonel, upon my soul!" said
the other, that sprightly Louison, ais
she tiptoed to the window. They used
to call her "Tiptoes" at the Hermitage.
The colonel! 1 remembered she was
none other Mian the Baroness de Fer
re; and thinking of her and the grate
ful feeling of the sheets of soft linen,
I fell asleep.
CHAPTER VIII.
The doctor came that night, and
took out of my back a piece of flattened
lead. It had gone under the llesh,
quite half round my body, next to
the ribs, without doing worse than to
rake the bone here and there and weak
en me witli a loss of blood. I woke
awhile before he came. The baroness
afcd the fat butler were sitting beside
me. She was a big, stout woman of
some 40 years, with dark hair and
gray eyes, and teeth of remarkable
symmetry. That evening, I remember,
she was in full dress.
"My poor boy!" said she, in English
and in a sympathetic tone, as she bent
over me.
Indeed, my own mother could not
have been kinder than that good wo
man. She was one that had a
heart and hand for the sick-room. 1
told her how 1 had been hurt and of
my ride. She heard me through with
a glow in her eyes.
"What a story!" said sue. "What a
dare-devil! I do not see how it has
beer, possible for you to live."
She spoke to me always in English
of quaint wording and quainter ac
cent. She seemed not to know that I
could speak French.
An impressive French tutor—a fine
old fellow, obsequious and bald-headed
—sat by me all night to give me med
icine. In the morning I felt as if I
had a new heart in me, and was plan
ning to mount my horse. I thought I
ought togo about n;y business, but I
fear I thought more of the young la
dies and tin- possibility of my seeing
them again. The baroness came in
after I had a bite to eat. I told her
I felt, able to ride.
"You are not able, my child. You
cannot ride the horse now," said she,
feeling my brow; "maybe not for a
ver' long time. I have a large house,
plenty servant, plenty food. Parbleu!
be content. We shall take good care
of you. If there is one message togo
to your chief, you know I shall send
it."
I wrote a brief report of my ad
venture with the British, locating the
scene as carefully as might be, and she
sent it by mounted messenger to"the
Burg."
"The young ladies they wish to see
! you," said the baroness. "They are
kind-hearted; they would like to do
what they can. But I tell them no;
they will make you to be very tired."
"On the contrary, it will rest me.
Let them come," 1 said.
"But I warn you," said she, lifting
her finger as she left the room, "do not
l'a»l in love. They are full of mischief.
They do not study. They do not care.
You know they make much fun all
day."
The young ladies came in presently.
They wore gray gowns admirably fit
ted to their line figures. They brought
big bouquets and set them, with a
handsome courtesy, on the table be
side me. They took chairs and sat
solemn-faced, without a word, as if it.
were a Quaker meeting they had come
to. I never saw better models of sym
pathetic propriety. 1 was about to
speak. One of them shook her head,
a finger on her lips.
"Do not say one word," she said sol
en. nlv in English. "It will make you
ver' sick."
It.was the first effort of either of
them to address me in English. As 1
soon knew, the warning had exhausted
her vocabulary. The baroness went
below in a moment. Then the one
who had spoken came over aud sat
near me, smiling.
"She does not know .you can speak
French," said she, whispering and ad
dressing me in her native tongue, as
the other tiptoed to the door. "On
your life, do not let her know. She
will never permit us to see you. She
will keep us under lock and key. She
knows we cannot speak English, so
she thinks we cannot talk with you.
It. is a great lark. Are you better?"
What was I to do under orders from
such authority? As they bade me, I
hope you will say, for that is what I
did. I had no easy conscience about it,
1 must own. Day after day I took my
part in the little comedy. They came
in Quaker-faced if the baroness were
at hand, never speaking except to her,
until she had gone. Then —well, sueli
animation, such wit, such bright eyes,
such brilliancy, I have never seen or
heard.
My wound was healing. War and
stern duty were as things of the far
past. The grand passion had hold of
me. I tried to fight it down, to shake
it off, but somehow it had the claws of
a tiger. There was an odd thing about
It all; I could not for the life of me
tell which of the two charming girls
I loved the better. It may seem in-
J credible; I could not. understand it my
self. They looked alike, and yet they
were quite different. Louison was u
j year older and of stouter build. >*ie
had more animation also, and always
a quicker and perhaps a brighter an
swer. The other had a face more se
rious, albeit, no less beautiful, and a
slower tongue. 1-ihe had little to say,
but her silence had much in it to ad
! mire, and, Indeed, to remember. They
, : appealed to different men in me with
| force, I did not then know wliy.
A perplexing problem it wea. And I had
to think and suffer much before I saw
the end 01 it, and really came to know
what love is and what it is not.
Shortly 1 was near the end of this
delightful season of illness. I had been
out. of bed a week. The baroness had
read to me every day, and had been so
kind that 1 felt a great shame for
my part in our deception. Every af
ternoon she was off in a boat or in
her caleche, and bad promised to take
nie with her as soon as 1 was able to
go.
"You know," said she, "I am going
lo make yeu stay her a full month. I
have the consent of the general."
I had begun to move about a little
and enjoy the splendor of that forest
home. There were, indeed, many rare
and priceless things in it that came
out of her chateau in France. She had
some curious old clocks, tokens of
ancestral taste and friendship. There
was one her grandfather had got from
tlie land of Louis XlV.—le Grand Mon
arque, of whom my mother had begun
to tell nie as soon as I could hoar with
understanding. Another came from the
bedchamber of Philip 11. of Spain—a
grand high clock that tolled the hours
in that great hall beyond my door.
A little thing, in a case of carved
ivory, that ticked on a table near niy
bed, Moliere had given to one of her
ancestors, and there were many others
of equal interest.
Her walls were adorned with art
treasures of the value of which I had
little appreciation those days. But I
remember there were canvasses of
Correggio and Rembrandt and Sir
Joshua Reynolds. She was, indeed, a
woman of fine taste, who had brought
her best, to America; for no one had a
doubt, in the lime of which I am writ
ing, that the settlement of the Com
pagnie de New York would grow into
a great colony, with towns and cities
and fine roadways, and the full com
plement of high living. She had built
the Hermitage—that was the name of
the mansion—fine and splendid as i f
was, for a mere temporary shelter
pending the arrival of those better
days.
She had a curious fad, this hermit
baroness of the big woods. She loved
nature and was a naturalist of no
poor attainments. Wasps and hornets
wore the special study of this remark
able woman. There were at least a
score of their nests on her front por
tico —big and little and some of them
oddly shaped. She hunted them in
wood and field. When she found a
nest she had ;t moved carefully after
nightfall, under a bit of netting, and
fastened somewhere about 'he gables.
Around the Hermitage were many
withered boughs and briers holding
cones of wrought fiber, each a citadel
of these uniformed soldiers of the air
and the poisoned arrow. They were
assembled in colonies of yellow, white,
blue, and black wasps, and white
faced hornets. She had no fear of
them, and, indeed, no one of the house
hold was ever stung to my knowledge.
1 have seen her stand in front of her
door and feed them out of a saucer.
There were special favorites that
would light upon her palm, overrun
ning its pink hollow and gorging at
the lioney-drop.
[To Be Continued.]
>1 i lli n«»ry llolitny.
Mi: s Johnson was an excellent teach
er, but her taste in dress, especially
head-dress, was so peculiar that even
her adoring pupils could not fail to
notice it. The verdure which appeared
upon Miss Johnson's hat one season
was so gaudy that several wondering
comments were made by the boys.
"I'm going to ask her what the green
stuff is,' said one boy, valiantly, in
spite of the vigorous objections of his
companions. "She won't mind, and
next nature-study class I'm going to
ask her, and see who's right." So, red
in the lace but stubborn, he rose at
the (iid of a lesson on wayside flowers,
in response to Miss Johnson's general
request for any questions which might
have come tip since the last lesson.
"I'd like to know about that green
stuff on your hat," lie said, bluntly.
"John Auen, he says it's beach gras3,
but I say it's onion sprouts."—Youth's
Companion.
IVrsnr»siou That Brought Confession.
"Did I understand you to say that
ibis boy voluntarily confessed his
share in the mischief done lo the
sehoolliouse?" asked the magistrate,
addressing the dele' mined looking fe
male parent of a small and dirty boy.
"Yes, sir, he did." the woman re
sponded. "I just had to persuade him
a little, and then he told me the whole
thing voluntarily."
"How did you persuade him?"
queried his worship.
"Well, first I gave him a good
thrashing," said the firm parent, "and
then 1 put him to bed without any sup
per and took his clothes away and
told him he'd stay in bed till he'd con
fessed what he'd done, if 'twas the
rest of his days, and I should thrash
him again in the morning. And in
less than an hour lie told me the whole
story voluntarily."—Cassell's Satur
day Journal.
lie Wnn Kind.
A district visitor was talking lo a
man who had recently been in that
species of "trouble" which is associ
ated with high walls and iron bars.
"And was the prison chaplain kind
to yon, my man?" she inquired, ten
derly.
"Kind, miss? Why, bless you, he
couldn't have been kinder to me if I
had been condemned to be hanged."—
Smith's Weekly.
lli* Career.
Lord Slonybroke—lt's time, Clar
ence, thai you were thinking about a
career.
Dutiful Son 1 will be guided by you.
father. Shall I go into the church,
study for the bar. enter the army c'i
mairy an heiress? —Smith's Weekly.
112 Balcom fi Lloyd, ;j
1 ========== 1
1 I
i i
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[U 111
m WE have the best stocked [p
general store in the county
r! and if you are looking for re- I
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iff prices, we are ready to serve
you with the best to be found.
Our reputation for trust
i' worthy goods and fair dealing jk
fll is too well known to sell any i'_
but high grade goods.
| I
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Chinaware is selected with
great care and we have some Kj
of the most handsome dishes
ever shown in this section,
both in imported and domestic
makes. We invite you to visit
us and look our goods over.
1 I
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1 Balcom & Lloyd. 1
□' □' □"■ ELS'
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S3O Bedroom Suits, solid tflF S4O Sideboard, quartered
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112 GEO. J. LaBAR. £
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