6
A FOUR-LEAVED CLOVER.
He was only a sprig of clover,
Hut he raised his head with pride
As in l looked his comrades over,
Growing on every side.
He had come with the birds in springtime
When the snow had left the ground,
A wee, little, lonesome stranger.
When he tirst had looked around.
But day by day he had strengthened,
As the sun shone glad and strong;
His leaves had widened and lengthened,
As he sang his little song:
"I'm only a four-leaved clover
Down in the meadow green;
They hunt for me all over,
And they're lucky when I'm seen."
And people passed before him.
But so quiet and still lay he
That they never dreamed they were o'er
him
When near as near could be.
So he grew by the side of the daisy,
Close to the busy feet.
Why! the rascal seemed to be lazy.
Compared with the rustling wheat.
But there came his day of duty,
For a maiden passed that way,
And her sharp eyes spied the beauty
An she heard him softly say:
"I'm only a four-leaved clover
Down In the meadow green,
They hunt for me all over.
And they're lucky when I'm seen."
Then she picked the little treasure.
And carried him safe away,
With a gentle thrill of pleasure,
Upon that summer day.
And now he's a dry little fellow.
Put away in a book on the shelf;
No longer so green and so mellow,
Rut a brown, straight, stiff, little elf.
Is all of his usefulness over
Since he's left the green meadow below?
Just you put your ear to the clover
And you'll hear him whispering low:
"I'm only a four-leaved clover.
Once from the meadow green;
They hunted for me all over.
And they're lucky, now J'm seen.
—Rev. Thornton B. Penfield, Ph. D., in
N. Y. Observer.
D'r! and I
By IRVING BACHELLER
Author of " Eben Holder*," "Darrel of
the Blessed Isles," Etc.
M J
(Copyright, I'JOl, by i'uhlitihiiig Company.;
CHAPTER VIII.—CoNTINuei».
"They will never sting," she would
say, "if ono does not declare war. To
strike, to make any quick motion, it
gives them anger. Then, mon cher
ami! it is terrible. They cause you
to burn, to ache, to make a great noise,
and even to lie down upon the ground,
if people come to see me, if I get a
new servant, 1 say: ' Make to them no
attention, and they will not harm
you .• "
In the house I have seen her catch
one by the wings on a window and,
holding it carefully ask me to watch
her captive—sometimes a great dare
devil hornet, lion-maned —as he lay
stabbing with his poison-dagger.
"Now," said she, "he is angry; he
will remember. If I release him he
will sting me when I come near him
again. So I do not permit hifti to
live —I kill him."
Then she would impale him and iu
vite me to look at him with the mi
croscope.
One day the baroness went away to
town with the young ladies. I was
quite alone with the servants. Father
.iouliri of the chateau came over and sa*.
awhile with me. and told me how he
had escaped the Parisian mob, a night
in the Reign of Terror. Late in the
afternoon I walked awhile in the grove
with him. When he left I went slow
ly down the trail over which I had
ridden. My strength was coming fast.
I felt like an idle man, shirking the
saddle, when I should be serving my
country. I must to my horse and make
an end to dallying. With thoughts
lil;e these for company, I went farther
than 1 intended. Returning over the
bushy trail I suddenly came upon—
Louison! She was neatly gowned in
pink and white.
"Le diable!" said she. "You sur
prise me. I thought you went another
wav."
"Or you would have not have taken
this one," I said.
"Of eourso not," said she. "One does
not wish to find men if she is hunting
for for —" she hesitated a moment,
1 lushing—"mon Dieu! for bears," she
added.
i thought then, as her beautiful eyes
looked up at me smiling, that she was
incomparable, thai I loved her above
all others—l felt sure of it.
"And why do you hunt bears?" I in
quired.
"I do not know.l think it is be
cause they are so—so beautiful, so
amiable!" she answered.
"And such good companions."
" >'l s; they never embarrass you,"
she wen lon. "You never feel at loss
for a word."
"I fear you do not know bears."
"Dieu! better than men. Voila!"
she exclaimed, touching me with the
end of her parasol. "You are not so
terrible. I do not think you would
bite."
"No: I have never bitten anything
but but. bread and doughnuts, or
something of that sort."
"Come, 1 desire to intimidate you.
Won't you please be afraid of me? In
deed. I can lie very terrible. See! I
have sharp teeth."
She turned with a playful growl,
and parting her crimson lips, showed
'.hem to me—white and shapely, and
a-i even as if they had been wrought of
ivi.-ry She Uuew they were beautiful,
the vixen.
"You terrify rne. I have a mind to
fun." I said, backing off.
Please do not run," she answered
quickly. "I should be afraid tliat—
that "
She hesitated a moment, stirrins the
moss with one dainty foot.
"That you might not. return," she
added, smiling as she looked at me.
"Then —then perhaps it will do as
well if I climb a tree."
"No, no; I wish to talk with you."
"Ma'm'selle, you honor me," I said.
"And dishonor myself, I presume,
with so much boldness," she went on.
"It is only that I have something to
say; and you know when a woman has
something to—to say—"
"It is a fool that does not listen if
she be as fair as you," I put in.
"You are—well, 1 shall not say what
I think of you, for fear —for fear of
giving offense," said she, blushing as
she spoke. "Do you like the life of a
soldier?"
"Very much, and especially when I
am wounded, with such excellent care
and company."
"But your side —it was horribly torn.
I did feel very sorry—indeed I did.
You will go again to the war?"
"Unless—unless— Ah, yes, ma'm'-
selle, I shall go again to the war," I
stammered, going to the brink of con
fession, only to back away from it, as
the blood came hot to my cheeks.
She broke a tiny bough and began
stripping its leaves.
"Tell me, do you love the baroness?"
she inquired as she whipped a sway
ing bush of brier.
The question amazed me. I laughed
nervously.
"I respect, I admire the good wo
man—she would make excellent
mother," was my answer.
"Well spoken!" she said, clapping
her hands. "I thought you were a fool.
I did not know whether you were to
blame or —or the Creator."
"Or the baroness," I added laughing.
"Well," said she, with a pretty shrug,
"is there not a man for every wo
man? The baroness thinks she is ir
resistible. She has money. She would
like to buy you for a plaything—to
marry you. But I say beware. She
is more terrible than 'the keeper of
the Bastile. And you—you are too
young!"
"My dear girl," said I, in a voice of
pleading, "it is terrible. Save me!
Save me, I pray you!"
"Pooh! I do not care!"—with a
gesture of indifference. "I am trying
to save myself, that is all."
"From what?"
"Another relative. Parbleu! I have
enough." She stamped her foot im
patiently as she spoke. "I should be
I WENT AWAY THEN FOR A WALK
AND STROLLED INTO THE NORTH
TRAIL.
very terrible to you. I should say the
meanest things. I should call you
grandpapa and give you a new cane
every Christmas."
"And if you gave me also a smile,
I should be content."
More than once I was 11;,ar de
claring myself that day, but 1
bad a mighty fear she was play
ing with me and I held jhy tongue.
There was an odd light in her eyes.
I knew not, then, what it meant.
"You are easily satisfied," was her
answer.
"I am to leave soon," I said. "May
I not see you here to-morow?"
"Aias! I do not think you can," was
her answer.
"And why not?"
"Because it would not be proper,"
said she, smiling as she looked up at
me.
"Not proper! I should like to know
why."
"It would make me break another en
gagement," she went on laughing. "I
am togo with the baroness to meet
the count if he comes—she has com
manded. The day after, in the morn
ing. at 10 o'clock, by the cascade—will
that do? Good! I must leave you
now. I must not return with you.
Remember!" she commanded, point
ing at me with her tapered forefinger.
"Remember—lo o'clock in the morn
ing." »
Then she took a bypath and went
out of sight. I returned to the man
sion as deep in love as a man could
be. I went to dinner with the rest
that evening. Louison came in after
we were all seated.
"You were late, my dear," said the
baroness.
"Yes; 1 went away walking and lost !
something, and was not able to find
it again."
CHAPTER IX.
Next morning the baroness went
away in her glittering caleche with j
Louison. Each shining spoke and
goldrn turret flashed the sunlight back
at me as 1 looked after them at the
edge of the wood. The baroness had '
asked me togo with her, but I thought
the journey too long. came out j
auil sat by. me awhile as I lay in the I
CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 9, 1905.
| hammock. She was all In white. A
| trifle taller and a bit more slender
[ than her sister, I have sometimes
j thought her beauty was statelier, also,
I and more statuesque. The sight of her
I seemed to kindle in ine the spirit of
old chivalry. I would have fought and
died for her with my best lance and
plume. In all my life I had not seen
a woman of sweeter graces of speech
ai>4 manner, and, in truth, I have
met gome of the best born of her sex.
She had callers presently—the Sieur
Michel and his daughter. I went away,
then, for a walk, and, after a time,
strolled into the north trail. Crossing
a mossy glade, in a circle of fragrant
cedar, I sat down to rest. The sound
of falling water came to my ear
through thickets of hazel and shad
! berry. Suddenly I heard a sweet voice
| singing a love-song of Provence—the
same voice, the same song, I had heard
the day I came half fainting on my
horse. Somebody was coming near. In
a moment I saw Louise before me.
"What, ma'm'selle!" I said; "alone
in the woods!"
"Not so," said she. "I knew you
were here—somewhere, and —and—
well, I thought you might be lonely."
"You are a good angel," I said, "al
ways trying to make others happy."
"Eh bien," said she, sitting beside
me, "I was lonely myself. I cannot
read or study. I have neglected m>
lessons; I have insulted the tutor —
threw my book at him, and
walked away, for he sputtered at
me. I do not know what is
the matter. I know I am very
wicked. Perhaps—ah me! perhaps it is
the devil."
"Ma'm'selle, it is appalling!" I said.
"You may have injured the poor man.
You must be very bad. Let me see
your palm."
I held her dainty fingers in mine,
that were still hard and brown, peer
ing into the pink hollow of her hand.
She looked up curiously.
"A quick temper and a heart of
gold," I said. "If the devil has it, he
is lucky, and —well, I should like to
be in his confidence."
"Ah, m'sieur," said she, seriously,
a little tremor on her lips, "I have
much trouble—you do not know. I
have to fight with myself."
"You have, then, a formidable ene
my," I answered.
"But I am not quarrelsome," said
she, thoughtfully. "I am only weary
of the life here. I should like togo
away and be of some use in the world.
I suppose it is wicked, for my papa
wishes me to stay. And bah! it is a
prison—a Hopital de Salpetriere!"
"Ma'm'selle," I exclaimed, "if you
talk like that I shall take you on my
horse and fly with you. I shall come
as your knight, as your deliverer, some
day."
"Alas!" said she, with a sigh, "you
would find me very heavy. One has
nothing to do here but grow lazy and
—ciel!—fat."
If my meeting with her sister had
not made it impossible and absurd, I
should have offered my heart to this
fair young lady then and there. Now I
could not make it seem the part of
honor and decency. I could not help
adoring her simplicity, her frankness,
her beautiful form and face.
"It is no prison for me," I said. "I
do not long for deliverance. I cannot
tell you how happy I have been to stay
—how unhappy I shall be to leave."
"Captain," she said quickly, "you are
not strong; you are no soldier yet."
"Yes; I must be off to the wars."
"And that suggests an idea," said
she, thoughtfully, her chin upon her
hand.
"Which is?"
"That wealth is my ill fortune," she
went on, with a sigh. "Men and wo
men are fighting and toiling and bleed
ing to make the world better, and I
—I am just a lady, fussing, primping,
peering into a looking glass! I should
like to do something, but they think
I am too good—too holy."
"But it is a hard business—the labors
and quarrels of the great world," I
suggested.
"Well —it is God's business," she
continued. "And am I not one of his
children, and 'wist ye not that I must,
be about my Father's business?' It
was not too good for the man who
said that."
"But what would you do?"
"I do not know. I suppose I can do
nothing because—alas! because my
father has bought my obedience with
a million francs. Do you not see that
I am in bondage?"
"Be patient; the life of a rich de
moiselle is not barren of opportuni
ty."
"To be gay—oh! one might as well
be a peacock; to say pretty things.,
one might better be a well trained par
rot; to grace the court or the salon,
I had as soon be a statue in the corner
it has more comfort, mcjre security;
to be admired, to hear fine compliments
—well, you know that is the part of
a pet poodle. I say, captain, to be
happy one must be free to do."
I looked into her big eyes, that were
full of their new eliscovery.
"I should like to be among the
wounded soldiers," said she, her face
brightening. "It did make me very
happy to sit by your bedside and do
for you."
There was a very tender look in her
eyes then.
She started to rise. A brier, stirring
in the breeze, hael fallen across her
hair. She let me loose the thorns, and,
deiing so, I kissed her forehead —I
could not help it.
"M'sieur!" she exclaimed in a whis
per. Then she turned quickly away
and stood tearing a leaf in her fingers.
"Forgive me!" I pleaded, for I saw
that she was crying. "It was the im
pulse of a moment. Pray forgive me!"
She stood motionless and made no
answer. I never felt such a stir in
me, for I had a fear, a terrible fear,
that I had lost what I might never have
again.
"It was honorable admiration," I
j continued, rising to my full height be-
J side her. "Toll me, ma'm'selle, have
I hurt you?"
"No," said she in a voice that trem
bled. "I am thinking—l am thinking
of somebody else."
The words, spoken so slowly, so
sweetly, seemed, nevertheless, to fly
at me. "Of somebody else!" Whom
could she mean? Had her sister told
her? Did she know of my meeting
with Louison? I was about to confess
how deeply, how tenderly, I loved her.
I had spoken the first word when this
thought flashed upon me, anj I halted.
I could not goon.
"Ma'm'selle," I said. "I—l—lf it is I
of whom you are thinking, give me
only your pity, and I can be content.
Sometime, perhaps, I may deserve
more. If 1 can be of any service to
you, send forme —command me. Y'ou
shall see that I am not ungrateful.
Ah, ma'm'selle," I continued, as I
stood to my full height, and felt a
mighty uplift in my heart that seemed
to toss the words out of me, "I have
a strong arm and a good sword, and the
love of honor and fair women."
She wiped her eyes, and turned and
looked up at me. I was no longer a
sick soldier.
"It is like a beautiful story," she
said thoughtfully; "and you—you are
like a knight of old. We must go home.
It is .ong past luncheon hour. We
must hurry."
She gave me her arm up tne hill,
and u'e walked without speaking.
"I am very well to-day," I remarked
as we came to the road. "If you will
will wait here until I get to the big
birch, I shall go around to see if I
can beat you to the door."
"It is not necessary," said she, smil
ing, "and—and, m'sieur, 1 am not
ashamed of you or of what I have
done."
The baroness and Louison had not
yet returned. M. Pidgeon was at
luncheon with us in the big dining
room, and had much to say of the
mighty Napoleon and the coalition he
was then fighting.
The great monsieur stayed through
the afternoon, as the baroness had
planned a big houseparty for the night,
in celebration of the 'count's return.
My best clothes had come by messen
ger from the Harbor, and I could put
myself in good fettle. The baroness
and the count and Louison came early,
and we sat long together under the
trees.
The dinner was at seven. There were
more than a dozen guests, among
whom were a number I had seen at the
chateau—Mr. David Parish of Ogdens
burg, who arived late in a big, two
wheel cart drawn by four horses that
came galloping to the door, and
Gen. Wilkinson, our new commander
in the north, a stout, smooth-faced
man, who came with Mr. Parish in
citizen's dress.
[To Be Continued.l
Why One llrotber Itemuim-tl Ontnlrie.
William E. Mason, who recently re
turned from an eastern trip, is telling
a story about two country merchants
he met during his travels.. The men
were brothers, well along in years,
and among the most prosperous citi
zens of their county. One of the broth
ers was moved not long ago to believe
that he should join the church. Neither
had ever paid attention to religious
affairs, but a stirring evangelist had
finally aroused the elder man to feel
that the church was where he be
longed. He endeavored to persude his
brother to join the church with him,
but whenever the subject was men
tioned the brother always waived the
subject and would not discuss the mat
ter. Finally, the elder brother said
one day: "John, why don't you join
the church if I do?" "Well, Bill, I
might as well tell you. You go ahead
and join the church; but if 1 join it,
too, who's going to weigh the wool?"
—Chicago Chronicle.
"Canned While Man."
Burton Holmes, the lecturer, says
that the Indians of Alaska regard
white men and canned goods as so
closely associated that they are nearly
synonymous. Wherever the white man !
is seen canned meats, fruits and veg
etables are found. When Mr. Holmes I
visited Alaska recently he carried '
with him a phonograph and it was ex- '
hibited to an old chief who never I
had seen a talking machine before. !
When the machine was started and the
sound of human voice came from the
trumpet the Indian was very much in
terested. He listened gravely for a
time, then approached and peered in
to the trumpet. When the machine
finished its cylinder and stopped the
Indian pointed at it and remarked:
"Huh! Him canned white man."—
N. Y. Sunday Telegraph.
Powerful.
"That'll be a powerful machine,"
said a native of the north of Scotland
to a motorist the either day.
"Yes, it's a splendid car," replied Ihe
owner, proudly.
"I suppose a car like that will be
nearly 100 horse-power?" suggested
the countryman.
"Oh, no," said the motorist, modest
ly; "it is only ten horse. A hundred
horse-power car would be much
larger."
"I wasn't going by size," the High
lander dryly explained. "I was going
by the smell of it."—London Chronicle.
Hadn't Forgotten It.
"For years I have suffered in si
lence," remarked Peckham at the din
ner table tiie other evening, "but you .
should remember the old saying that
even the worm will turn."
"Huh!" sneered Mrs. Peckham, "I •
hope you don't, call yourself a worm,
do you?" 1
"Possibly not," replied the theoret- j
ical head of the combine, "yet on the j
day of our marriage 1 have a distinct j >
recollection of hearing some one refer j
to you as the early bird."—Cincinnati 1;
Enquirer. ( 11
; "m: sap; '~rz fei?g jt-ZL
:| Balcom fi Lloyd. |
; J| ===== |
j| i
i
i:| 1
. [ ! r WE have the best stocked
general store in the county
I p and if you are looking for re-
J liable goods at reasonable ]
If prices, we are ready to serve
'[J you with the best to be found. |
Our reputation for trust
| J worthy goods and fair dealing
i| is too well known to sell any
but high grade goods.
II I
jm Our stock of Queensware and
Jj Chinaware is selected with
[| great care and we have some
ji of the most handsome dishes Ij
ever shown in this section,
Jj both in imported and domestic
makes. We invite you to visit
| us and look our goods over. Jj
L pJ II
i I
[i ffl
ffl ill
I Balcom & Lloyd. |
□'□"□ d'tELEF□"□'
5? LOOK Fl SFIA/HFRF BUT DON T forget THESE &
V LUUIX LLOLwntnt prices and facts at y
i LABAK'SI
ft ' 3 oak e ft r °° m SUlta ' B ° lid $25 S J deboard ' q uart e r ed
$ ' 2 oik e at oom SUit8 ' B ° Hd s2l ' 3B S k ldeboard ' quartered frjfj 4#
W |2 oak e lt°° m SUU8 ' B ° lid S2O S jJ deboard ' quartered Jjg.s
HK A J arge line of Dress era from Chiffloniera of all kind* and M
; rf up. prices. vj l
112
I r f .iuole u .ins and Mattings
j $ A large and elegant line of Tufted and Drop-licad
ft Couches. Beauties and at bargain prices. #
jvl The finest line of Sewing Machines on the market,
r? the "Domestic" and "Kldredge". All drop beads and
ft warranted. q
w A fine line of Dishes, common grade and China, in
ft sets and by the piece. w
& As I keep a full line of everything that goes to make
ft up a good Furniture store, it is useless to enumerate them W
all.
[J Please call and see for yourself that I am telling you TT
U, the tiuth, and if you don't buy, there is no harm done, as j?„.
Vj' it is no trouble to show goods.
t GEO. J. LaBAR. I
# / / s#v
ft V