6
THE MOUNTAINS.
Towering high above the treetops.
All their gray lone summits rise.
Till the heights in mighty beauty
Seem to touch the bending skies.
Fair the morning's golden sunlight
On their peaks in splendor lies,
And the glory ot the sunset
Lingering there In grandeur dies.
Winter's silvery snowfiakes resting
On their heads a crown descend,
And the lonely eagles nesting
Find their heights a sheltering friend.
-J. B. M. Wright, In Boston Budget.
V>| A ROSE OFM
NORMANDY
J WILLIAM E.'A. WILSOH L
CHAPTER VI.—CONTINUED.
It must needs be business of great
■fmport that wcuild take a human be
ing out in such a storm. Whatever his
object, the man's purpose never tor a
moment wavered as he fought against
the sweep of the drenching blast that
he encountered while crossing the
Pont Notre Dame. Turning and walk
ing along the river bank for a short
distance, he finally entered a small and
obscure cross-street. He proceeded
along tliis, until he was directly in
front of a dilapidated building situ
ated in the rear of the Hotel de Ville.
Here he stopped and gave a peculiar
whistle, which could not have been
heard for more than 20 paces, because
of the uproar of the storm. A dark
figure, securely mutfled like his own,
appeared at his side, as suddenly and
mysteriously as though he had come
tip through the earth. A sigh was
given and returned, and the heads of
the two men approached each other,
■while their lips moved in some myste
rious interchange of words.
All seemed well, for the first con
spirator turned, and, opening a narrow
door with a small key, disappeared,
followed by the other. They felt their
way along a pitch dark passage. Again
a key was used, and a word of caution
heard from the leader as they descend
ed a flight of stairs into a subterra
nean way. This was soon traversed,
snd a door was reached, through whose
cracks and keyhole a light appeared.
This opened into a room built entirely
underground and lighted by a large
lamp. A table occupied the center of
the floor, and several chairs were scat
tered about. A large brazier of lighted
charcoal warmed the air and dissipated
the moisture of the place. An open
ing in the roof leading to the out
side world somewhere gave sufficient
ventilation.
The door being closed, the leader
•threw off his clciak and muffler and ad
vanced to the brazier, spreading his
tiands above the glowing coals with a
•slight shiver. At length he turned
and showed by the lamplight the form
and features of Jean Baptiste Colbert,
minister of finance, the most powerful
as well as the most energetic of the
king's servants: of middle stature,
rather lean than fat; black hair, so
thin that he always wore a cap; of low
and dejected mien, gloomy air. and
stern aspect; eyes usually half closed,
giving him the appearance of great
craftiness; his outward behavior
modest and accompanied by much
seeming plainness and simplicity; so
ber, sleeping little, always alert; hard
snd inflexible of temper, beholding
without concern the misery of an infi
nite number whom he had ruined to
enrich his master's treasury, and hence
advance his own interests. Nicknamed
"The Man of Marble," he sacrificed
honor, integrity, gratitude, and every
thing else for the benefit of his am
bition.
His companion also removed the cov
ering about his face and neck. Hla
dress was that of a man of the lower
classes, his fane pale, sharply cut and
ascetic. His manner toward his com
panion was that of an inferior in the
presence of his superior in authority.
"Colbert spoke first.
"A terrible night," he said with an
other shiver that convulsed his entire
frame, and caused him to seek again
the grateful glow of the coals.
"Truly, a fearful storm," replied the
other. "But it is necessary for mem
bers of our order to lie about the or
der's business ad majorem Dei gloriam
in spite of the raging of the elements."
Colbert sat down in one of the chairs
near the table, motioned to his com
panion to approach and dry himself,
and after seizing a quill and drawing
near his elbow the ink-horn and parch
ment that lay there ready for use, he
commanded the other to relate his
story.
"1 left Quebec," began the messen
ger, for he was none other, "in No
vember and reached La Rochelle in
January last. The day after landing
I was seized with a terrible fever, con
tracted on board ship. When I recov
ered 1 found that two months had
elapsed. I bore with me a insssage
from the bishop of Quebec, who, al
though not a member of our order, is
very friendly to it. I was instructed
to deliver it to you in person and to
avoid all help from the members of
our order in France, so that none
would know that the Jesuits in Que
bec were communicating with yon. 1
started from La Rochelle penniless and
alone. Deprived of the support of my
order, 112 was obliged to beg my way.
The fever loft me with a running sore
upon my leg. By exhibiting this to
the pa«sers-by, I was enabled to get
the mone,v tp live on. A relapse coa-
fined me to bed for another month,
when I had arrived within ten leagues
af I'aris. I sent you word requesting
an Interview; you appointed the lime
and place, and here I am."
During this recital, Colbert had
watched the features of the speaker
with a keen gaze, and now and then |
made a note of place and circumstance
uporj the parchment for future cor
roboration. When he had tinished, hvj
6aid coldly:
"You have done well. Where is the
message?"
The man in reply bent down and be
gan unwinding a heavy bandage from
about his leg. The end reached, a
huge open sore was disclosed below
the knee. Inserting his little finger
within the sore and pressing from the
outside with his other hand, a small
piece of lead the shape and size of a
bullet was squeezed out from the
wound.
"A safe hiding-place," he remarked,
as he carefully wiped it; "besides, it
served to keep the wound open and
running."
Bringing the piece of lead to the
light, he pulled the ends apart, which
revealed a cavity neatly hollowed out.
Within this hole was a piece of very
thin oiled silk rolled up into as com
pact a mass as possible.
Colbert opened it and spread it out.
There was nothing visible on it, but
he opened a drawer in the table, and,
taking out a small flask of liquid,
touched the surface of the silk lightly
with a drop. Instantly a written word
appeared distinctly and then faded
away slowly. He seemed to be satis
tied at, this, so laying the message
upon the table, he arose, and turning
to the man asked if he were dry. His
companion understood that he was
dismissed, so. after bandaging up his
leg and muffling his face, he moved
toward the door, accompanied by Col
bert, who followed him, opening ihe
successive doors until he reached the
street.
When he returned, he reseated him
self, and, taking up the bit of silk, be.
gan the task of finding out what it
contained. As he applied a drop of the
secret fluid to each word he quickly
wrote it down on parchment before it
faded. Word by word he revealed the
message until Ihe end. Then putting
Ihe original away in a secret place, he
took up the copy and read as follows;
"The chlefest unions' my friends here
have urged me to write this letter to
you, promising that a trusty messenger
shall deliver it into your hands. They
beg me to implore you to use your great
power to retard and hinder the plans of
the Sieur de la Salle, who is now in
France. His projects of colonization and
exploration are in direct rivalry to the
work of the missionaries, while the ex
tension of his fur-trade with the savages
takes them out of tlip power and influ
ence of the church. Tho fathers desirs
to keep the fur-trade to themselves, and
feel that ho can do them great Injury.
"LAVAL.
"Bishop of Quebec."
In nearly every land of the then
known world, in every court and pal
ace, there were stationed secret emis
saries of the great Society of Jesus.
The minister of many a king, even
the servants of the bed-chamber, the
cloth-merchant, the innkeeper, the
horseshoer, Ihe slavey in tlie kitchen—
all were enrolled among the faithful
adherents of this mighty order, form
ing one of its important sub-divisions.
Colbert was one of these. To render
strict obedience lie should have placed
the welfare of the order above every
other consideration. But as has been
indicated, the one great impulse of
the man's life was ambition, that
could tise everything for an aid, but
would allow nothing to overshadow
it. The Jesuits were a terrible enemy,
and a most valuable ally; hence he
chose them as the latter, doing what
he could to further their plans and
win their esteem, so long as it did not
interfere with his own projects. A
serious clash of the two interests had
never arisen before. But now the is
sue must be met, for chief among his
plans for the glory of France and of
her king (and hence indirectly for his
own aggrandizement) was the develop
ment and exploration of the western
wilds of New France. Already were
the Dutch and English and Spaniards
pressing forward with men and gold,
hurrying forth exploring expeditions
led by men of courage and resource.
He well knew lhat whichever nation
first explored the unknown region ad
joining the present holding ot France
in the New World; he who planted
trading-posts and gained the aid and
friendship of the savage tribes for his
king and country, Wbukl win a conti
nent.
The dazzling stories of wealth un
told to be found in those regions
stirred his blood, for he realized that
if he could but guide and direct the
king in the affairs of colonization to
the grand realization of his dream, he
would have but to ask, to receive his
heart's fondest desire from the hands
of a grateful monarch. Upon this pin
nacle of power thus gained, Ihe world
would forget the wine merchant's son
of Rheims in envious adulation. The
reins thus placed within his hands, he
would be enabled 1O drive rough-shod
over his enemies, crushing them be
yond recovery. He would be greater
even than the king himself, because
he would have acquired such unlimited
influence over the royal mind and fa
vor that it would bo he who would
stand within the shadow of the throne,
directing wars, dictating peace, up
rooting nations, and dethroning kings.
To gain this end. he had need of just
such men as he knew La Salle to be.
It would be he that would reap the
benefits of the explorer's efforts if suc
cessful; and upon the head of that in
trepid man alone would the results
of failure fall.
Thus lost in the imaginings of fu
ture greatness, lie sat until the dim
ming of the light warned him of the
passage of time. He started up and,
quickly secreting whatever papers he
had in a hiding-place in the wall, he
extinguished the lamp and left the
room.
CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, JULY 20, 1905.
When hp reached the street he found
lay already dawned. The rain had
ceased, although it was still gloomy,
rhe working people were moving
ibout already to begin anew the toil
af the day. Colbert, well disguised,
walked rapidly along, his mind busy
Revising some plan whereby his task
masters could be satisfied without in
juring his own future purposes. Once
he came into sudden collision with a
huge fish-wife while turning a corner,
who straightway launched at him her
choicest stock of Parisian billingsgate,
little dreaming that he whom she thus
reviled was the second man in the
kingdom.
CHAPTER VII.
CONTAINING SCENES CHIEFLY
FEMININE THAT TEND TO PROVE
THAT PITY IS AKIN TO LOVE.
If the storm brought broken chim
ney-pots and puddly streets to the city
of Paris, it bore renewed brightness to
the flowers and a fresher green to the
early summer verdure of the country
outside; and to no spot did it bring
newer life and greater gladness to
flower and shrub than to Choisy
Mademoiselle.
This princely estate lay about 2 ] /j
leagues from Paris on the road to Or
leans. The broad Seine flowing past
the lowermost of its terraces, the
hundred-acre park about the house (a
fair expanse of green turf broken here
and there by the varied trees and
bushes set out by the most famous
landscape gardener of the age), the
woods on either side trimmed into an
exact resemblance of each other, made
it seem a veritable glimpse of paradise
to the dust-laden traveler as he urged
on his tired horse toward the city.
This was the favorite summer home
of Louise de Montpensier, "Madamoi
selle" (or "La Grande Mademoiselle"
as she loved to be called), only daugh
ter of Gaston, Due d'Orleans, the
king's uncle; of her who was the great
est heiress in all Europe; who in her
early youth had determined to be
queen of France, and had endeavored
to win her kingly cousin into a closer
relationship; who on the destruction
of this dream turned her attention to
the emperor of Germany; who, at the
time of the Fronde, had entered Paris,
assumed command, and even turned
the guns of the Baslille upon the royal
army; who in her day, had repulsed
the wooing of Charles 11. of England
(then in exile) and voted him a bore;
£.nd who ultimately, after refusing an
emperor, three reigning rnonarchs,
Phillip of France (the brother of
Louis), and half a dozen sovereign
princes, married a rascally adventurer
who forced her to pick up his hat and
pull off his muddy riding boots, to
show his contempt for her.
It was to this shady, restful home
that she retired when the heat of sum
mer came, to train her hounds, try her
English horses, tend her aviaries, row
on the river, or watch her flowers.
Her other castles and estates stood
j' .. y'm
I - / v°- . \ I ,
CHOISY MADEMOISELLE,
high as Choisy. So well known was her
desire for quiet when she retired there
that not even the king himself would
have ventured to intrude without a
cousinly invitation. Hither came by
special favor a few choice spirits,
Corneille or Racine to read a new play:
Mansard to show her the plans for a
new palace he was building for the
king (Mademoiselle affected to patron
ize the arts); or perhaps a bevy of
feminine friends brimming over with
gossip of the court-
Mademoiselle was by nature a bun
dle of contradictions. Understanding
politics, she had small capacity for
ruling; ostentatious in the distribu
tion of her wealth without being char
itable; shrewd in judgment, yet so
blinded by conceit that all the world
looked on and laughed at her folly; of
warlike disposition (a hundred times
more a leader or a general than her
father), yet with a woman's heart, and
in her better, softer moments display
ing a gentleness truly feminine.
Fairly good-looking she was, despite
the long Bourbon nose; tall, shapely,
with really beautiful hair; eyes blue,
mouth firm, and a finely moulded
shoulder. She had withal an air of
command that bespoke royal blood.
She was of the court, courtly; unbend
ing only at times and allowing famil
iarity in none, save her lady-in-wait
ing, or companion as she chose to call
her.
It.was on this afternoon, when the
whole earth was brighter for its
plunge-bath of the night before, that
a coach of state with outriders turned
in from the road and stopped at the
main entrance of the house. The foot
men descended, the door was opened,
and "La Grande Mademoiselle" stepped
forth in all the stateliness a queen
could show. With this regal air she
entered the long gallery, whose satin
covered walls were decorated with por
traits of her famous and illustrious an
cestors. Passing its length, she en
tered a small writing-room, beyond
which was the door leading to her own
private apartments. Opening this
noiselessly, she stopped and gazed lonf?
and earnestly at some object within.
Gradually her expression changed.
Her queenliness was gone, gone her
majesty, and the womanliness which
overcame but seldom her proud im
perious nature clothed her as with a
different garment.
The only occupant of the room was
a young girl, barely 19, who reclined
in an easy-chair near the open window.
She was clcfthed in a white gown of
thin silk, with gold stars and leaves
in Persian stitch scattered over it; a
pale pink sash was tied in a large knot
below her bosom. She was tall and
slender, with that grace of repose and
freedom of action that is only gained
by healthful country life. Her hair,
light brown and fine of texture, rip
pled about her temples in a variety of
natural waves, falling over her shoul
ders in long ringlets; eyes that showed
a brown deeper than that of her hair;
soft lashes that partly veiled, partly
displayed the glance within; lips thin,
playfully curved, yet expressing moral
firmness which could pout or pray as
her emotion demanded —a natural
beauty, unmarred by folly or the de
crees of fashion. She was the embodi
ment of youthful vigor; vigor of body
and health of mind. The soft glow in
her cheek and the calm earnest look
in her eye, 1 look that knew not evil,
neither searched for it in others, both
showed that she was not of the court
or city.
This was mademoiselle's constant
companion, Renee d'Outrelaise, only
daughter of a noble of Poitou, long of
lineage, but poor in purse. The ambi
tion of her mother for her daughter's
advancement had led her, much
against the old comte's wishes, to
send her to Paris to an influential
friend, in order that she might become
attached as lady-in-waiting to one of
the royal household. Mademoiselle
had seen her soon after her arrival
and had taken her as her personal at
tendant.
Struck by the nobility of thought,
and character soon displayed by her
protege, she chose to keep her alto
gether from the noxious vapors of
court life and allow the budding flower
to develop uncontaminated within the
bounds of her own presence. Her es
pecial fear was that her royal cousin,
the king, becoming enamored of the
freshness of her beauty, should seek
to pluck this blossom for his own re
freshment as he had so often done be
fore. Hence it was that Renee fol
lowed her patroness from castle to
castle as she in turn visited her dif
ferent estates or accompanied her to
Paris, where, lodged in mademoiselle's
city house, the palace of the Luxem
bourg, she remained bidden from all
masculine eyes, save those alone
whom mademoiselle deemed it prudent
to admit.
[To Be Continued.]
Com pi i men tar y Cont rail let lon.
A New York publisher has a repu
tation for employing the homeliest
stenographers and typewriters in the
city. Efficiency rather than beauty
is what he wants, and he knows the
prettiest ones are not the most efficient.
Just the same it is said of him that
he doesn't know a pretty woman when
he sees one. Still his wife is an un
usually handsome woman.
Not long ago she came into the of
fice, where she appears only at rare
intervals, and only when it is absolute
ly necessary. She was met. by an of
' fice boy, a bright Irish lad, who had
never seen her. She asked for Mr.
Blank.
"Who shall I say wants to see him,
mem?" he inquired.
"His wife," replied.
He looked at her in open-eyed sur
prise and genuine admiration.
"Sure, mem. I'll tell him," he said,
starting off, "and bad cess to thim
that says he has no taste in ladies,
mem." —N. Y. Times.
Untcil to Do it.
Daring the last Congressional cam
paisn the candidates for the honor
of representing a certain East Tennes
see district gathered to meet the vo*
lon* at a country court-house. There
was a rough-looking old mount-aineei
in the audience. He looked over the
aspirants on the platform with a
critical eye. One of them had done,
him several favors, and he felt in duty
bound to vote for him. "Not a very
promising lot. are they?" ho remarked
in an audible whisper to a man
three seats away. Them's only tfca
kind we used to run for constable
when I was a boy. Thar's my candi
date—that yaller-headed chap, third
from this eend. I've got to vote for
him, but I'd give ten dollars if I hadn't
seen him first." —Washington Post.
Tin* .Minister ami the Willow.
The Rev. Samuel Robbins, a brother
of the late Rev. Chandler Robbins, of
Boston, was noted for his wit. One of
his best retorts was made in Fram
ingham Center, where 40 years ago he
was pastor of the Unitarian church.
He had heard that a young widow
in his congregation was intending
again to enter the matrimonial state,
and as he knew her very well lie
broached the subject to her.
"Yes," she replied, "I feel that my
little son Edward needs a father's
care."
"Oho!" exclaimed Mr. Robbins, "so
you're going to get married to 'raise
Ned!' " —Boston Herald.
An ISxjilh nation.
Sir Robert Ball, the noted Ilritish
astronomer, went to a remote town in
Ireland to lecture on bis favorite topic.
Arriving at the station he looked for
the expected conveyance, but found
none. After all the other passengers,
had disappeared a man stepped up and
said: "Maybe you're Sir Robert Ball?"
After receiving an affirmative reply,
tho man hastily apologized, saying:
"Sure, your honor, I'm sorry I kept you
waiting, but I was told to look for an
intellectual goatlemaa,"—Cleveland
Plain -
I Baicom & Lloyd. I
| ====== I
| |1
I I til
WE have the best stocked p
general store in the county
and if you are looking for re- U|
liable goods at reasonable
prices, we are ready to serve p
you with the best to be found. M
Our reputation for trust- U|
H worthy goods and fair dealing Jf 1
ffl is too well known to sell any uj
J] but high grade goods.
9 - 1
gj Our stock of Queensware and
0 Chinaware is selected with p
f| great care and we have some
1 of the most handsome dishes |
1 ever shown in this section, jj
I both in imported and domestic j!
| makes. We invite you to visit
i us and look our goods over. IJf
m 1
n 1
1 3
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\ Baicom $ Lloyd. I
F w w 1 y w hif w w nr w 1 w w if w w w w w w wi r 1
*m. m *Bk *%. Mk xok m *l* m* mt mt *&jk mm *K*%m. m.m. mm* | |
U LOOK ELSEWHERE BUT DON'T FORGET
|| THESE PRICES AND FACTS AT
SII LaßAirs I S
M H M
|< M
|| We carry in stock ~ . | £ss
|| the largest line of Car- w
UK pets, Linoleums and S/. _ fTiTTn i M
E*S Mattings of all kinds Hf
J ever brought to this 02E^.<j|
1 Knp£ soabigline Nrt*,, BBmp £1
Avery large line ol FOR. THE
£3 Lace Curtains that can- „
m "h&r- COMFORTABLE LOW is
Art Squares and of fine books in a choice library £ *!
El Rugs of all size.- and select the Ideal pattern of Globe- **
If kind, from the cheap- Wernicke "Elastic" Bookcase. S*
F$ est to the best. Furnished with bevel French
plate or leaded glass doors. j^|
>< Dining Chairs, I &aLE ov I
Rockers and GEO. J. LaBAR,
High Chair S. I Sole Agent for Cameron County. I fc jj
A large and elegant I—. - " .. J £2
line of Tufted and Eg
|| Drop-head Couches. Beauties :nd at bargain prices. j
Ik * -7 ————-———- ft #
£2 S3O Bedroom Suits, COC S4O Sideboaid, quar- ffQfi
solid oak at 4)ZO tered <ak 4SOU
JJf §2B Bedroom Suits, (fOI $32 Sideboard, quar- C)C
Ft| solid oak at tered cak * y
F* $25 Bed room Suits, Ofi $22 Sideboaid, quar-
N solid oak at 4)ZU I tered 0ak,... Mr
M A large line of Dressers from I Ch Homers of all kinds and H
|| $* up. all prices. ||f
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|d The finest line of Sewing Machines on the market,
»g the "DOMESTIC" and "ELI RILGE.' All drop- |g!
M"* heads and warranted.
a A fine line of Dishes, common grade and China, in £2'
*2 se ts a "d by the piece.
fl As I keep a full line of everything that goes to
N make up a good Furniture store, it is useless to enum-
M erate them all. ||
|| Please call and see for yourself that lam telling ||
kg you the truth, and if you don't buy, there is 110 harm y
done, as it is no trouble to show goods.
•1 GEO. J .LaBAR. »
M TJ]NI'DEiFITiII2LI]MO. si
r% 2T 112 2 *£3T HZ r *** m ** *
it Mt mm ttk m**ma nt A A jt m**m * * m JS&. a%m. m a