6 "€llllll A CONFESSION. [in > ou remember, Utile wife. How years ago we two together Saw naught but love illumine life 111 sunny days or winter weather? Do you remember how we two Would stare into each other's eyes. Till all the earth grew heavenly blue. And speech was lost in happy sighs? Do you another thing recall, That used I j happen often then; How, simply passing in the hall. We'd stop to smile and kiss again? Do you remember how T sat And, reading, held your hand In mine. Caressing it with gentle pat- One pat for ©very blessed line? Do you recall while at the play Through hours of agony we tarried The lovers' griefs brought lis dismay: Oh, we rejoiced when they were mar ried. Ah me, 'twas years and years ago When all this happened that I sing, Ami many a time the winter snow Has slipped from olive slopes of spring. And now—oh. nonsense! let us tell; A tig for laugh of maids or men! You'll hide your blushes? I'll not. Well— We're ten times worse than we were then. —W. J. Henderson, in Century. p A ROSE OF M, NORMANDY g WILLIAM R. A. WILSON U CHAPTER XVI —Continukd. The governor came daily, and strove with real distress to encourage the sufferer. Madame Bizard appeared fre quently too, telling her of the outside world and urging her to a quick con valescence. But somehow the desire to recover was lacking in the patient. It was as though a spring had snapped within her leaving inertia instead of energy, and a desire to slumber on in sweet forgetfalness rather than the determination to resume the weary load of life again. But her release was not to be, and as she slowly be gan to regain ground she found relief and her chiefest pleasure in the com panionship of the nuns who nursed her. Their life in its seclusion and usefulness appealed to her heart, and gradually the fancy for a religious life became strengthened to a determina -1 ion. Her own existence would always he a blank, and could she do better than to fill out her remaining years in the service of God? He had evidently had a purpose in permitting her to Jive, almost against her will. When she first told Frontenac of her decision he stormed and swore he would ship her back to France; then, as he saw that she remained unshaken in her resolution, he finally suggested a compromise to which she agreed. This was that she was to remain with the nuns for two years as a donnee or religious helper who has taken no vows. If, after this novitiate she still persisted in her purpose, he would offer no objection to her entering the sisterhood. He hoped that in so long a period events would alter conditions In France so that she could be sent home in safety. It was indeed the Comte de Miron whom Renee had seen as she looked out of the window. Tonti's sword point, it-entering his breast had touched a rib and, glancing upwards, had wounded the lung tissue severely, barely missing the heart. The copious hemorrhage that followed well-nigh strangled him. His faithful coachman finding that he still breathed had taken him to a house on the outskirts of Paris, called a leech and summoned one of the Comte's friends, whose name he had given liim before the duel for use in any such emergency. Together they combated the enormous loss of blood and weakness that fol lowed. On convalescing, his friend, learning of the king's expression of satisfaction in the supposed death of the Comte, hurried him away to an estate in Brittany. There they abode together for many months, riding and hunting. As spring came his faithful confi dant, went to Paris to see if it. were safe for him to come lo life again. He re turned in a month with bad news. One of the Comte's numerous pecula tions in the state funds, which he had committed while-secretary to Colbert, had come to light, rendering it hazard ous for him to appear again in Paris or even remain in France, for if by any chance he were apprehended it would mean the loss of his head. According ly. they laid their plans and he was hurried aboard the next ship that sailed for New France. This happened to be the one on which Renee traveled. Both of them seeking to escape ob servation seldom left their cabins. Hence it was that each was Ignorant of the other's presence. Bearing a letter to Duehesneau from a friend, the Comte presented himself at the palace Immediately upon his ar rival. Staying at the palace he soon became acquainted with all of Duclies iichu'h friends and agents. It was there that he met Madame 81/.ard, who had c'-iue to make her regular report T'i the Intendant. of all she had learned. Ho had refiilm-l from going about the <*lly to any great extent, hence had never een Itenee; and it was while on an ci land for Due In ma 1 th-it he had caught a gllii'fis • of Madam* 1 111/ aid' face at the vMoW, .m.i rsnwbef lug her Invitation to tall, had stopped. Well supplied wlih money, which he spint l urelcmly, he * »in rtj i'l# many W 111 II I 1i.,1 I ~ I, l:.<j SU-X'-p- tlble Madame Bi/.ard, Duehesneau urged him to continue in his atten tions, hoping that the young Comfy, might he thus thrown with Lieut. Bi zard in a frieAdly way and ultimately win him over to the side of the ia tendant. Frontenac before long became con scious; ol' a new force that was aiding his enemy, insidiously undermining his influence among many of his adher ents. He was at a loss to account for this, and it was some time ere he sus pected the stranger. Finally, several discoveries confirmed his suspicions, and he realized that in the person of the young man there lay a useful ally for the intendant and a dangerous enemy to himself. He was powerless to do anything, however, as the Comte, although an acknowledged friend of Duehesneau, was still louder in his professions of friendship and respect for the governor and the colony, so Frontenac was obliged to bide his time lint il by some overt act or word he would lay himself liable to legal in terference. The mischief that he made became so great that the governor was des perate. At length an audacious speech made by the Comte de Miron one even ing was reported to him. He saw his opportunity. The Comte was brought before the council, and several wit nesses testified to having heard him boast ingly remark that there was nothing like righting one's wrongs oneself, and that when the English cut off the head of Charles I. they did a good thing, besides several utterances of a similar tenor. He was, therefore, accused of speaking ill of royalty in the person of the king of England, and uttering words tending to sedition. The intendant and his followers in the council did their utmost to protect their ally, but in vain. Frontenac's influence carried the day and he was adjudged guilty. The governor forced the council to impose the most humil iating penalty possible, in order to discourage any others from taking up the cause of Duehesneau. According ly, he was dragged ignominiously from prison by the public executioner and led by a rope around his neck, with a torch in hand, to the gate of the Cha teau, there to beg pardon of the king; thence to the pillory of the lower town, where he was branded on the ehee'. with a fleur-de-lis and set in the stocks for half an hour; then he was led bac'. to prison and placed in irons. This was to be repeated three times. The man while passing through the terrible ordeal of the day had seen th ? face of Madame Bizard in the crowd, who smiled and nodded encouragingly They had become great friends, and the Comte was glad to find one kindly glance. The room in which he was confined was on the ground-floor of the Chateau. Scarcely had he thrown himself exhausted upon the bed placed beneath the little grated opening that admitted air and light, when a sum mons at the door engaged his guard's attention for the moment. Just at this juncture the prisoner felt something drop on his chest from above, and saw that a tiny parcel had been thrown in through the window. He quickly opened it and recognized a key fitting his fetters, wrapped in a piece of pa per, on which was written; "Escape to-night at 11; there is worse in store for you. You will find all the doors unlocked." There was no name signed, but he recognized the writing. At dark his jailer left him and was ieplaced by four trusty soldiers of Frontenac. They examined his irons and then left him to himself, a seem ingly half-unconscious being, huddled upon the bed near the door, which was fastened upon the inside by an iron cross-bar. After their conversation be gan to flag they stacked their arms, took the one light in the room to a further corner, leaving the bed in a half shadow, and proceeded to pass away the time with cards. The prison er hearkened to a distant clock in the Chateau striking ten and heard the sounds of closing the building for the night as the inmates retired. Care fully he inserted the key into the lock of the iron on his right hand, which was freed; then into that of the left, and it was liberated also. Slowly he reached down, watching with half dosed eyes the group of soldiers in the corner attentive to their game, and withdrew his legs from the encircling fetters. He waited impatiently for the clock to sound 11 and wondered what he would do if lie found his informa tion false. Perhaps It was all a trap to induce him to attempt to escape! He would chance it. Eleven o'clock struck; the players laughed guardedly at their game. He arose, and with one bound seized the four guns. •The rattling noise attracted the at tention of the soldiers, who started up only to find their prisoner freed and with one of the guns pointed at them. Before they recovered from their as tonishment lie had slipped the bolt; the door swung open. Speeding down the corridor, he found the doors that barred his way were all unfastened. Ho heard the shouts of alarm raised by the soldiers; the last door opened into the night air; he was free! The next day all Quebec was astir with pearch-partles hunting for the rscaped prisoner; he was not found. The day after it was learned that Madame Bizard had disappeared also. CHAPTER XVI! PTTOTV3 HOW rr.OHF.t.Y Till: |OR. TUMN or LOVa AM) WAR MAY III'; I.NTKKWOVIi.V. If the French had dangers and dis turbances within the citadel of Quebec, Hie white settlers and sell neurs out side the protection of Its guns were menaced by perils even more deadly. The gnat red plague had broken out again. From the southward It came creeping up In tiny patches here mi l there throughout the forest, stealing nol*4lt dy t hrour.li smith hi and hud-, ui:ttpiuy stealthily from tree to 1/ e, gltdlug Btea-iii; on rd toward* CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 21, 1905. the north. Often two or more of these patches met, coalesced, then moved ahead again, growing more wary as the river was approached, hiding be hind rotting logs and beneath tangled underbrush all the day and issuing forth at night to resume the broken journey. At last the outer edge of tiie pest reached the brink of the St. Lawrence and peered furtively from behind the parted foliage for any sight, of life upon the surface of the water, then retreated into the darkness, there to skulk in fiendish preparation. Along the shore it sped opposite Que bec and down the river towards the sea. One night the settlers heard the moaning of the wind and the splash ing of the spring rain, and smiled and thought bow needful it, was for the tender, growing crops. But men neither smile nor tend crops when the red plague is abroad. That night the stream was crossed and the unseen scourge spread itself through the miasmatic bogs, hiding within the dark recesses of the virgin woods, all si len 1 12, mysterious, noxious. Then when all the clearings had been surrounded and tlie darkness of a cloudy night had rendered it a fit, season for things foul and infernal, the pestilence lying dormant in the hidden places of the land awoke. There was the silence of death with out; no wind stirred the leaves; the very wild- beasts had lied in terror, leaving their haunts vacant and dumb; the earth seemed to shudder as il' in horror of the grewsome flood her surface would have to drink that night. A red light flashed its glare upon the darkness; a savage yell broke Ihe tension of the awful mo ment; a woman's scream pierced the very heart of nature; a stream of blood gleamed near the flames—the red plague had come, and the wood 3 were filled with the flitting forms of human demons as the bloodthirsty Iroquois rushed to the attack. After her recovery Renee had given herself over to her new work with an enthusiasm that the nuns applaud ed. Until she regained her strength she was kept employed with her needle. Eventually she was permitted to carry out her great desire, that of nursing the sick. Soon the fame of "L'Ange," the beautiful nurse, spread through all the town and many tales were told of her angelic sweetness by the poor fellows after their recovery. She was kept busy with her merciful ministrations, for the hand of disease lay heavy on the place that winter, and many settlers, their strength re duced by the scarcity of provisions, due to the crop's failure of the previ ous season, fell victims to numerous diseases and were brought to the nuns for their gentle care. Often calls came from the outlying seigniories for nurses togo and attend those too ill to be removed to the city. These were cheerfully answered by the nuns, Renee going several times herself. It was in response to one of these demands in early spring that she begged permission of Frontenac to go. The comte hesitated an instant, be cause the seigniory to which she was summoned lay some ten leagues up the river, farther off than any previous call had been. But as there was no special reason for fearing immediate trouble with the Indians, and he could send a goodly party to escort her, he could not find it in his heart to refuse her urgent request. The little settlement to which she went consisted of half a dozen farms, each with a house of the farmer upon it. At a spot centrally located was the home of the seigneur, flanked with various buildings, among which was a blockhouse where was kept the pow der and other warlike munitions, in cluding a small cannon. This was built to serve as the last defense against an attacking force. About the group of buildings was a palisade, with a bastion erected at each corner. In times of trouble with the Indians the families retired to this enclosure, aban doning temporarily their homes. The seigneur and his wife had spent the winter in Montreal, leaving affairs in charge of the bead farmer. Through improper management two of the servants employed about the seigniory had fallen ill with scurvy and were in good chance of dying from sheer neg lect, hence the urgent message for help sent to Quebec. When Renee arrived there she found besides the sick men a couple of half grown girls, two boys, sons of the seigneur, aged 10 and 12, and an old man of 80, also the wife of one of the farmers, who stayed to do the cook ing, and two soldiers loaned by Fron tenac to guard the seigneur's posses sions in his absence. The other de pendants were scattered about on the outlying farms with their families, all hands at work as befitted the season. Renee managed within a few days after her arrival to secure some order out of the confusion, and her attention to cleanliness and matters of diet soon showed good results in the improved condition of her patients. The little spare time she had for herself she usually spent in walking down to the landing place or strolling along the bank of the stream. One afternoon while standing with the younger of the two boys looking up and down the river, while he played at skipping stones, she uoticed several times a sound as of the muffled reports of fire arms. Thinking It strange, she gazed in the direction from whence the uolse came, and was surprised to see a wom an suddenly emerge from the woods and run speeding across the clearing towards th« house."The Iroquois!" she cried 111 terror. Rene.-'g young mm pan I a stopped bit play, and, after shading Ills cycN and gazing intently an Instant, si d her hand, e\i lalin lng, "Run, mademoiselle, run! Here come the Indians!" and a.the spoke ■lie saw some 5o or t»o painted aavag< 1 bri alt from cover. Ah they sp. d 10- MitiUd the gate, the brave boy uij/.U her on. yet keeping a pace behind bc as to guard her. The d'stance was but short, and the Indians, seeing they could not capture them, stopped and began to fire. The bullets whizzed by tiie ears of the fugitives, but they remained unhurt. The woman reached the sate before them and would have shut it in their faces had not Renee called to her to wait. Once inside, the two fastened it securely. Hence has tened to find the men, but no one was in sight. There was little time to lose, so after sending the boy to find them she set about herself to inspect, th 3 defenses. It had been so long since any danger had presented itself that they had been allowed to get out of repair. She found that several of the palisades had fallen down, leaving openings through which the enemy could easily enter. By this time the boy had returned, bringing with him only his brother and the octogenarian, both of them willing but feeble hands. The soldiers and the women were not to be found. With encouraging words Renee made use of the material she had, and with their assistance soon raised the fallen palisades into posi tion again. She then directed one of the boys to fire at the Indians from the loopholes, while the other beat a drum violently. She then went to the blockhouse where the ammunition was stored and there found the two soldiers huddled up in a dark corner with the women folks, one hiding his head, the other with a lighted match in his hand. "What are you doing?" Renee cried. "I shall light the powder and blow us all up," was the reply. "You are a miserable coward! Leave this place!" was her contemptuous command. Finding herself thus deserted of all expected aid, Renee's spirit rose, so, throwing aside her head-gear, she put on a man's hat and, seizing a gun, called to the two boys, saying: "Let us fight to the death. We are fighting for our country and our religion. Re member that gentlemen are born to shed their blood for the service of God and the king. I, too, am of gentla blood and will serve with you." [To Re Continued.] Rebelled at last. He was a suburban amateur garden er, whose pride in his tiny garden was apt to bore his friends. The other day lie had taken a visU tor round his retreat, expatiating at length on the four rose trees, pocket shrubbery, half-inch fountain jet, with its little basin and pair of gold fish, and the summer-house which wouldalmostadmittwo persons at once. The long-suffering endured it all without retort, until he was asked to admire a 20-foot "vista." Then the worm turned. "The 'grounds' are certainly very handsome," he 'said, "but I think you might improve them considerably." "How so?" questioned the owner, divided between gratification and wounded pride. "Well, if I were you," suggested his critic, blandly, I should take a strip off that flower-bed-say four inches wide-turf it over, and con vert it into golf links!" —Stray Stories. FVU Down Attain. Mr. Makinbrakes was congratulating the hostess on the success of the re ception. "It's astonishing," he said, "to see how many nice people you have suc ceeded in getting here this evening, though, of course, it isn't at all aston ishing. They—they've got to so some where, you know, and—well, what I mean is that —as I was saying to that well-known doctor over there by the— er—artificial palm—l can't remember his name just now—l was saying to him that the refreshments alone would compensate one for coming here, even if—because they really are surprisingly good. Mrs. Thompson—Johnson, I mean —and 1 shouldn't have said surprising ly, either, because, when it comes to refreshments, everybody knows you are—don't you . think 'Parsifal' is just a little too sombre, Mrs. Johnson?" —Chicago Tribune. The Doctor Wns Out. She was a maid who had been with the doctor for years, and the habitual expressions of those years could not be easily laid aside. When the doctor died she remained at, the house. An old friend of the doctor, who had been abroad and had not heard of his death, called and was admitted. "I would like to see Dr. IT,"he said. "I'm sorry," said the maid, "but the doctor is dead!" Stricken by this dread intelligence, the visitor sat silent for some minute 3. After waiting some time the maid ventured timidly— "Will you—will you—wait?"—Lip pincott's Magazine. II•-I■■<-<! <0 Be I'lmt. A mother of three little boys who had gone to the country to spend the summer received the following postal from the eldest: "Dear Mother: "I wanted to be the first, to write to you, so wrote this be fore I left home, and will mall It when we reach Livingston. We are all well and sound. "Excuse the writing, because you keep coming into the room. Your lov ing son, William." The mother had said she would Bend a dime to the one who wrote the first, and Master William had determined to be at his brothers, si he literally "took time by the forelocl —Llppincott.s. Tli<9 old One. A < | 1 yman was 1 ir« tchlng on the "Parable of the P«odl' al Si n," and when it came to killing the fatted calf he enthavored to heighten the in tercut by the following touch: "Not a calf, but the calf; the old familiar «»lf that had b>< 11 In the family tor \<*ar and ymr* uud years.** bimiho Weekly. JBBS strg aspgj i Balcom fi- Lloyd. I pi Jj | . 1 1 P S I | I WE have th© best stocked t general store in the county jj p and if yon are looking for re- li g liable goods at reasonable L If prices, we are ready to serve | yon with the best to be fonnd. |j p Our reputation for trust- j|j worthy goods and fair dealing •j| fl is too well known to sell any ili j| but high grade goods. j| 1 I pj Our stock of Queenswaro and ft Chinaware is selected with ffl great care and we have some jl of the most handsome dishes Jj w ever shown in this section, jj, ,lj both in imported and domestic Jn makes. We invite you to visit P us and look our goods over. pj aii m I I i 1 I 1 I Balcom $ Lloyd. | jr. It 1 —*" --- ! l-L- - - t I 1 % *at *tk m. sak ask jj* x*. jot *at *at not ** *\ ** ja *%. 11% m. a£ g LOOK ELSEWHERE BUT DON'T FORGET THESE PRICES AND FACTS AT M ■— —— M 1 | LaBAR'S I! I M " ~ ■ - ll N We carry in stock | - J "1 fcjJ the largest line of Car- * . 112 . is %^sSI 11 f ver bro "" ht f! iU Imnmmgl IJ town. Also a big line ** ** of samples. M A very large line ol •FOR THE N £2 Lace Curtains that can- . l« x^for";hf P dcc any - COMFORTABLE LODGING »< gjj Art Squares and of fine books in a choice library rj Rugs of all size? and select the Ideal pattern of Globe *3 kind, from the cheap- Wernicke "Elastic" Bookcase. ft? est to the best. Furnished with bevel French plate or leaded glass doors. j<| £§ Dining Chairs, rsa e*« o» j£jj Rockers and GEO. J. LaBAR, fcil High Chairs. " So'e Agent for Cameron County. fcjj J J A large and elegant L line of Tufted and Drop-head Couches. Beauties i iul .it bargain prices. itj M"" {3O Bedroom Suit 112, COC {'-10 Sidebci id, <.uar- C*fi £ * solid oak at....... S2O ttntl.ak... M 'jj S2B Bedroom Suits, CHI f:i2 Sicltbcn'd, qutr- COIT P1 |fi solid oak at 4)4.1 tend tali 4)xd p 3 $25 Bed room Suits, C'lH $22 F1<1« boat d, qnar- (Tff 1 solid oak at 4)<£<J tered oak, 4)tU JfjjJ £3 A lnvpo lino of Dressers from Chifi'onirrs of all kii.ds anil 0 £4 $ ■ »p. *»l prices. it • ————- ' —— &?s kg The finest line of Sewing Machines on the market, ftjj ij the "DOMESTIC" fid "J i 1 R!I ( !•:.' All dup- |* 12 heads and warranted. {[* A fine line of Dishes, comnn n grade and China, in J* sets and by the piece. Mi 6* As I keep a full line of everything that goes to &fl make up a good Furniture it is usekss to inum- J|(j crate them all. Please call and >-ee fir yourself that lam telling it A kg you tlie truth, and if you don't buv, there no harm «i done, as it is no tumble to sluav • otul-. ? ej GEO. JIaBAR. » J 'i * '-4 'Z i' T r' x-- JJJ, iiTu xi ixi ■ . .m it * A i - v* k* *..» <w ' »•«'<» ( ji v /». e' \ym * / v•*-\ •v* s* • v* j * kaA a* e.\ «. < . 4 , h.A t*ii. •?% *m a m 4\■ ■ <•» t% M
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers