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