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IN A D VA JVi
Vol. VI.
IS PUBLISHED EVERT TUESDAY HORNINQ, BT ,
FRANS MOETIMEE & CO.,
At New Lloomflcld, Terry Co., Pa.
Selng provided with Rteam rower, and large
Cylinder and Job-Presses, wo are prepared
to do all kinds of Job-Frlttting i
good style and at Low Trices. ,
THE PRETTY FOUNDLING.
A Story of the Reign of Louis XVI.
BT P. DKLACT.
tvNEcup more, comrades and then
o
another bottle of your Front ignac, and send
the pretty bar-maid with it ; do you hoar?"
Such were tho exclamations of a sergeant
of the queen's dragoons, as he sat with some
of his companions at a littlo tablo within a
' vine-tclliscd arbor at a door of the "Bunch
of Grapes," a small inn of the village of St.
Luce. Half a dozen of them they woro
hard-riding, fighting men, powdered and
mustached, plunged in heavy jack-boots
and flanked by enormous sabres. Their
bones were picketted at a little distance.
Near them, at another table, were three
or four men in the garb of peasants. Of
.this group, two young men eyed the sol
diers curiously and admiringly; a third sat
listlessly with his head resting on his hands
and his elbows resting on the table; while
the fourth man a man passed the middle
Age seemed chiding his companion for his
despondency.
Sergeant Bras de Fer seconded his call
for refreshments by hammering vigorous
ly on the table with his fist, and in a fow
moments a very pretty girl of some sixteen
years, with a keen black eye, a rod lip, a
small ankle, and a neat dressadmirably ad
justed to her symmetrical figure, made her
appearance with a bottle on a small tray,
and set it before the sergeant, dropping a
Blight courtesy sa she didjso.
The sergeant looked at the girl before ho
applied himself to the bottle, an unusual
thing for Bergeant Ciosar Bras de Fer,
whose worship of Bacchus generally pro
ceeded his devotions to Venus.
" By the soul of my father J" said he,
this girl is handsome enough for a colonel's
ilady. What's your name, my dear?"
" Marie," replied the young girl bridling
up.
"Old Boniface's daughter, eh?"
The girl looked down and shook her
head.
" My dear ! you ought to be a duchess.
.But high born'or low born, Mane, you
must give an old soldier one kiss to sweeten
the cup he is about to drain to your bright
eyes."
With these words the sergeant rose and
offered to salute tho rustio beauty, but the
latter, with the color mounting to her face,
dealt the soldier so vigorous a slap that she
left a full impression of her little hand upon
Lis weather-beaten cheek. Then turning,
.she regained the house at a bound.
" SaereUeuV cilod the sergeant, as he
sat down again, sulkily. " What a tigress!
That clip made me see more stars than ever
" the astronomer royal discovered through
his telescope. It served me right though,
so here's her health all the same as if she
had been more kind to me."
The young man at the other table, whose
mournful apathy we have noted, had
not remained an indifferent spectator of
this scene. When Marie made her ap
pearance, his eyes kindled, and his glance
was riovted upon her beautiful but some
what angry countenance. When she repuls--de
and punished the soldier's familiarity,
smile parted his lips; and when she vanish
ed into the Inn, he rose, immediately fol
lowed and rejoined her.
" Dear Marie," said he, "you cannot
refuse me one word."
" What would you have, Caspar ?" re
plied the girl, rather impatiently.
. " I love you love you distractedly. The
. last time I spoke of my passion, you fled
from me "
" Hush, hush !'.' laid Marie. " It is use
less for you to persecute me thus. I told
you that your feelings were nob reoiprooat
' cd. If you do not forbear this language,
we must cease to be friends."
. "O, Marie, do not deprive me of all
hope 1 Let me hope that my patient, re
spectful attentions will finally produoe a
: favorable result." .
"Nover, Oaspar Morlaln. My heart Is
untouched by love. If I could feel other-
wise, you would be the object of my affoct-
AN INDEPENDENT FAMILY
New JCtloomlield, JPn,., Tuesday
ions. When I love, it must be above and
not beneath myself."
" I know that I am only a peasant," an.
swered Caspar, bitterly; "but what, are
you? an orphan whose parentage is un
known, the adopted child of an innkeeper."
"My parentage may not always be un
known," replied Marie. "Perhaps my
parents are yet living perhaps they may
acknowledge and claim me yes 1 I may
live to shine in another sphere, to take my
rank among the titled and the great. Some
thing in my heart tells me I was not des
tined always to move in this low sphere."
" You have boauty, grace, and accom
plishments enough for any rank, Mario,"
replied the peasant, sadly; "and it may be
that your heart your instincts, have not
deceived you. And yet the time may como
when you will think of poor Caspar, who
was your friend your lover, whom you
will never see again."
" Never see you again, Gaspar?" exclaim
ed Marie, in a gentlo tone, " why what do
you mean by that? You are not surely
going to leave St. Luce ?"
" This is no place for mo," replied the
young man, sorrowfully. " I have indulg
ed in dreams here that never can be real
ized. It is better I should change the
scone."
" You will think better of this idle pur
pose," answered Marie.
Gaspar shook his head sadly, timidly
raised the hand the beautiful young girl
abandoned, to his lips, and without trust
ing himsolf with a word more, left the
little inn.
The party of dragoons had risen from
the tablo, and were tightening their saddle-girths,
" preparatory to mounting.
Caspar went directly to the sergeant.
"Sergeant," said he, I want to speak
a word to you."
" Be brief, then, my good fellow," re
plied the soldier, "for in half on hour I
must report to Capt. Fontaine, who is now
paying his respects to the Baroness de
Montfort, at her chateau hard by, where
our company has halted."
"Is your troop full, sergeant?"
"Have you an idea of serving?" -
"I have."
" You are a well-built fellow," said the
sergeant,running his keen eye up and down
the person of the countryman. " Can you
ride?"
"There isn't a horse within twenty miles
that can unseat mo."
" Good 1 We want such men. It is a
great favor to serve in the queen's dra
goons; but I like you, and a word .from me
to the captain will do the business. I sup
pose all you care about, is riding a fine
horse, and playing the beau jin country
quarters. "
"Not so, sergeant; I thirst for active
service. The more dangerous the better."
" Good again I you're a lad after my own
heart. Hark ye 1" continued the sergeant,
speaking in a lower tone, " we are like
enough to have sharp work on hand ere
long. The rascally lower classes are get
ting mutinous, just because they have to pay
taxes and live without bread the beasts t
Our good Louis XVI is for temporizing
with the rascals, but the queen, whose
name we bear God bless her 1 the idol of
of the army, is for sharper measures, and
the queon will carry the day, be sure of it.
She is concentrating her troops at Versail
les; and when the word is given to bleed
these rascally Parisians, we shall have tho
post of honor; our sabres will not rust in
our scabbards, be sure of it."
"Then, sergeant, Iain yours."
" Your hand on it, my boy," replied Bras
do Fer. " As luck would have it, here's
a mount for you a wild devil of a Limou
sin, which we have orders to break infor
the colonel's use but not a dragoon of
us has beeu able to keep his back. If you
can ride him to the Chateau de Montfort,
the captain will occopt you sure."
" I ask nothing better." ,,
While they wore saddling and bridling
the wild Limousin, Caspar exchanged a
few words with the friend whom we have
briefly noticed as being his companion at
the tablo.
" So you have enlisted in the company of
cut-throats," said the lattor, sarcastically.
" In the hope of having my own throat
cut," said Gaspar. ; .
" Aud all because a conceited girl didn't
fancy you. Well, you are wise, Gaspar.
Disappointed love has made you a tool of
the aristooracy; anil when we meet again,
I may be in the ranks of tho people with a
pike In my hands, aud the first stroke of
your saftre may bo at ,the head of your old
companion." ,
"You know me bettor than that, Guil
laume," replied the young peasant, re
proachfully. " We, at least, can never be
enemies. And I conjure you by our old
friendship, if anything happens to her to
Mario, you will let me know It at Versail
les, where I understand, our regiraont is
to be quartered. Promise me this."
"I promise it," said Guillaumo, sulkily,
"though the best thing you can do is to
forget her entirely." 1
" Forgot her I" cried the young man, with
a sigh, "ah 1 you little know the impossi
bility which you counsel."
Guillaume shrugged his shoulders with a
sarcastic smile.
"Como, my boy," said the sergeant,
"your horse is ready."
Gaspar vaulted into the saddle. A fu
rious contest ensued between the horse and
rider, but the fiery charger found he had
met his match at last. Aftor a protracted
struggle, Gaspar conquered his fierce spirit,
and before the file reachod Chateau de
Montfort, tho animal knew his rider and
obeyed him. The triumph won him the
respect of his new companions, and saved
him from the joors and indignities usually
visited upon the raw recruit. Gaspar had
fairly won his way into the queen's dra
goons. An affair so trifling as the loss of a linch
pin often produces important results. If
mail axles and boxes had been invented
at the period of which we write, the off
hind-wheel off the Baroness de Montfort's
carriage would not have beeu off in two
senses, and that distinguished lady would
not bave been compelled to seek refuge in
the "Bunch of Grapes;" while the accident
was being repaired. . She would not have
been deeply interested in the elegant man
ners and beauty of Marie, and would not
have had an interview with our friend
Guillaumo, who was supposed to know
more about the pretty maid of the inn than
any of the habitual frequenters of the es
tablishment, Bonneville, the innkeeper,
refusing to communicate any intelligence
respecting his adopted daughter.
Tho old Baroness do Montfort was one of
the proudest aristocrats in France. ' Her
family could be traced beyond the flood,
and a very old picture, preserved In her
collection, presented Noah going into the
ark, carrying a bundle under his arm, la
belled, " papers of importance belonging to
the De Montfort family." She regarded
commoners as being of a different and in
ferior speoles, and regarded it as a conde
scension even to look at a peasant ' But
she was as curious as she was proud, and
now stooped so low as to tpeak to our friend
Guillaume.
" The girl, Marie," said the duchess, " is
you say, not the daughter of M. Bonne
ville." . ..
"No, modamo; only the adopted daugh
ter." " How long has she been here?"
"From her earliest infancy, modame."
"Have you any reason to suppose that
her parents were above the lower' order in
rank, my good man ?"
" Yes, madame."
' " State your reasons."
" Sixteen years ago, madame Marie is
now sixteen observe the coincidence a
lady, a groat lady, madame, no other than
the Countess de Rosefont, came here from
Paris very privately, and took lodgings at
this inn."
"The Countess do Rosefont! I knew
her well. About that time, she left Paris,
and it was said, France, for reasons that
were never divulged. Some said, they
were political, but others, who knew best,
that she had married benoath her, rank
some low fellow of a pbysiolan,or merchant
or something of that sort, aud was com
pelled to go to the West Indies to conoeal
hor disgrace." ,
"Well, madame, when she left, I was
secretly a witness to an interview she had
with the landlady In parting, she said to
her, : " I leave in your hands a sacred do
posit, guard it till I come to reclaim it.
The money I deposit with you will amply
repay your trouble." ,
" Go on, my good man," cried tho baro
ness, eagorly. ,.
"A few days afterwards, madame, little
Marie made her appearance in the arms of
the landlady." ,
"I seo it all," cried the baroness.
"Maria is the daughter of my old friend,
the Countess de Rosefont, heiress of an
Immense fortune. The husband of the
countess is dead, and she la now on the eve
of returning to France. She must not flud
ber-daughtor in this low inn, in the capac
ity of a servant Do you think Bonneville
knows anything of this affair ?"
" I think not, madame. Mrs. Bonneville,
now in heaven I trust, ruled him with a
NEWSPAPER.
September 3, 1873.
rod of iron, and managed everything in her
own way in hor own house. I am quite
Bure she passed off Marie on him as a
foundling."
" That will do, my good man. You can
go now, and pray be discreet, and don't
say a word of this to any living soul, untl
the hour arrives when I decido to make it
public. And here are a couple of louis for
your trouble."
The baroness now sought an interview
with Bonneville, and told him she was very
much interested in his daughter, and of
fered to take her to Paris with her, and
give her a situation in her own household.
Bonneville, who was very much attached
to Marie, at first refused to listen to the
projoct, and when he imparted it to the
young girl herself, he found to his poignant
disappointment, that she was as eager to
quit his roof, under such brilliant auspices,
as he was to retain her. Therefore, with a
sorrowful heart, he was compelled to assent
to the proposal of the baroness, and Mario
was directed to convey tho intelligence to
that lady.
When she entered the baronoss' room
the latter rose and took both her hands.
" My dear girl," she said, "lam so de
lighted that you are willing to come and
live with a poor old woman."
"AVilling, madame?" replied Marie,
blushing, ' I am overpowered at the honor.'
"Iam deeply your dobtor, my dear,"
said the old baroness. " And don't think
I design to make a servant of you. Not at
all, my dear; you shal! be my companion
You shall change this sordid dress for the
garb of a lady. You shall queen it in satin
and brocades. That is beautiful hair of
yours,but, without powdor,perfectly odious.
You have too high a color; but late hours
and dissipation will Boon give you a more
genteel complexion that patches will ren
der porfoctly dazzling. And who knows
I may get you presented at court?"
Powder, patches, brocade, the court !
Marie was ready to fall down and worship
the benevolent old fairy who promised her
those splendors. Without a sigh, she bade
adieu to the humble old roof that had shel
tered hor infancy and girlhood, the good
old man who bad been a father to her, and
Guillaumo, who had always given hor the
Vry best, though not always tho most pal
atable advice, aud entered the gilded car
riage that was to carry her to Paris dear
Paris the capital of fairy land.
The Baronasg de Monfort was as good as
her word. All the adornments aud accom
plishments that money oould command
wore lavished on her young protege. She
dressed, powdered and patched like a
duchess. ' A willing and ready pupil, she
soon learned to dancewith a grace that
would have made a sensation in a royal
ball-room. Then it was that the baroness
presented her to a select circle of ber male
and female frionds, to whom she imparted
in confidence the secret of Marie's birth.
The Dowager Duchess do Longuevillo
thought hor perfectly enchanting; the old
Countess de Vautrion admired her, the
baroness' nephew, made up his mind to
sacrifice himself, and to marry the young
heiross.
Moan while, Guillaume had, according to
his promise, ocquaiuted his young friend,
Gaspar, with the change in Marie's fortune,
and enlarging on her pride and ingratitude,
urged him more strongly than ever to for
get her. But tho young dragoon was too
deeply in love for that. Whenever he
could obtain leave of absence bo posted to
Paris, and hovered about the hotel of the
baroness, in the hope of getting a glimpse of
his early and only love. But he was disap
pointed. Once he saw her at a carriage
window, and dared to bow to her he, a
common dragoon, and sho a lady of the
land. , She did not even know him, either
because his uniform had disguised him, or
change of circumstances had changed her
heart. So he went back to the barracks
moie sorrowful than ever.
And now,ono evening the elegant hotel of
the Baroness de Montfort was iu the wild
est confusion. The long-expected Countess
de Rosefont had actually arrived, and the
Dowager Duchess do Longuevillo, who
thought Mario perfuotly enchanting, and
the Countess 'de Vau tried, who admired
her, and Captain Fontaine, of the queen's
dragoons, who had secretly resolved to
marry her, wero assembled in the talon, to
meet the distinguished exile aftor hor long
absence. Marie was kept back for the
proper moment , .
After the warmest congratulations and
compliments, the baroness approached the
subject nearest her heart. .
"My dear countess," she said with a
mysterious smile, "you are among friends
here, and can speak with the utmost con
C 75 Cents for 6 Months
40 Cta. for 3 months.
IV o. 3G.
fidence. We all know of your visit to St.
Luce, and your sojourn at the little inn,
just before you sailed for the West In
dies." "Well, madame," cried the Countess de
Rosefont.
" We all know," continued the baroness,
" about the ' precious deposit ' you left
with the landlady. It is here in my posses
sion." " In your possession ?" cried the count
ess. " Yes," cried the baroness; "behold 1"
This was the preconcerted signal for the
appearance of Marie. A door was thrown
open, and she rushed Into the countess'
arms, crying: "Mother dear mother !"
As soon as possible, the countess extri
cated herself from the embrace.
"What pleasantry is this?" she exclaim
ed. "Pleasantry?" retorted the baroness,
warmly. " Do you deny your own daugh
ter?" "My daughter?" cried tho countess, in
infinite disdain. " I never had a daughter!
The deposit I left with the innkeeper's wifo
at St. Luce, was a collection of political
papers which would have compromised me
with the government. If you have those,
I shall be obliged to you for restoring
them; as for this young lady, I know noth
ing at all about her !"
" Then she's only a commoner after all !"
said the Duchoss de Longuevilo, J in infinite
disgust, "I always thought she had the
air of one."
"And to pass herself off as one of us!
what shocking impudence I" exclaimed the
Countess do Vautpiou.
' " And to endoavor to entangle me into
an alliance !" cried ' Captain Fontaine.
" What infamy !"
' "And to impose on my good-natured
credulity !" shrieked the baroness, as soon
as she could find a voice. " It was all a
plan of imposture concocted by your low
set at tho tavern !" she added, addressing
Mario. " But this roof shall not shelter
you another night !"
Pride was the grand dofoet of Marie's
character; but now, when the flrstagony of
of disappointment was over, it did her good
service. Drying hastily hor scalding tears,
she returned the glance of the baroness
with one as haughty and imperious as her
own.
"Fear not, madame; nothing could tempt
me to stay another night undor your roof.
I now see that low and sordid passions are
not the heritage of the poor; and that no
bler hearts beat beneath the coarse gar
ments of the lowly, than the silks and
satins of the higher born. Farewell, mad
ame. I will not stoop to question the mo
tives of your kindness; I thank you for it
your insinuations and charges I repel with
scorn !"
With the air of a duchess, the maid, of
the inn swept from the apartment. The
lackeys in waiting were astonished to Bee
her pass into the street in full dress; but no
servant dared, in those days, to question
the caprices of the great It was not till
she was alone in the darkness of the street
alone In that huge, heartless city, that
her courage deserted her, and that she ex
claimed aloud in the bitterness of her heart:
"Ah! who in this wldo world will pro
tect me?"
"One who never will desert you!" re
plied a voice.
It was that of the faithful Gaspar, who,
while his comrades slept, kept up his hope
less watch over tho dwelling-place of
Marie. This night his devotion was des
tined to be rewarded.
Taking Marie to a place of safety for the
night, he obtained leave of absenco, and
the next day conducted her to her formor
home, where she was warmly welcomed by
the old landlord, and where she soon learn
ed to look back on the frivolities of oity life
with the contempt which they merited.
And now she for the first time learned the
history of her parentage. It seems that
Mrs. Bonneville had a young sister who
hod when quite young been betrayed, and
who had died in giving birth to Marie.
This child who had thus been thrown upon
the care of her aunt had been as carefully'
brought up as though her own child, and
the secret of her mother's disgrace had been
concealed lrom the daughter, and was now
told her only to prove to her how vain and
foolish it was to search for happiness out of
the sphere in life to which she properly be
longed. ' ,
Awakened thus rudely from her ambi
tious dreams, to find herself a foundlinir.
on the ocean of lifo, hor full had been brok
en by the tender sympathy and love of
Gaspar, who had proved so true wider
every trial, and the gratitude she owed him,
shortly ripened into lovo. He therefore
soon managed to leave the service and re
turned to the village when the young couple
were married and the landlord relinquished
to them the care of the inn.