Indianapolis Journal, Indianapolis, Marion County, 3 March 1889 — Page 6

THE INDIANAPOLIS JOURNAL, SUNDAY, MARCH 3, 1889-TWELVE PAGES.

THE LILYOF ROCHON A. Legend of Bay St. Louis.

BY MAURICE CHAPTER I. A FLACTJ FOR AN ARTIST'S riCTURE. Early in the present century, on a bright morning soon after the beginning of March, a small schooner sailed up the Bay of St. Louis and car.t anchor oft" what was then locally known as Magnolia Point. Thcr had been a thin, gray fog on the air, but the Bun had flung this aside, leaving tho water and the sky bluo and dreamily brilliant to the far horizon of the gulf. On the west shore of the bay, not far from "where the little vessel lay, stood a mansion recently built by Gaspard Kochon, and now occupied by him and his niece, with a numerous household of serv ants. One or two other plantation houses, but less pretentious in every way, were visible here and there, even as far as to the mouth of the Jordan river. The scene was one to pleas the eye of poet or artist, ami there was an artist on board the schooner, a young man of leisure, whose love of the picturesque and the strange, coupled with that passion for adventure which was more prevalent then than now, had led him to explore this obscure nook of the South where, since tho days of Uienville, had lingered a trace of that wild life which made the gulf coast for so long a time a region of romance and mystery. Looking from the water to tho land, tho shores, which were mostly high, white blurts, were fringed with a broken and billowy line of woods made up of all tho semi-tropical trees, notably pines, live aks, cedars and magnolias. A sombre duskiness, as of slumber and deep rest, pervaded the vistas running back under niossliung boughs into the flowery and fragrant wilderness. Down to the verge of the white and steeply sloping bluff-lines the undergrowth, set "in scattering clusters and wisps, came in green-leaved and flowering luxury, and on the air was a fresh and grateful fragrance. It was a place of birds. Overhead flew clamorous water-fowl, along the sandy beaches and in tho rippling shallows the ploversandsandpipes were-fwding, and the tall herons here and there stood stately and motionless in the marsh grass that fringed the outreachiug points of low salt meadow. Tho schooner had come round from the JJigoIets through Lake IJorgue, past the chandelears. having set out from a landing on the Ponchartrain near New Orleans. All the way the sailors had been charming to tho artist to whom all this wild region was as new as it was sunny, luxuriant and stimulating to his imagination. He baa remained on deck all night, waking and sleeping by turns, the sound of the slumberous waves in his ears and the shifting ecenes of shore and sea delighting his halfclosed eyes or passing into his dreams. In those days a trace of the buccaneer was scarcely erased from tho southern seas, the deeds of Latitte wero still fresh in the memory of living men, while the craft of the sly smuggler was no uncommon apparition, cruising about through the intricate channels and passes of the gulf coast. There were no railroads connecting the region with the great commercial centers of America, wherefore no place on earth was more isolated or more a law unto itself than was the Hay St. Louis country. Most of the white people were Creoles of French or Spanish descent, but there were a few Anglo-Americans of that restless, adventurous class whose mark had been left in every quarter of the globe, and here and there was a planter from Georgia or the Carolinas who had come with his family and his 6laves to And the luxury of loneliness in the woods. Naturally a place so out of the world and in which life was so free and so easy to live attracted a number of outcasts of one kind and another, who sought here a hiding placo from punishment or a refuge from persecution, fjociety had no clearly defined basig, of course, but regulated it self in a degree with gun, sword and pistol, whenever regulating seemed necessary; still there was a good measure of peace, and certainly necessities and even the ph3'sical comforts of life were within easy reach on every hand. The forests abounded in game, the waters swarmed with fish and oysters, tropical fruits grew to perfection and tho soil, thou eh lijrht and poor, produced bountifully under the stimulus of the warm, gener erous climate. - Wendell Orton, the artist and dreamer, reached this secluded nook just at the opening of the fairest season of the year, and as lie looked forth from the deck of his little schooner over the shining water to the rich, dark masses of woods, to tho flowering thickets, to the mansion in its embowering grove and to the scattered cabins of the slaves, the sense of a new existence and a new world took possession of him. ' He was a tall, strong young man m whose naturally fair face was bronzed with exposure and whose yellow hair hung in curls on his shoulders, as was tho fashion with artists of the time. He was a ligure to remember as he stood among the Creole sailors, almost a head taller than the tallest of them, a man to rix himself in one's mind, if for nothing more than tho expression of superb, overflowing vitality in his finely cut face and muscular frame. " "Which is the place you spoke of, Victor!" he inquired, turning to a small, dark fellow. "You don't mean tho brick house yonder, do you!" "Mo' Dieu, no," said the Creole, with a shrug and a grimace; "you cannot see from here; it is back in the woods, on tho bayou (ialere.just a little wa" "And the brick house, whose mansion is it!" continued Orton. pointing. "That! Oh, that's the Kochon place, M'sieu, where the beautiful M'm'zelle lives. When you see her" (he winked and made a wry face) "you will get 3'our eyes put ont.'r "Is she the wonderful lily you spoke of, the girl for whom so many men have been willing to risk their lives in deadly combat!"' questioned the artist, as if some interesting thought had returned to him suddenly. "Is that houso your chateau do Kochon!" The Creole drew up his shoulders and spread out his hands half comically; his pipo was gripped between his yellow teeth and he spoke with his lips only as he said: "Certainly, M'sieu; certainly that is where the Lily lives the Lily of Kochon and I tell you she is as beautiful as tho Virgin as beautiful as " T11 judge of that myself, Victor, if I get the opportunity," Orton interrupted, "but tell me, what flag is that fluttering among the trees?" "That's tho lily banner, the old man's whim. He keeps it there, old Gaspard ijochon does. I suppose he likes it. That's lis boat lying in along shore there." From the yellow flag that played like a flame against the dark back-ground of magnolia foliage, Orton's eyes fell to tho trim little sloop-rieged craft that rocked at her anchoring place near a small wharf. The boat was white with a yellow sternboard, upon which was a blue lily. Tho Joung man saw at once that it was a fast ittle vessel, built by a cunning hand. "That boat, she can fly like a bird," Victor remarked, in his soft patois, "and the beautiful Ma'm'zelle, how she does love to sail when th breeze is still! Mo's'.eu Kochon he likes it. too, when the wind blows big guns and the sea is on heavy. Pien! but he's a bad one, that Mo'sieu Gasrard Kochon!" "Chiefly in what is ho bad!" inquired Orton, rather absently. Ins mind busied with the picture of the girl in the boat as suggested by Victor' words. "Oh. they iy, I don't know if it's true, though, that he made his money by the devil's own means, by all manner of villainies; but then one is not fool enough to tell old Gaspard that, if one values one's life." Victor winked and smiled dryly as be said this; then, after a momeut's pause, he continued. "You going to get acquainted with him, Mo'sieu Orton! You think he'd be very eood acquaintance, eh!" "Probably; why not!" "Certainly, wny not! I say that, too;" but there was an undcrmeaning to Victor's flexibility. The shrug of his shoulders and the expression of his eyes were full of reservations and conditions. "You area gentleman and he's a gentleman," he went on, "and I suppose you'll like each other, certainly. That's all right, you know, Mo'sieu, certainly; but tho Ma'm'zelle, you'd better be careful about " The young man turned suddenly upon the Creole at this point and almost scowled at him. Something in the fellow's voice, toXt and musical iu iL was, grated iiarhJ,Y

THOMPSON.

on Orton's ear, probably because it broke in upon the beautiful vision ho had been imagining. It was his habit to turn all his thoughts into pictures, ami ho had been sketching in his mind a most enchanting bit of life and color. "Yes. Mo'sieu," insisted Victor, "yon'll have to let the beautiful Ma'm'zelle quite alone, I tell you, for the old man won't bear anybody looking soft looks at her." "Nonsense," exclaimed Orton, "vou aro talking perfect nonsense," then feeling the impropriety of tho discussion, he changed the subject of tho conversation by ordering his breakfast to be fetched up that he mieht eat it in the open air. lie had chartered the little schooner Zozo with her crew, and since setting sail for Hay St. Louis had heard a great deal of tho history, or at least the so-called history, of Gaspard Kochon the rich and eccentric owner of Chateau de Kochon, as the sailors had named the mansion. There was enough of mystery in the story to stimulate curiosity, and at the same ttmo the Creole narrators had not failed to dash into it a great deal of glow and color, which addeu a peculiar charm for a temperament like Orton's. Now, as he ate his tish and biscuit, and sipped the excellent black coffee prepared for him, his imagination made tho most of the picturesque mansion, the breezy grove and the legend-like stories ho had been hearing. Already he was planning the details of a picture he would make, of which the central figures were to be Gaspard Kochon, the rough and blood-thirsty, retired pirate (or fugitive from tho vengeance of outraged society on account ot other criminal pursuits) and his lovely niece, tho lily so extravagantly praised by the Creole sailors. He was in love with his art, and therefore was not nursing any youthful fancy, or hope, of any tender adventure with the maiden, or of any chivalrous bout with her doughty uncle, who guarded her with such tierce jealousy and prowess. Sketches, sketches, something new and striking for his pencil; something upon which he could wreak his love of color; nothing else interested him deeply. Victor, a typical creolo coaster, knew everybody from the Kigolets to liiloxi, and with the love of romance common to his race had absorbed, so to speak, all the legends, stories, anecdotes and folk-lore generally current in the region. He knew well how to embellish these, and there was nothing dearer to him than to have a pi pe of Cuban tobacco, a bottle of claret and a good listener, while he plied his gift of story-telling. In Orton he had found a charming subject for his experiments in romance, and he had tilled the young man's imagination with all manner of wild and picturesque glimpses of a new and very strange life. "I should like to make sail when the tide is on the turn," Victor said, as the artist ended his simple repast, "and if Mo'sieu wants to go ashore I'll take a boat and row him to the house on the bayou. There's no great time, ajid it's a good pull around the point and up." "All right, Victor, fetch up my traps," responded Orton, rising, "the quicker the better with me, for I'm as anxious to get rid of you as you aro to be free from me. Hurry up." Victor lauehed in hi9 soft way as ho crept down into the little cabin to obey orders. Orton buttoned his rough jacket close and drew his broad-brimmed hat low over his eyes in anticipation of a row against the wind, which was beginning to freshen from the northwest. Indeed, it was a finely invigorating experience, that breasting of the sweet, sharp breath from the resinous woods and wide salt-marshes of the Wolf river and Jordan-river countries. The skiff into which Orton and Victor had bestowed themselves with the young man's baggage and sketching outtit was a slight a flair, and the Creole's lusty oar strokes set it fairly bounding over tho sparkling water. The course led them through a long curve around Magnolia Point, giving broken glimpses of the Kochon House with its dull, drab walls and peaked roof withdrawn in a soft crepuscular gloom which was shot through here and there by line lines of glowing sunlight. Any person looking from the shore must have felt the effect of the animated bit of life and color afforded by the skiff and its crew. Victor's. red shirt and Orton's bluo jacket shone gaily, and the artist's yellow curls contrasted effectively with tho black unkempt locks of the Creole. Then what a back-ground; all the wide bay rolling free before the breeze and the dark troubled masses of the woods on tho other shore, had caught the full mid-morning glow and shimmer. Southward along tho horizon line some tall ships under full sail wero bowling on their way, and flights of pelicans, ducks and geese made the high air palpitant with their wings. Some one on shore did see the skiff and did watch it with curious eyes. Gaspard Kochon stood at the extreme point ot the little headland near his house, and with his sturdy legs wide apart, his heavy hand shading his strong, dark face and his cap set well back on his grizzled head, gazed attentively. "Voila! yonder! see!" exclaimed Victor, eagerly; "Mo'sieu Kochon standing on the high place. You see himT" Yes Orton saw, with a thrill in acknowledgement of the figure's bold outlines and picturesque attitude. Ho took up a small field-glass and, adjusting it, surveyed with increasing interest that burlj' and hirsute lord of the land whose dreadful deeds and dark ways Victor had been so fond of doscribing. "You look at him mighty well now," said the creole in his glib patois, "for he's worth looking at, is Mo'sieu Kochon. I tell you that you might as well keep shy of him and the 5la'm'zellc, certainly, if you don't like trouble. Pad as a shark, he is, and the Ma'm'zelle she " Just then Orton showed signs of having discovered something new. Tho Creole rested a moment on his oars and gazed. A second figure had come forth from the magnolia grove and was approaching the spot where stood Kochon. It was a tall girl, probably eighteen, simply clad in a gown of gray stuff with a flutter of dark red ribbons here and there. She was supple and graceful, evidently, and Orton saw through his glass that her face, shaded by a wide palmetto hat, was charmingly sweet in its expression. There was little time for this exchange of inspection, as the tide was nearly to the turn, and Victor, resuming the oars, pulled vigorously, soon sending the skill' past tho point and on to the mouth of the bayou. "What did I sayt" he exclaimed as ho rowed, "I told you how that man looked like a great savage bear, and how tho Ma'm'zelle she looked like a lib. Did you see! Mo' Dieu, but what a scowl on his ugly old face: and she, did you see how pretty she is!" To this and much more Orton made no response. The spell of the placo was upon him. This was his first experience in the South; his home was in the far North where life had nothing in it to prepare one for what one met in this strange out-of-the-way nook of tho sub-tropic, and besides Orton had been made peculiarly impressible by the unusual and vividly romantic stories of Victor. Now, as the house, and the grove, and the .two figures on Magnolia Point passed from his vision into his memory, a sense of immense distance from the real world took possession of him. It w as though he had fouud a little region, detached from earth, set in a space of its own, and tilled with the atmosphere and the colors of dreams, a very paradise for tho artist who longs for what is not commonplace. He felt that very soon some adventures and experiences must make a memorable impress upon him, and probably affect the whole current of his life. He was ready for this, even eager, lor ho was at that age and of the temperament which demands a fair 6haro of the melodramatic and strongly colored He would not have objected to a little of tho tragic and the terrible as a condiment, for there was a lighting strain his blood just strong enough to make him venturesome and courageous to a degree. A mile or two up tho bay on they came to a rude wharf of timber near which a fishing smack was moored to a stake driven into the marsh mud. Pack a few paces on the other shore in the midst of scuppernong vines and orange trees, now beginning to bloom, stood a low. rambling house of many rooms built rartly of logs and partly of rough boards and surrounded by a gallery or rude colonnade, over which clambered a Cherokee rose vine thickly covered with its snowy flowers. Pehind the structure stood a huge live-oak tree whose arms, fifty feet long, spread out & heavy mass of mos-fes-

tooned sprays completely overshadowing the irregular roof. Here Orton was to have his home for a time, having set out from New Orleans with this purpose in view. Victor, whose little schooner ne had chartered, described the place to him in glowing colors as an ideal center from which radiated all the Saths that an artist and a sportsman could esire to follow. A thin, swarthy man, with a high eagle nose and deep-set black eyes, met them on the wharf, victor made him known to Orton as M'sieu Edouard Garcin, tho proprietor of the place, whereupon he gave the artist most profuse welcomo and led tho way into the house, while two or three negroes busied themselves with Orton's baggage and sketching materials, bringing them to the gallery and depositing them in a heap on the rloor, where lounged four or five deerhouuds. "Come een, come een, mek oose at 'ome," said the host, trying hard to sneak very good English. "Glad I see oo, Mistoo Orton, ver proud of oo kindness ven oo como at my 'ouse dees time." The room was ample, with low ceiling, a wide fire-place and 6mall windows. The furniture was, to Orton's surprise, of heavy carved mahogany, table, chairs, clock and bedstead, costly and beautiful. In one corner lay a curious old guitar. CHAPTER II. LA LIE GARCIN. Victor, who was in a great hurry to return, scarcely allowed himself time for a glass of wine with Garcin before setting out, but, so rapidly did he speak, he succeeded in giving a most glowing and apparently satisfactory account of Orton, whom he described as a great gentleman from New York who had become famous all over the world as an artist and whose skill with the rifle and the fowlirig-pieco was something prodigious. "He wants to shoot and fish and make pictures of everything in your country, Mo'sieu G arcing he glibly went on, with many winks, shrugs and gestures of hands and elbows, "certainly he does, and he has como all the way from his grand homo in the great city on purpose to stay in your humblo home awhile, Mo'sieu Garcin, and enjoy your company, certainly so. " Edouard Garciu bowed and smiled, first toward Orton then toward Victor, and his fine black eyes expressed satisfaction and hospitable intent more readily than did his tongue, since ho persisted in trying to speak Enelish. "It mek me joyous 'at eo come so soon to yeesit along wile dis time," he remarked, finding his words with great difficulty. When Orton to relieve him spoke in very good French there was an expression akin to disappointment on Garcin's face. Evidently he would have preferred to have tho coin ersation in English; whether he dosired to learn the tongue, or whether ho dreaded to have a French-speaking alien in his house would have been hard to guess. With that politeness which never deserts a man of his class, however, he accepted Orton's choice and spoke tho language of tho place. "This is your room. Monsieur, your house; it belongs to you as long as vou will stay," ho said, with that soft cordiality and perfect sincerity of voice and manner impossible to imitate or describe. "Whatever you want, call for it; everything is yours." Orton thanked him as best he could; but it was hard to get a word ready before tho adroit Garcin would pour out another and another flood of flattering welcome. Victor snatched a glass of wine, then, after a short, hurried consultation aside with the host, bade Orton au revoir, promising, according to contract, to bring the Zozo around again at the end of a month, so that if he should wish by that time to leave Pay St. Louis, he could do it. "Kcmember, Victor," said Orton, shaking his sailor's liitle dark hand, "not later than the 10th of April. I shall expect you to bo prompt. I couldn't think of enib: rking in any other craft than the schooner Zozo." The face of Victor lighted up under this compliment to his little vessel, which was, in fact, the fastest on the coast, and he almost embraced the artist while ho said: "Certainly. Exactly on that day I will come, if the wind is fair. Certainly, Mo'sieu. The Zozo she brought 3ou here; she will take you away, certainly." "And, by the way, 1 was about to forget my letter," exclaimed Orton, taking from his pocket a sealed paper package, upon which, besides the ado ress, he had drawn his monogram in a fanciful India-ink sketch.

"Here; don't fail to send this hy the hrst vessel. It is very, very important, Victor. Will you forge tit!" "Mo' Dieu, how can I forget it. mo'sieu?

I shall think of it all the time," and ho fairly snatched it from Orton's hand. It was addressed to Gen. Horace Orton, New York city. Victor could not refrain from sending an eager glance over the bold superscription, nor did his eyes fail to rest for a moment on the puzzling monogram before ho bestowed the package safely in his pocket. Then he gave Garcin a quick, knowing look, as if to say: "There, what did I tell you! This is proof of my words." Orton did not notice this scarcely perceptible expression of unusual interest, nor did it strike him as meaning anything when Garcin excused himself and followed Victor down to the wharf'on the bayou. "It is just as I said," remarked Victor in a whisper, as he and tho host went down the sandy path under tho vines. "Ho is como to get Mo'sieu Kochon. He is a secret officer, I am sure of it, and ho has no fear. Tho government. Mo'sieu Garcin, tho government has sent him." "Put, Mon Dieu, how do you know!" inquired Garcin eagerl. "I was knowing it all the time, but now," and here Victor tapped on his pocket to indicat the letter, "now it is certainly so." "Ti 9 letter!" whispered Garcin. "Yes, the letter," responded Victor. The men halted at the edge of the dock and looked at each other quizzically. "He writes to General Orton, at New York, do you understand, Mo'sieu Garcin! General Orton!" exclaimed Victor, lifting up his shoulders and spreading his hands out before him with great energy. Tho emphasis placed on tho word General was tragic in the extreme. Garcin was vivaciously silent and thoughtful for a few moments, then, with sudden earnestness, he inquired: "Put how do you know that that it is only old Kochon that he is after!" Victor smiled a queer little smile, and shook his head knowingly. "Don't you be afeard, Mo'sieu Garcin; certainly he has not como for you," he said, with a patronizing intonation in his whisper. "I told him about you, and he thinks you a great gentleman. Certainly he'll not suspect you, Mo'sieu Garcin, never. They went down the rough steps of tho wharf and Victor entered the skill. Uarcin leaned over the gunwale and said: "Put if he finds out if he finds out!" "Pah! don't be a calf, Mo'sieu Garcin; ho is a gentleman and he is in your house. Certainly you must treat him well and have him to like j-ou. Don't you see! You're safe enough. It's the old, man that he's after." Victor furtively slipped forth the letter so that Garcin could see the monogram and superscription. t Poth men sighed with the suppressed excitement of the occasion as their vivid imaginations illuminated, with a light that never was on sea or laud, tho purport of that mysterious package, so grand and ofheial looking and addressed to a general in New York. Garcin putted out his swarthy cheeks and Victor smiled his gentle Creole smile. He replaced the letter and made ready to row away down tho bavou. "Good bye. Mo'sieu Garcin," he said. "I hope you will have a pleasant time with Mo sieu Orton, good-bye." "Put you will return in just a month, eh!" Garcin called after him as the skill was gliding swiftly from the shore. "I must expect you then!" "Certainly, certainly," came back tho musical answer, purely Victor had a very sweet voice, almost as sweet as that of tho mockingbird singing yonder onthcliveoak. Garcin stood awhile gazing after the now fairly galloping skill', then, with his hands in his pockets, he turned about and went back into the house. The wind had como to be a trifle sharp and chilly, as it always does when it blows from the northwest. A negro started a lire on the hearth in Orton's room, a lire of round wood with splinters of fat pine betweeu, which flung forth a bright light, making the dark furniture gleam, and causing the curious old pictures on the walls to look still more still and dnskv. The art ist. examined his surroundings with great interest. It was dillicult to reconcile thecostly movables with the rude structure, in which they appeared so out of place, and with the extreme isolation of the regiou. Through a partly-opened door liu could beo that on adjoining room was

furnished even moro strikingly and expensively than his own. Soine heavily-brocaded curtains, a high-backed, richly-cushioned chair, and a three-legged sDinet were in tho line of his vision. He noted that the spinet's feet wero exquisitely carved to represent serpents' heads, mouth open and fangs extended, and that the keys were of ivory and ebony curiously inlaid. Over a corner of the instrument hung an India shawl of rich design, and upon this lay a jaunty hat of some fine straw, trimmed with scarlet velvet ribbons. These things, set in such a rough entourage, appealed with great force to the artist's taste for the uncommon and tho picturesque. That a rambling cabin of the coarsest patchwork architecture, tho rooms of which were scarcely better than those of a Western frontier dwelling, should bo filled with articles that a lord might prize was enough to start all sorts of suggestions in a mind naturally ready to be led toward romance. Through a little window he had a view of the bayou and tho broad grassy marsh meadow beyond. Looking that way he saw Victor rowing hard, leaving a long silver wake behind the skiff and tossing bright sprays with tho feathering of his oars. Soon man and skiti' were lost to sight, and in spite of himself Orton felt a little thrill of loneliness as he realized that for a month at least he must be shut up in this wild, queer little region, utterly out of the world and given over, it appeared to him, to the whims of a very strange people. When Garcin re-entered presently, lightfooted and smiling, Orton turned from the window to meet him. "It ees bee gin to blow vareo cole, Mistoo Orton," the host began saying, then, recollecting himself, continued in French: "Wo shall have a cold night; it may hurt tho fruit. I think you will find the fire comfortable. Pray sit down, sir." Ho offered Orton a chair and took one himself, waiting, however for his guest to be seated first. His manner was grace itself, and although his voice was not so mellifluous as Victor's, he spoke French with a charming Creole accent. Orton soon learned that ho was a native of Martinique whence he had come many years beforo to settle here in tho blooming wilderness of the Gulf-coast country, lie had found it a most delightful place to live, ho said, here on the quiet bayou where ho could have his cattle in the broad marsh meadows, and his sugar-cane fields beyond. There was excellent shooting near at hand, and tho fishing was glorious in all tho waters. He examined Orton's guns a rifle and a fowling-piece and found them very tine; then ho fetched his own and exhibited them; they were still liner, but of much older pattern. One of them, a short, heavy smooth-bored piece for shot or ball, had a stock of some rich, satin-like wood upon which was carved the same snake design noticed by Orton on the feet of tho spinet in the adjoining room, and its lock was a masterpiece of engraving and modeling. While they were looking at these weapons, along with some pistols, pouches aud a pair of rapiers, Orton became aware that a third person had entered the room. Ho heard the rustle of a dress and the sound of a light foot-fall on tho floor. Looking up his eyes met those of a petite, plump girl whose oval face was very dark and whose lips wero as red as cherries. "My friend, Monsieur Orton, my daughter Lalie," said Garcin as Orton rose. Tho girl dropped a quaint conrtesy and camo forward to take the young man's hand, a faint blush showing under the dusk of her beautiful 6kin. She was not more than fifteen, but she appeared quite developed; one of those quick, warm growths of the South, soon to flower, soon to fade. "Tho gentleman is a very great; artist, Lalie, and he has come to live with us a while. Maybe he will make a picture of our house, our chateau," said Garcin gaily. "They say a ruin does well in a picture," she responded, "but I should think that the Kochon place would be a better subject. That is a very beautiful place." "Yes, I saw it from the bay," said Orton, "it must indeed be interesting. Py tho way, I saw the master of the place, too, and the young lady, what is her name!" "Felicie Kochon, is her name," said the girl quickly, "and she is very, very beautiful." "Is 6hcl I thought so. too, but she was so far away that I could not make out her features very well. What a pretty name it is, Felicie Kochon, don't you think so!" He spoke to her as ho would navo done to a child. "Are you acquainted with her!" ho added. . . She blushed as she answered in the negative, though she spoke without confusion. "Wo are not friends, though not enemies, Monsieur Kochon and I, said Garcin rather gravely. "We have never been over-sociable, nor havo we ever quarreled. You see how it is." Of course, Orton did not see how it was, but, much as he would have liked to know more, he felt that it was out of the question to make any further inquiries for the present. The name of Felicie Kochon was running through his mind like some haunting strain of music, and the vision of the two striking figures standing forth on the breezy bluff at Magnolia Point was still firmly set in his memory. It was a picture whose impression grew deeper all the time, and whoso colors increased in richness and purity. "Mo'sieu Gaspard Kochon is looked upon with a little suspicion, just a little suspicion, by some people, but I don't knowabout it."aaiu Garcin moving rather nervously. "Some 6ay he ought to be taken in hand by the government, but I don't know, to bo sure. I courd not testify against him in the least." Nothing could have sharpened Orton's interest more than this indirect tattle concerning Kochon, for it confirmed in a way the romantic stories told by Victort anil hung about the figures most in his mind a thicker veil of mystery. "I came in to tell you that luncheon is ready for you," said the girl, -going close to her father and laying a plump hand on his thin muscular shoulder. Now for the first time Orton noticed how the dark blood of Martinique had set an mimistakablo seal on all her features. Sho looked up at him quickly and, as if she had read his thoughts, appeared to shrink a little, the smile slipping from her lips leaving them pouting and serious, while her yes quivered and fell quickly. Amomert later she went and drew back a heavy, somewhat faded curtain, showing the way to a spacious dining-room in the log part of the house. Madame Garcin, a heavy, commonplace woman of almost African complexion, greeted them with profuse politeness. Sho spoke very rapidly and with a marked accent and a broadening of all the vowel sounds. Orton glanced around to see the walls of round pine logs hung with antlers and other trophies of tho chase, guns, pistols, swords, knives, tho wings and tails of bright-feathered birds and a few uninportaut pictures, mostly shooting scenes. Small art had been shown in the arrangement of these curious ornaments, but the effect was replete with a half barbaric simplicity and strength. The two narrow windows of the room were hung with curtains of dressed buckskin upon whose rich, vellow ground had been wrought simple but pleasing designs in embossed needlework of blue silk. Above each was a tealskin, with wings and neck outspread. There were strong dashes of red, orange and green, here and there, from the feathers of paroquets, jays, grosbeaks and flamingoes, massed in odd places. The ceiling was the roof itself made of heavy 'boards of heart-pine, rich with resin. A very simple luncheon was spread upon an oval table in the center of the room. Hard, sweet biscuits, thinly sliced dried venison, preserved fruit, coffee and wine were served in a leisurely way by a negro girl whose head was bound with a snowy cotton cloth. During tho course of the repast. Orton, whose mind would wander back to dwell upon one subject, inquired about the distance to Kochon place, and was surprised not a little when, in the conversation which followed, Madame Garcin said: "Mo'sieu Kochon is a very line gentleman; he is a great friend of ours." Tho host coughed a little, figetcd in his chair and remarked: "Ah, well, not a great friend, Madame, not a near friend, certainly. Only just a neighbor of whom wo must speak well, you know, out of due politeness." "Mo' Dieu! precisely so," exclaimed tho vivacious hostess, glancing half inquiringly from her husband to her daughter and finally at Orton. She poised her stout figure with an effort at reserve and added: "Mo'sieu Orton will not misunderstand." In truth the young man could neither understand nor misunderstand; the whole matter was a mystery to him. .For lack of a better way out of tho awkward situation he simply said:! "1 should very much like to visit tho Kochon place." Swift glances and furtive signs wero exchanged by the Garcins; but this escaped Orton's observation, so busy was he with his inward vision. It brought out a common smile when all three of them said at once: "Tho young lady U extremely beautiful,"

Madame Garcin even laughed aloud in a subdued way. "It must fo so," remarked Orton, "when everybody declares it." "Oh, but she ' is perfectly lovely," exclaimed Lalie. "I never have seen any ono else that was half so beautiful. When you once have your eyes on her, Mo'sieu, you will say this yourself, certainly." "Doubtless," said Orton, "and beforo long that is just where I hope to have my eyes. 1 shall feel honored indeed if I can but see, from a little closer point of view, this lovely Lily of Kochon." "Oh, but that is charming!" cried Lalie, "that name for her. Vou are clever, Mo'sieu Orton, to think of it. It suits her precisely. The Lily of Kochon. I like it." The smiles and surreptitious signals went round a tea in; this time Orton was indirectly aware of them. "Miss Kochon is known by the flowery title.is she not!" he inquired quickly, looking from one to another. "Captain Victor said so, and it pleased mo to accept his nomenclature along with his very romantio stories." "Certainly. Mo'sieu Victor told yon truly, tho Lily of Kochon is what the sailors all name her," said Madame Garcin, with her inimitable Teadiuess and swif tness. "Probably Lalie did not know that; Lalie is very young, you see." "I am past fifteen now," the girl affirmed, pouting prettily and glancing shyly at Orton, "ana certainly that isn't a bauy's age. Do you think it is, Mo'sieu Orton!" "Lalie!" "Lalie!" In ono breath both father and mother chided the girl, while at the same time they were laughing admiringly and looking with wide-oDen eyes from each other to Orton. Olives and little dry-salt tish, with claret, wero served just tlicii by the demure waiter. "For my part," said Lalie, persistently, "I am quite tired of being such a very little bit ofacirl. Keally, I should like to be called Ma'm'zelle Garcin, with a low bow and a venr deferential air." "Lalie!" "Lalie!" Orton laughed, and the host and hostess looked contentedly surprised at their daughter's show of boldness and spirit. "She is quite spoiled, is Lalie," observed Madame Garcin, presently, as she gave the signal for rising. "She has been our only one, and has not seen much of life. Tho birds in tho woods know as much as she. Certainly she is a little wild and untaught, but she is a good child." "She speak Englees mo' fas fan me," added Garcin, in an undertone, "but sho shame, she scare w'en sho speat eet, certainly. I don' 'no' w'at at sho scare w'en sho speak zat Englees. Now, myself, it scare not me w'en I speak zat Englees so veil. Eet ees not any shame to spak eet." They passed into the room whero tho spinet was, and Lalie, after a while, sang some light songs, playing quite cleverly. Her voice was not strong, but it had the touch of wildness which Orton likeda bird-like sweetness with a quality of its own, rare and engaging. Tho wind continued to blow from tho north during the rest of the day, so that Orton found it very agreeable to remain indoors, now chatting with Lalie, now smoking with Garcin, anon reading in an old French romance that he found on tho mantel in his room. At night the wind fell. A calm of two hours was followed by a balmy breath from the gulf. Soon it was warm again. Dinner came at 7, the table bearing a load of viands charmingly served. The houso was lighted with myrtle-wax candles, whoso faintly-fragrant smoko touched the air with a delicate film of dreamy individuality, so to call it, at once gratifying and unique. Py tho time that Orton sought his bed the moon had come up and the air was full of tender warmth. 1 liat night, while tho mockingbirds sang as if under their breath, and while Lalie slept just beyond the wall from him, he dreamed of the Lily of Kochon. CONTINUED NEXT 8 UN DAY. 1 Copyright, 1889, by Maurice Thompson. A Venerable Tree. Harper's "Weekly. One of tho most celebrated oaks in the State noted for its historic trees has fallen a victim to the vandal's ax at Woodbridge, Conn. The Quinnepiac oak, as it was known, was considered by Prof. Daniel C. Eaton, the Yale College botanist, to be tho oldest tree on the Atlantic coast. He placed its age at from 1,500 to 2,000 years, while Oliver Wendell Holmes and Professor Abbott, of New York, respectively, pronounced it l,s00 and 2,000 years old. The circumference of the tree was over twenty-seven feet, aud the diameter of tho space covered by its branches, ninety-three feet. It stood on the hills of Woodbridge, and could be seen for miles around. From its branches tho regicides Goffe, Whalley and Dixwell kept a lookout upon their pursuers, a twig from it made tho whip with which Humphrey Norton was Euntshed for harboring a, Quaker, General ,afayette and other oflicers of Washington's army once rested under its spreading shade while on the march, and a visit to the tree by Woodworth is said to have inspired tho poem "The Old Oaken Pucker." Twice within the last half century the oak was ransomed from destruction by the payment of money to its owners, and in 18S2 ex-Governor English ottered &200 for the tree and the land on which it stood, intending to inclose it with an iron fence, but $400 was demanded and the matter was dropped. The wood of the oak has now been purchased by prominent men aud wiil be preserved in the shape of chairs and other useful articles. lie Convinced Her. Washington Critic. "In my opinion," said Rev. Mr. Siacrusher, to a pretty though pious young woman of his congregation, "the waltz is very, very wicked, indeed." "So I have always thought," sho replied, "and have never indulged in it." "Yes, yes," ho continued, "tho waltz whirls its gay kaleidoscope around, bringing hearts so near that they almost beat against each other, mixing the warm breath together, darting the fire of electricity between the meeting fingers. Hushing the face and lighting the eyes with a quick language, pulsing every fibre " "Jerushy, Mr. Sincrusher," she exclaimed, jumping up, "is it anything like that!" "More," he said, solemnly, "much more." "Well, that's enough. I guess I'll go and

learn. I never knew before what I was missing, The Cause of Womankind Advancing. New York Graphic. . Half a century ago in Turkey it was considered a disgrace for a woman to know how to read. To-day the Sultan himself lias established two schools for girls in Constnntinople. Seventy years ago Harriet Newell went to India to find the women shut up in zenanas, ignorant and degraded. From the very place where she landed there camo to this country, not long ago, Mme. Joshee, a highly educated Prahminwoman, tostudy medicinein tho Woman's College in Philadelphia. No one would have believed, even twenty years ago, that a high estate Prahmin lady would address an audience of her own sex, in choice English, from an American pulpit.as was the case with PunditaKamabai. 1 he cause of womankind is advancing all tho world over. A Land of Hope for Spinsters. New York Telegram. There is hope for spinsters after all. Tho agent of tho Canadian Pacific railroad at Indian Head, Northwest Territory, wants the great trunk lines to issuo "passenger's return rebate marriage certificates." His scheme is to bring woman out West at a rebate provided they remain and get married, thereby adding to the population. Mothers-in-law are tne only ones barred. What a glorious salvation for the dear old girls who have been fondling poodle dogs all these years. One Woman Describes Another. Gertrude Atherton. in the Argonaut. Elbowing with her is Ella Wheeler Wilcox, in a dove-gray directoire gown and cloak, and hat very retrousse in front. Iu her hand sho carries a card-ca.M with a watch in one corner. Sho is a little, mousecolored woman, who needs a conspicuousness of attire. A sensitive moutn is her only striking feature, and she suggests the domestic, but not the caloric. She is very slight, and in a dim light looksquite young. A National Flower. Chicago News. All this talk about a national Uower for this country is superlluous. Of course tho only tlower suitable to be the emblem of the United States is the daisy. Au Important Point Lacking. Brooklyn StamlanM'nion. The babv incubator is the latest device to "raise babies." Where is the machine to take caro of them when they are raised I

I1KNTON AND CLAY.

Reminiscences Illustrative of the Character of The Great Men. Ilannibal Hamlin, at tho Chicago Banquet. I witnessed this incident in the Senate, in which Thomas H. Benton plaved prominent part: Senator Eoote, of Mississippi, had assailed him violently daily until Mr. Henton deliberately arose one morning in tho Seuate and declared that if the rules of the Seuate were not enforced by its presiding officer, ho would take tho rules into his own hands. (Applause and laughter. He notitied the Senator from Mississippi that "if he continues bis personal assaults on myself, I will take caro of him myself." Laughter. Well, I was quietly writing one morning when my ear told me that Eoote was pursuing precisely tho same course of proceedings as the day be-, fore; tho chair of Denton, on my left, was thrown back with great violence, and ho passed mo in the area and went towards Footo as though he had a purpose in his mind. I never doubted that ho had. Foto glided out from his seat down amid the Senators, taking from 6ome part of his ierson a pistol and attempting to cock it. I suppose it was one of that kind of pistols that had a guard in the rear, and he had forgotten to null tho guard around and couldn't cock it: but when he was passing down and trying to use tho pistol, Denton literally tore his vest open and said: "Senators, stand aside and let the assassin shoot." Applause. Well, the assassin tinally reached the seat of Daniel 11. Dickinson, of New York, who disarmed him, and there was a cry all over the Senate, "No quarreling! No quarreling!" Denton had returned to his seat, and with the dignity of a Roman he said: "Mr. President, I never quarreled in my life! I have some times fought, and when I fought I fought for a funeral." lApplause and laughter. Well, I recollect another incident of that great man. In those days Friday of each week was devoted to a consideration of private bills. Nothing else was done. Tho journal was read and we proceeded immediately to the consideration of private bill. A bill was taken from the President's tablo and the Secretary commenced reading it. Mr. Denton sat at ray right. Senator Yuleo, of Florida, sat directly between Denton aud myself in front. I happened to note that ulee turned and looked at Senator Denton's seat, which was vacant. The Secretary commenced tho reading of tho bill. Soon Mr. Denton came in, and he said to me: "Hamlin, what bill is that before tho Senate!" I said: "I don't know; it don't interest me, but it relates to some man down in Florida." The Senator rose in his placo and said: "Mr. President, will tho Secretary read the title of that billf I was not in my placo when the commencement of the reading took place." The Secretary read it. I noticed that tho mild Senator from Missouri looked attentivel$' at Senator Yulee. The secretary went on to read. Again the Senator from Missouri arose in his place and said: "Mr. President, the bill upon the calendar is misplaced. It should occupy the position of another further on, and the bill further on should occupy tho place of this bill. I think it arose from an entry made by the Secretary, and there was an agreement between the Senator from Florida and myself that when action was reached upon these bills a transposition should taKO place." He sat down. Tho Senator from Florida still made no response. Then again the Senator from Missouri arose, a little troubled in his mind, I thought, and said: "Mr. President, I ask a categorical answer from the Senator from Florida, if I have utt stated tho agreement between ourselves correctly." Then the Senator from Florida arose and said that he had, aud made no other remark and took his seat. Again the Senator from Missouri arose and said: "Ah. the Senator from Florida may know nothing about it, but the Senate now has the bill before it, and can dispose of it as it sees fit." The Senator from Missouri manifested a little of that mildness which his mother never discovered. Laughter. He said: "Mr. President, I never expected to see the day when an honorable Senator in this body would rise and admit that ho had made a specific agreement with another honorable Senator and then repudiate it in the face of tho Senator. lApplause. Is there another Senator in this body who would have the impudence to mako 6uch a declaration!" In an undertone or whisper that would reach tho furthest verge of tht Senate the Senator from Missouri, said: "Good enough for me. I never knew a man to make a contract with these critters that murdered Jesus Christ that didn't get cheated." (Applauso and laughter. This incident is a true one. but you willnot lind it inthcCongres8ional (Jlobe, because I sometimes exercised my inliuence to prevent such a publication in the journal of tho Senate. Applause and laughter.) I met Henry Clay, that peerless commoner, at Washington, not long before ho passed away. While 1 thought his mental powers wero well preservfd, thero was a want of pbj-sical power to give full demonstration to the mind; but one day, Henry S. Foote, in the Senate, undertook to admonish and instruct thedistinguished Senator from Kentucky as to what was his duty, ho representing a slave State, and then tho lire Hashed from the eye of Henry Clay and the voice spoko in thunder tones of rebuke. It permitted one to know what Harry Clay was in his earlier and better days. There is one moro reminiscence I will trouble you with. 1 remember it was iu an evening session. James Mason, of Virginia, who was an arrogant, supercilious, haughty aud overbearing man in his demeanor, arose in his seat and made au assault upon Daniel Webster. Ho had in his hand a little pamphlet, and he quoted from it as a public document, and empnasi zed the words. I noted Daniel Webster. He sat with a thunder-cloud upon his brow, and I knew there, was lightning that would break forth ' at the proper time. I think that the assault made upon Webster by Mason was in consequence of some action of Mr. Webster while in the State Department, but that is not material. Tho pamphlet was an assault upon Daniel Webster. Mr. Mason had adopted it as a public document, and ho read from it and commented upon it. Tho pamphlet itself was a comment upon the action of Mr. Webster. Webster sat with a brow lowering like a thunder-cloud. Mason finally concluded, and Webster arose and the floor was accorded him, and I think I shall never forget tho epigrammatic sentences with which Daniel Webster commenced his speech. He demolished him in the first two sentences. It was perfectly awful. Said he: "Mr. President, the Senator from Virginia misstates my position the evidence of a weak head or a corrupt heart. Laughter. I do not know of any man in the world that wants to assume either of them." Applause and laughter. It was an awful position to put a man in. Mr. Webster had not spoken three minutes before every Senator saw that Mr. Mason had drawn a wrong and an incorrect infereuco from the pamphlet itself. Mason saw it as rapidly as the rest of the Senators, and bo rose to make the admission. "The Senator from Virginia will 6it down; the Senator from Massachusetts has the floor, and he will not yield it." He wanted to excoriate him. I see Webster now as ho said: "A public document! Not even the imprint on its face of the press from which it came. Tho man who printed it would not own that ho put it in type. A public document! Poor orphan! It has not a printer who will own it, and God only knows who is its author. Laughter and applause. Tho Senator from Virzinia quotes it as a public document." Well, after occupying what time he chose to occupy, he 'permitted Senator Mason to speak, who arose and made a proper apology. I think I was a little instrumental iu getting the debate suppressed. You will not tiud it in the Congressional Decord. Applause and laughter.) These incidents may bo interesting, but they are not instructive to this occasion, and they ar subiects, perhaps, I should not have spoken of; but I wish to say that I rejoice that I am su tiered to be with you upon this grand occasion. Tribulations or Ited-IIaired People. Washington Tost. A man with red hair applied to tho proprietor of one of the hotels on the avenue tho other day for a place as engineer, tho proprietor wanted a man, and th applicant was highly recommended, but be was refused the situation because of the color of his hair. Said the Jandloard: "1 never knew a man with red hair who was not quiek-teinpered and excitable. I couldn't think of putting one in a placo requiring coolness and even-temper, and then ho might get in a mood to blow up mo and my guests." A young lady in Southeast Washington had three young men arrested ami lined j each, as the police report show, because. when sho passed, they pretended to look for a white horse, and made remarks about a "tire," etc. It snnns to l gruesome times for red hair. The only led heads that are benefited are red head ducks. Over tho cauvas back tho red head has the advantage of being worth lcs in the xuaxktfe