Rensselaer Republican, Volume 14, Number 29, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 6 April 1882 — A BOOK-KEEFER. [ARTICLE]

A BOOK- KEEFER.

Translated From tit • French of Alphonse Daudet. “Brr! what a fog! ’ said the man, ms he stepped into the street. He quickly turned up the coller of his coat and pulled his comforter over his mouth; then, with his head bent down and his hands thrust into his back poektts, he started for the office whistling. A real fog, indeed. The streets however, were comparatively clear of it, in the heart of great cities the fog lasts no longer than the snow. The roofs tear it, the walls absorb it:it loses itself in the houses as they are opened r making the stairways slippery, and balustrades damp. The rush ot vehicles, the coining and going of pedestrians, those morning pedestrians, so but vied and so poor, cut it bear it away, disperse it; it clings to the shrunken and thin office garments,. to the shop girl’s waterproofs to the loose little veils and to the huge silk oil cloth covered bandbox boxes, liiit upon the yet deserted quays, on the bridges, the strand and the river, there was a heavy, opaque motionles mist, amid which the sun was descending back of Notre Dame Despite the wind despite the fog, tlie man followed the quays,only the quays, to go to his office. He might Have taken another route, but the river seemed to possess a mysterious attraction for him. It was his delight to pass along (he parapets, to brush against those stone balustrades worn by the elbows of the idlers. At that hour and in such weather idlers are rare. Nevertheless,now and then we met a woman with a huge bundle of soiled linen resting against the parapet, or some foor devil leaning over on his elbows towards the water with an air of weariness. The man turned around each time, looked at them curiously and as erwards at the water as if in his mind a secret thought connected these people with the river The river had not an inviting appearance that morning. The fog which mounted from among its waves, seemed to make it leaden. The gloomy roofs on the banks,all the irregular and leaning chimney shafts which were reflected, jmingled and smoking in the midst of the water, suggested some lugubrious manufac-

tory, sending to Paris from the depth of the Seine all the smoke in the guise of fog. The man,however had not the air of discovering anything so very melancholy about all this. The dampness penetrated him at every poiut and his garments had not a dry thread in them; but he went on all the same, whistling.with at happy smile,at the corner of liis lips for such a long while he had been accustomed to the mists of the Seine! Then, he knew, that on reaching his destination he would find an excellent foot warmer well lined with fur his stove which roared while waiting for him, and the warm little plate from which he ate his breakfast every morning. These are some of the prison joys known only to those poor crouching beings whose whole lives *re passed iu a corner. “I must not forget to buy some apples,” said he to himself, from time to time, and he whistled and hastened on. You never saw any one go to his work so gayly . The quays, still the quays; then a bridge. Now he was behind Notre Dame. At this point of the isle the fog was more intense i han ever. It came from three directions simultaneously, half obliterated the lofty towers and massed itself at the angle .of the bridge as if it washed to hide something. The man stopped; he fciad arrived. There was a confused glimpse of sinister shadows, of people squatted upon the sidewalk who had the air of wAing, and as at the gratings of hospitals and squares, of baskets spread out, displaying rows of biscuits, oranges aud apples. Oh! the beautiful apples, so fresh, so red in the mist! He filled his pockets with them, smiling upon the vender who was shivering, her feet on her footstone; afterwards he pushed open a door in the fog and crossed a little court yard in which a horse was standing harnessed to a cart. “Have you something for us?” asked he as he passed. A carter dripping with water answered: “Yes, monsieur; something very nice.” Then he quickly entered his office. It was warm there and he felt well satisfied. The stove roared in a cottier. The foot-warmer was in its place. His little arm-chair awaited him in the full light near the window. The fog, hanging liken curtain b.fbre the panes of glass, made the brightness uniform and soft, and the huge books,

with grecti backs, were in a straight line on their cases. It was like a notary’s office. _ Thg naan drew a long breathy he *ras at home, f *• # Before going to work he opened a large closet, taking from it a pair of lnstrlpg slepves, which he carefully put on, a small earthenware dish and some lumps of sugar from a case ;then he began to pare his apples, looking around him with satisfaction. The fact is that It would be impossible to find a gayer, lighter or better arranged offloe. But what was strange was the noise of water which one heard from every direction which surrounded and enveloped one. as if he were Jn the cabin of a bout. Below the Beina dashed growlingly against the %rches of the bridge, tearing its foamy flood at this part of the isle always encumbered with planks, stakes and rubbish. But, in the very house, all around the office, there was a gushing of water as if pitchers were being violently emptied, the noise of a vast wash. One could not tell why, but simply to hear this water froze one. One felt that it struck a hard floor, that it rebounded from broad slabs, from marble tables that made it appear still colder. What had they in that strange house that needed so much washing? What was the indelible stain? At times, when this gushing ceased, below, at the further end of the house, drops were heard falling one by one, as after a thaw or a heavy rain. One might say that a fog, massed upon the roof and walls, not melting in the beat of the stove and dropping continually. The man paid no attention to this. He was altogether engrossed by his appies which he had begun to sizzle in tho earthenware dish with a slight perfume of caromel, and this pretty song prevented him from hearine the noise of the water, the sinister noise of the water. “Whenever you are ready, Register!” said a hoarse voice at the further end of the nouse. He cast a look at his apples and went away very regretfully. Where did he go? Through the door, open partially for a moment, came a miiseous and cold air which smelled of reeds and the marsh, and there was a vision of old clothes drying upon cords; faded blouses, watermen’s jacketsjand a woman’s calico dress suspended at its full length by the sleeves, which dripped, dripped. It was over. The man returned. He deposited on his table some small objects all soaked with water, and went shivering towards the stove to take the numbness out of his hands, red with cold.

“They must be mad, indeed, to do such things in such weather as this!” said he to himself, shaking. “What is the matter of them all?” And when he was well warmed and his sugar had commenced to Jelly at the edge of his dish, he began to eat his breakfast on a corner of his desk. As he ate he opened one of his registers and turned the leaves complacently. The huge book was well kept! Straight lines, headings in blue ink, little reflections of gold powder and blotters on every page—such care, such order. Jt seemed as if business were prosperous. The man had the satisfied air of an accountant looking at the close of the year. While he was amusing himself by turning the pages of his book the doors opened in the adjoining hall, and the footsteps of a crowd sounded upon the marble slabs people spoke in low tones as if in a church: “Oh! how young she is! What a shame!” and they pushed and whispered. What difference did it make to him that she was young? Tranquilly, as he finished his apples, he drew before him the objects he had just brought in; a thimble full of sand, a portmonnaie with a soil in it, a pair of small rusty scissors, so rusty that they could never be used again!—a work girl’s book, the pages of which were glued together by the dampness, and a letter in tatters, partially effaced, of which these few words could be made out: “The baby—no money —nothing to pay the nurse.” The book keeper shrugged his shoulders, as much as to say: .The old, old story! I know it by heart!” Then he took up his pen, carefully blew off the crumbs of bread which had fallen upon his huge volume, made a gesture to put his hand in the proper position, and in his most beautiful round chirography wrote the name he had deciphered in the wet little book: « Felicie Rameau, burnisher, aged seventeen.”

The store of Jacob Barer, at Branchtown, a suburb of Philadelphia, burned. Loss, $50,000. The British government proposes to disfranchise certain boroughs for corrupt election practices. Five hundred and eighty emigrants started from Stettin, via Bremen, for the United States Tuesday. Judge Advocate General Swaim has found mitigating circumstances in the case of Sergeant Mason. A couple recently divorced in Los Angelos, Cal., repented, made up, and were remarried tne next day. Hundreds ot telegrams, are being received at the white house urging the president not to §ign the Chinese bill. If the water recedes in the Louisiana sugar districts within twenty days, enough can be saved for seed and fair grinding. Robert Fov, a Lake Erie & Western brakeman, was killed at Reed’s station while making a coupling.