Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 5, Number 45, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 8 May 1875 — Page 2

•A Paper

forIBie

THE WAY TO WOO.

Harries nevefpay. Take your lime a wary general Always feds bis way, Do not poll your line too quickly,

Rather give It play. Take her sometimes to a concert— Sometlmes to a ball Sometimes spend a pleasant evening—

Sometimes only call Sometimes 'twill be tor the wisest Not to go at all! Do not meet your would-be-civals

With ajeaioos frown: Show her that yon don't rare twepenee For any man in town. PnOce her other beaux then wirelj I She will ran them down.

Bend her present#—not too costly, Trifles light as air Dainty fruits to please her palate

Flewera for hear hair— Something that will show you choose it Fairest for the fair. ,v Vex her sometimes (constant sunshine

Is so very tame Just a little dash of water

Brightens up aflame Love that doesn't to and splatter Isn't worth tb« name. ,, Then, at last some quJet evening *, (Moonlit nights are stale,) Prop into her oosy parlor,.

Looking rather pale. 5 Strive to hide yonr woe unutterea, But be sure to fail. Just hijit at a distant Journey

As & ftecrut hftlf-oonfeswd, Darkly speak of hidden sorrow,1• That forbids you rest Whisper that lis hard to leave her, 1

But peruops 'tis best.

Then If she should blush and tremble With a shy surprise— If there is no roguish sparkle

Twinkling in ber eyes— Then—then tell the old, old story Told first 'neath Eden's skies.

[8cribner's Monthly.]

Jean-ah Poquclin.

In the tirst decade of the present cenluiy, when the newly established American Government was the most hateful thing In Louisiana—vrhen the Creoles were still kicking at such vile innovations as the trial by jury, American dances, anti-smuggling

law8

and the

printing of the Governor's proclamation English—when the Anglo-American flood that was presently to burst in a orovftsso of immigration upon th© d©lt» had thus far been felt only a* slipper* seepage which mad© the Creole tremble fbr his footing—there stood, a short distance above what is pow Canal street, and considerably back from the line of yillas which fringed the river bank on Tehoupitoulas Road, an old colonial plantation-house half in ruin.

It stood aloof from civilization, the tracts that had once been its indigo fields given over to their first noxious wlldness, and grown up into one of the horridest marshes within ft circuit of fifty miles.

The houso was of heavy cypross, lifted up on pillars, grim, solid, and spiritless, its massive build a strong reminder ot days still earlier, when every man had jxsen his own peace officer and the insurrection of the blacks a daily contingency. Its dark, weather-beaten roof and sides wore hoisted up above the jungly plain In a distracted way, liko a gigantic ammunition wagon stuck in tno mud and abandoned by some retreating army. Around it was a dense growth of low water willows, with half a hundred sorts of thorny or fetid bushes, savage strangers alike to the "language of flowers" and to the botanist's Greek. They were hung with couutloss strands of discolored and prickly smllax, and the Impassable mud bolow bristled with chevaux de/rise ol the wart palmetto. Two lone forest-trees, dead cypresses, stood in the center of the marsh, dotted with roosting vultures. The shallow strips of water were hid by myriads of aquatic plants, under whose coarse and spiritless flowers, could one have seen it, was a harbor of reptiles, groUt and small, to make one sn udder to the end fcf his days.

The house was on a slightly raised tfpot, the levee of a draining canal. The wators of this canal did not run they crawled, and wore full of big, ravening fish and alligators, that held it against all comers.

Such was th® home of old Jean Marie Poquelin, once an opulent Indigo planter, standing high in the esteem of his small, proud circle of exclusively male acquaintances in the old city: now a hermit, alike shunned by and shunning all who had ever known him. "The last of his line," said the gossips. His fkthor lies under the floor of the St. Iiouls Cathedral, with the wife of his youth on one slue, and the wife of his old age on tho other. Old Jean visits the spot daily. Hi® half-brother—alas! there was a mystery no one knew what had b«wome of the gentle, young halfbrother, more than thirty years his junior, whom once he seemed so fondly to love, but who. seven yean ago, had disappeared suddenly, onoe tor all, and left no clue ef his fate.

They had seemed to live so hsppily in each other's lorn No father, mother, wife to either, no kindred upon earth. The elder a bold, frank, impetuous, chivalrie adventurer the younger a gentle, studious, book-loving recluse they lived upou the ancestral estate like mated birds, one always on the wing, the other always In the nest.

There was no trait in Jean Marie Poquelin, said tho old gossips, ibr which be waa so well known among bis few friends as his apparent fondness for his ««little brother.* "Jacques said this. and "Jacques said that he "would leave this or that, or anything to Jac-

A a* SINSB IMtkAlaV ttMn

the case required and "he should ask Jacqtie* as soon as he got home, ainco Jacques was never elsewhere to be AMD*

It was between the roving character of the one brother, and tho boohlshness of the other, that the estate fell Into decay. Jeaa Marie, generous gentleman, gunbled the slaves away one by one, until none was left, man, or woman, but one old African mute.

The indigo fields and vats of Louisiana bad been generally abandoned as onrv^ 'niunerativs. Certain enterprising men had suInstituted the culture of sugar but while the recluse was too apathetic to take so active a course, the other saw larger, and, at that time, equally rmpeotable profit*, first in smuggling, and later in the African wavetrade. What barm conld he see In it? The whole neenle said it waa vitally noowwarv, and uTminisUsr to a vital public uec^ty,--

Kotd enough, certainly, and so he laid up manv a doubloon, that made him none tb« worse in the public regard.

One day old Jean Marie was about to start upon a voyage that was to be longer, much longer, than any that he had yet made. Jacques had begged him, hard for many days not to go, but be

laughed him off, and-finally said, kissing nim **. Adieu Hit frere." "No," said Jacques, "I

Tbey left t$e sole care of fbe 4gGric«inm. aim away to thoGninlil cat tamth™

Two yeafb. aftK boms without Ms^uwm. H^nnijt hi arrived atltfs Bouse by night. I*oone saw him. IfaAo^iwbisperedthat he, toe, had returned, tint he bsd never been

d£rfc suspicion fell upon the old slave-trader. matter that the few kept the many reminded of the tender-

witchery, devilish crime, and hideous

It was not necessary to utter more •ban that. No bint of wickedness, de formity, or any physical or moral de merit merely the name, and the tone of mockery: "O Jean-ah Poquelin!" and while they tumbled one over another in their needless haste to fly, he would rise careftilly from bis seat, while |tho aged mute, with downcast face, went on rowing, and rolling up bis brown fist and extending it toward the urchins, would pour forth such an unholy broadside of French imprecation and invective as would all 6ut praze them with delight.

Among both blacks and whites the bouse was the object of a thousand superstitions. Every midnight, they affirmed, the /eu follet came out of the marsh and ran in and out of the rooms, flashing from window to window. The story of some lads, whose word in ordinary statements was worthless, was generally credited, that the night they camped in the woods, rather than pass the place after dark, they saw, about sunset, every window blood-red, and on each of the feu* chimneys an owl sitting which turned his head three times round and moaned and laughed with a human voice. There was a bottomless well, everybody professed to know, beneath the sill of the big front dpor under the rotten veranda whoever set his foot upon that threshold disappeared forever the depths below. What wonder the marsh grew as wild as Africa! Take all the faubourg St. Marie, and hvlf the ancient citv, you would not And one graceless dare-devil reckless enough to pass within a hundred yards of the bouse after nightfall.

The alien races pouring into old New Orleans began to find the few streets named for the Bourbon prinoes too straight for them. The wheel of fortune beginning to whir, threw them off beyond the ancient corporation lines, and sowed civilization and even trade upon the lands of the Graviers and Girods. Fiolds became roads, roods, streets. Everywhere the leveler was peering through tils glass, rodsmen were whacking their way through willow brakes and rose hedgos, arid

the

unlawful

sweating Irish

men tossed tno blue clay up with their long-handled shovels. lia! that is all very woll," quoth the Jean BapUstes, "but wait till they come yonder to Jean Poquelin's marsh hi! na! ha!" The supposed predicament so delighted them, that they put on a mock terror and whirled about in an assumed stampede, then eaught their clasped bands between their knees in excess of mirth, snd laughed till thetearsran for whether the street*makers mired in the marsh, or contrived to cut through old

Jean-ah's" property, either event would be Joyful. Meantime a line of tir.y rods, with bits of white paper In their split tops, gradually extended its way straight through the haunted ground, and crossed the canal diagonally.

[jy, We shall fill that ditch," said the still, still men in mud-bouts, and brushed close along the chained and padlocked gate of the haunted usausion. "Ah, Jean-ah Poquelin, these are not Creole boys."

He went to the Governor. That official scanned the odd figure with no slight interest. frame, with a

takapas

toned

a uuu umu.o w..u

I come to you. You la le Oouvmteur. I know not the kne Fr-r-rencb-a-man. something alter au e0ome at

long to Monsieur le President. you dosemesin for me, eh?" What is it?" asked the patient Governor.

I want you teUMonstewr le TresUtmt strit—can't—pttst—at—me—'ouse." Have a ahair, Mr, Poquelin but the old man did not stir. TherGoveraor

"sstjcs:&»•>.

a a

lo°k€d Intteira, b. .WmSy opoa the K:fc

bocLme ""^m'bolTf You don't s*, me trade tome Gnlnea

ThTman" wd his house were alike Youdon't see me make some smugshunned. The snipe and duck hunters gljp .. forsook the marsh, and the woodcutters No, sir not at all. abandoned the canal. Sometimes the "But, lam Jean 'ht• hardier boys who ventured out there mine tne hown bisnisa. Dst all righ snake-shooting beard a slow thumping Adieu. .tUArM, of oar-lecks on the canal. They would' He put his hat look at each other for a moment half in and by he stood, letter in hand, before

consternation, half in glee, then rush from their sport in wanton baste to assail with their gibes the unoffending, withered old man who, in rusty attire, sat in the stetnot a skiff, rowed homeward by his white-headed African mute "O Jean-ah Poquelin! O Jean-ah! Jeah-ah Poquelin!"

the person to whom it was addressed This person employed an interpreter. He says," said the interpreter to the officer, "he come to make you the fair warning how you inuz not make the street pas' at bis 'ouse."

The officer remarked that "such impudence was refreshing but the expe rienced interpreter translated freely. '•He says: 'Why you don't want?" said the interpreter.

The old

slave-traderanswered

Why, it will make his old place worth ten dollars to one," said the official to the interpreter. 'Tis not for de worse of de property," said the interpreter.

I should guess not," said the other, whittling his chair,—"seems to me as if some of those old Frenchmen would liever five in a crawfish hole than to have a neighbor."

You know what make old Jean Poquelin make like that? I will tell you. You know

The interpreter was rolling a cigarette, and paused to light his tinder then, as the smoke poured in a thick double stream from his nostrils, he said, in a

He is a witch." Ho, ho, he!" laughed the other. "You don't believe it? What you want so bet?" cried the interpreter, jerking himself up and thrusting out one arm while he bared it of its coatsleeve with the hand of the other.

How do you know asked the ofllcial. Dass what I goin' to tell you. Ti ou know, one evening I wa? shooting some grosbec. I killed three but I trad trouble to fine them, it was becoming so dark. When I have tbem I start' to come borne then I got to pas' at Jean Poquelin's house."

Ho, ho, ho 1" laughed the other, throwing his leg over the arm of bis chair.

Wait," said the interpreter. "I come along slow, not making some noises

And scared," said the smiling one. Mais, wait. I get all pas' the 'ouse. Ah 1* I say 'all right!' Then 1 see two thing' before! Hah! I get as cold and bumlde, and shake like a leaf. You

think it was nothing? There I see, so

He was of short, broad plain as can be (though It was making bronzed, leonino face, nearly dark,) I see Jean—Marie-Po-

His brow was ample and deeply furrow- que lin walkin' right in front, and right ed. His eye, law

and black, was bold there beside of him was sonwithing like

and open like that of a war-horse, and a man—but not a man—white like p^nt! bis laws shut together with the firmness I aropp' on tho grass from scared—they of iron. He was dressed in a suit of At- pass' so sure as I live 'twas the ghes'

cottonade, and his shirt unbot- of Jacques Poquelin, his brother!

and thrown back from the throat Pooh!" said the listener. and bosom, sailor-wise, showed a hercu- I'll put my han in the fire, said the lean breast, hard and grizded. There interpreter. was no fierceness or defianoe in bis look But did you never think, asked the no harsh ungentlenoes, no symptom ot other, "that that might beJackPoquehis

life or violent temper but lln, as you call him, alive and well, and rather a peacoftil and Jfeaceable fearless- for some caaso hid awav by his brothnoes. Across the whole free, not mark- er?" ed in one or another feature, bat as it But there bar* no cause!" said the were laid softly upon the countenance other, and the cntranoe of third parties like an almost imperceptible veil, was changed the subject ii&C KU BIU1WD the imprint of some great grief. A careless eye might easily overlook it, but, once seen, there it bung hint, but unmistakable.

The Governor bowed. Puriex-vovs lYtuuaisf** asked the figure.

I would rather talk English, if you can do so," said the Governor. My name, Jean Poquelin."

How can I serve you, Mr. Poquelin?" My 'onse la yond' tkmsle tMrixis la-

The Governor bowed.» Dat marw* billong to me." h4 "To me Jean Poquelin I hown Hra nivseir." it .*«•"»

WelLsir?" He don't billong to you 1 get him from me father." "That is perfectly true, Mr. Poquelin, as Car as I am aware." '•You want to make street pass yond

I do not know, sir: it is quite probable but the city will indemnify you for any loss you may suffer—you will get Mid, you understand." "^Strit cant pass dare." you will have to see the municipal authorities about that, Mr. Poqueltn.*

A bitter smile came upen the old

nun's

Ouse:

Pardon, Monsieur, you is not le Go*mrneurf* 1 «Yea."

juiiii. m. You bar Ja Oeawemear— yea. V?I^1L I come to you. toll you, strit caat pasw at me 'cawe.

Bat you will have to see

TERRE HAUTE SATURDAY EVENING MAIL.

strit

we bilwant

»*, «*„.

.p^k.r, .„d *?h immovable

at some

length. "He says," said the interpreter, again turning to the officer, "the inarass is a too unhealth' for penpl' to live." "But we expect to drain his eld marsh "it's not going to be a marsh." "Ildii The interpreter explained in French.

The old man answered tersely. He says the canal is a private," said the interpreter.

Oh! that old ditch that's to be filled up.' Tell the old man we're going to fix him up nicely."

Translation being duly made, the man in power was amused to see a thundercloud gathering on the old man's face. "Tell him," he added, "by the time we finish, there'll not be a gnost left in his shanty."

The interpreter began to translate, but "J1comprcnds, J1 comprends," said the old man, with an impatient gesture, and burst forth, pouring curses upon the United States, the President, the Territory of Orleans, Congress, the Governor and all his subordinates, striding out of the apartment as he cursed, while the object of his maledictions roared with merriment and rammed the floor with his foot.

Some months passed and the street was opened. A oanal was first dug through the marsh, the small one which passed so close to Jean Poquelin's house was filled, and the street, or rather a sunny road, just touched a corner of the old mansion's door-yard. The morass ran dry. Its venomous denizens slipped away through the bulrushes the cattle roaming freely upon its hardened surface trampled tbe superabundant undergrowth. The bellowing frogs croaked to westward. Lilies and tfre flower-du-luce sprang up in tbe place of reeds smilax and poison-oak gave way to the purple-plumed Iron-weed and pink spiderwort the bindweeds ran everywhere blooming as tbey raa, and on oiie of the dead cypresses a giaut creeper hung its green burden of foliage and lifted its scarlet trumpets. Sparrows snd redbirds flittered through tbe bushes, and dewberries grew ripe beneath. Over all these came a sweet, dry smell of salu brity which the place had not known ainee the sediments of the Mississippi first lifted it from the. sea.

But its owner did not build. Over the willow-brakes, and down tbe vista of the opened street, bright new bouses, come singly, some by ranks, were prying In upon tbe old man's privacy. Tbey eren settled down toward bis southern side. First a wood-cotters but or two, then a market gardener's shanty then a painted cottage, and all at once tbe Ifcubourg bad flanked, and half surrounded him a*.d his dried-up marsh.

Ah 1 then tbe common people began to hate him. "The old tyrant!" *Jfou don't mean an old tynudt" "Well,

then, why dont he build when the public need demands it? live in that unneigh "The old pirate!'^

hat does he waj^ for?"

aba! Jean-ah Marie! uelin! The old villain!" tho awarming Americans It of persecution! "The

old fraud," they say,pretends to live in a haunted bouse, doee he? We'll tar and feather him some day. tloeei we ean fix bias."

He cannot be rowed home along tbe old canal now he walk*. He has broken sadly of late, and the street urchins are ever at his heels. It is like the days when they cried: "Go up, tbou baldhead," aud tbe old man now and then turns and delivers Ineffectual curses.

To tbe Creoles—to tbe incoming lower class of superstitious Germans, aud Irish, and Sicilians, and others—he became an omen and embodiment of public and private ill-fortune. Upon him all' the vagaries of their superstitions gathered and grew. If a house caught Are it was imputed to his machinations. Did a woman go off in a fit, be bad bewitched her. Did a child stray off for an hour, the mother shivered with the apprehension that Jean Poquelin had offered him to strange gods. Tbe house was the subject of every bad bey's invention who loted to contrive ghostly lies. "As long as that house stands we shall have bad luck. Do yob not see our peas and beans dying, our cabbages and lettuce going to seed and our gardens turning to dust, while every day you can 'see it raining in the woods? The rain will never pass old Poquelin's house. He is a fetich. He has conjured the whole Faubourg St. Marie. And why, the old wretch? Simply because our playfiil 'and innocent children caU after him as he passes."

A "Building and Improvement Company," which had not vet got its charter, "bnt was going to." and which had not, indeed, any tangible capital yet. but "was going to have some," joined the "Jean-ah poquelin" war. The haunted property would be such a capital site for a market-house! They sent a deputation to the old mansion to ask its occupant to sell. Tbe deputation never got beyond the ol ained gate and a very barren interview with the African mute. Tbe President of the Board was then empowered (for he had studied French in Pennsylvania and was considered qualified) to call and persuade M. Poquelin to subscribe to tho company's stock but—

Fact is, gentlemen," he said at the next meeting, "it would take us at least twelve months to make Mr. Pokaleea understand the rather original features of our system, and he wouldn't subscribe when we'd done besides, the only way to see him is to stop hiin on the street."

There was a great laugh from the Board they couldn't help it. "Better meet a bear robbed of her whelps," said one.

You're mistaken as to that," said the President. "I did meet him and slop pod bim, and found him quite polite. But I could get no satisfaction from him: the fellow wouldn't talk in French, and when I spoke in English be hoisted his old shoulders up, ana gave tbe same answer to everything I said."

And that was," asked one or two, impatient of the pause, "that it 'don't worse w'ilo?'"

One of the Boird said: "Mr. President, this market-house project, as take it, Is not altogether a selfish one tbe community is to be benefitted by it. We may feel ftt we are Working in the public interest [the Board smiledTknowipgly,] if we employ all possible me&ns to oust this old nuisance from among us. You may know that at the time tbe street was cut through, this old Poque iin did all he could to prevent It. It was owing to a certain connection which I had with that affair that I heard a a ghost story [smiles, followed by a sudden dignified check]—ghost story, which, of course, I am not going to relate but I may say that my profound conviction, arising from a prolouged study of that story, Is, that this old villain, John Poquelin, has his brother locked up in that old house. New, if this is so, and we can fix it on him, I merely suggest that we can make tbe matter highly usefiil. I don't know," be added, beginning to sit down, "but that It is an action we owe to the community—hem!" "How do you propose to handle the subject?" asked the President.

I was thinking," said the speaker," that, as aBoard or Directors, ft would be unsdvlsable for us to authorize any action Involving trepass bat if you, for instanoe, Mr. President, should, as it were, for more curiosity request some one, as, for instance, our excellent Secretary, simply as a personal favor, to look into tbe matter this is merely a suggestion."

The Secretary smiled sufficiently to be understood that be would not refuse the President's request and tbe Board ad journed.

Little White, as tbe Secretary was called, was a mind, kind-bearted little man, who, nevertheless, bad ne fear of anything, unless It was tbe fear of being unkind.

I tell you frankly," be privately said to the President, "I go into this more to prove the old man innocent, than with any expectation of finding bim gnilty."

The next day, a little after nightfall, one might have descried this little Secretary slipping along tbe rear fence of the Poquelin place, preparatory to vaulting over Into the rank, grass-grown yard.

The picture presented to bis eve was not calculated to enliven his mind. Tbe oid mansion stood out against the western sky, Mack and silent. One long:, lurid pencil stroke along a sky of slate was all that was left of daylight. No sign of life Was apparent no lignt at any window, unless it might have been on tbe farther side of tbe bouse. Ne owls were oa tbe chimneys, no dogs were in the yard.

He entered the place, and ventured up behind a small cabin which stood apart from the house. Through one of its many crannies he easily detected the African mute crouched before a flickering pine knot, his bead on bis knncs, fas* asleep.

He concluded to enter tbe mansion, and, with that view, stood and scanned It. The broad rear steps of tbe veraada would not serve him he might meet some one midway. He was measuring, with his eye, tbe proportions erf one of tbe pillars which supported it. and estimating the practicability of climbing It, when he beard a footstep. Some oae dragged a chair out toward the railing, then seemed to change hb mindI and began to pace tbe veranda, bis footfhlla resoundingon the

dry

boards with singu

lar loudness. Little White drew a *ep bsckward. got tbe figure between hlmself snd tbe sky, andat onceireeognteed tbe short, broad-shouldered form of old Jeaa Poquelin.

He sat down upon a billet of wood, and, to escape the stings of whining cloud of mosquitoes, shrouded bis free

and neck in hia handkecphief, leaving his eyes uncovered. He hadlfrt there but moqjint when

to come from the pound.

Rising up, he notioed. for tbe first time, a few steps before him a narrow footpath leading toward the bouse. He glanced down It—ha! right there was someone Oomlng—ghostly white!

Quick as thought! and ss noiselessly, ha t«y down st rail length against the cabin. It was pure strategy, and yet, there was no denying It. little White Ml that be wss Mghtened. *'Itia not a ghost,'' be said to himself. "I Anew it cannot be a ghost hot the perspiration burst out at every pore, and the air seemed to thicken with beat. "It is a living man," be said in his thought. "I hear his ibetstep, and I hear eld Poquelin's footsteps, too,

separately,

The figure of. a man, a presence if not a body—but whether olsd in some white •tuff or nakel the darkusss would not allow him to determine—had turned, and now, with a seeming painful gait, moved slowly from him. "Great Heaven can it be that the dead do walk He withdrew again the hands whUSh bad gone to his eyes. Tbe dreadful object passed between two pillars and undfr the house. He listened. There was a feint sound as of feet upon a staircase: then all was still except tbe messured tread of Jean Poquelin walking on the veranda, and tbe heavy respirations of the mute slumbering in tbe eaUn.

The little Secretary was about tore* treat but as he looked ouce more toward the haunted house a dim light appeared in tbe cradk of a closed window, and presently old Jean Poquelin same, dragging his chair, and sat down close againM the shining cranny. He spoke in a low, tender tone in the French tongue, making some itaquinr. An answer eame from within. Was it the voice of a human? So unnatural was it «w hollow, so discordant, so unearthly —that the stealthy listener shuddered again from head to foot and when something stirred in some bushes near by—though it may have been nothing more than a rat—and came scuttling through the grass, the little Secretary actually turned and fled* As he left the incloeure he moved with bolder leisure through the bushes: yet now and then be spoke aloud: "On, oh!" and shut his eyee in his bands.

How strange that henceforth little White was tbe champion of Jean Poquelin! In season ana out of season— wherever a word wss uttered against him—tbe Secretary, with a quiet, aggressive force that instantly arrets ted gossip, demanded upon what authority the statement or conjecture was made but as he did not oondescend'to explain his own remarkable attitude, it was not long before tbe disrelish and suspicion which bad followed Jean Poquelin so many years fell also upon him.

It was only the next evening but one after hia adventure that be made himself a source of sullen amazement to one hundred and fifty boys, by ordering them to desist from tbeir wanton hallooing. Old Jean Poquelin, standing and snaking hia cane, rolling out his leng-drawn maledictions, paused and stared, then gave the Secretary a courteous bow and started on. The boys, save one, from pare astonishment, ocased but a ruffianly little Irish lad, more daring than any bad yet been, threw a big hurtling clod, that struck old Poquelin between the shoulders and burst like a shell. The enraged old man wheeled with uplifted staff to glvechaso to the scampering vagabond and—he may have tripped or he may not, but he fell fall length. Little White liasteued to help him up, but he waved him off with a fierce imprecation, and staggering to bis feet resumed his wsy homeward. His lips were reddened with blood.

Little White was on his way to tbe meeting of tbe Board. He would have given all he dared spend to have stayed away, for be felt both too fierce and too tremulous to br«*ok the criticisms that were likely to be made.

I can't help it, gentlemen I can't help you make a case against tbe old map. and I'm not going to."

We did not expect this disappointment, Mr. White." "Ioan'tbelp that,sir. No, sir you had better not appoint any more investigations. Somebodyll investigate himself into trouble. No, sir Tt isn't a threat, it is-only usy advice, but I warn you that whoever takes the task in nand will rue it to his dying day—which may be hastened, too."

The President expressed himself "surprised." I den't care a rush," answered little White, wildly and foolishly. "I don't care a rush if you are, dr. No, my nerves are not disordered my bead's as clear as a bell. "No. I'm not excited."

A Director remarked that the Secretary looked as though he bad waked from a nightmare.

Well, sir, if you want to know the fact, I have: aad if you choose to cultivate old Poquelin's society you can have one, too."

White," called a facetious member, but White did not notice. "White," he called again. "What?" demanded White, with a scowl.

Did you see the gbcet Yes, sir: I did?' cried White, hitting the table, and handing tbe President a jNaper which brought the Board to other business.

Tbe story got among tbe gossips that somebody (they were afraid to say little White) bsd been to tbe Poquelin mansion by night and bebeld something appalling. The rumor wss but a shadow of tbe truth, magnified and distorted as is the manner of shadows. Ho had seen skeletons walking, snd had barely escaped tbe clutches of one by making tbe sign of tbe cress.

Some madcap bays with an appetite for the horrible plucked up courage to venture through the dried marsh by a oattle-path, and come before the bouse at a spactral hour when tbe air wss full of bats. Something which they but b*lf saw—half a wght waa enoughsent tbem tearing oack through tbe willow-brakes and acacia busbes to tbeir homes, where they fkirly dropped down and cried:

Wss it white?" "No—yes—nearly so—we can't tell—but we saw It," And one coold hardly doubt, to look at tbeir ashen laces, that they nad, whatever it

If that old rascal lived In the country we come from," said certain Amercaas, "he'd have been tarred and feathered before now, wouldn't be, Sanders?

Well, now he just would." And we'd have rid him on a rail, wouldn't we?" "That's what I allow."

Tell you what you amid do." They were talking to some ro^klug Creoles

Ctftori

li ooilcf^Not from the

"Yes,

varee hi Little was si

over on

tbe veranda. I am not discovered the thing bm pawed there is that odor sgain what a smell of desth! Is it com ing back? Tf. Now it iagoav' He shuddered. "Now, if I dare venture, tbe mystery is solved." He rose cautiously, dose sgainsttbs cabin, aad peered aloug tbe path.

Even't

ssity you

who bad assumed an a| fordoing something.. call this thing whefif an 61c ries a young girk atiiyou cot hornsjoMQ—'§§ tbe Creole nm

an maroqt with

shi-

Why donV licWras suggcM th bis Wife beside him,

od theij8' doorittSps on the

sidewalk, as Creole custom bad taught them, looking toward the sunset. The view was not attractive on the score of beauty. The houses were small and scattered, and across the flat commons, spite of tbe lofty tangle of weeds and bushes and spite of the thickest of acacia, tbey needs must see tbe dismal old Poquelin mansion tilted awry and shutting out the declining son. The moon, white and slender, win hartting the tip of its horn over one of the cf imheys.

And you say,H st«d Hh* Secretary, "the old black man has been going by here alone? Patty, suppose old Poque-ifa-ehould be concocting some- mischief he dont lack provocation the way that clod him the other day was enough to have killed him. Why, Patty, he arep-

as quick as that No wonder you seeu him. I wonder if tbey haven't heard something about him up at the drug store. Suppos$ I go ana

Do," said his wife. She sat alone for half an hour, watching that sudden going out of the d^y peculiar to the latitude. "That moon is ghost enough forono house," she said, as her husband returned. "It has gone right down the chimney."

Patty," said Little White, "the drugclerk says tbe boys sre going to shivaree old Poquelin to-night. I'm going to try to stop it." why, White," said his wife, "you'd better not. You'll get hurt." "No, I'll not."

Yes, you will." *.*• "I'm going to sit out hlf# until th«y come along. Tbey re compelled to pass right by here."

Why, White, it may be midnight before they start you're not going to sit out here till then." "Yes, I am." "Well, you're very foolish," said Mrs. White in an undertone, looking anxious, and tapping one of tho steps with her foot.

Thev sat a very long time talking over little family matters. What's that at last said Mrs. White. "That's tho nine o'clock gun," said White, and tbey relapsed ihto a longsistained, drowsy silenoe.

Patty, you'd better go In and goto bed," said he at last. I'm not sleepy."

Well, you're very foolish," quietly remarked little White, and again silence fell upon thetn.

Patty, suppose I walk out to the house and see if I can find out any-/ thing." "Suppope." said she, "you don't do any sucn—listen!"

Down the street arose a groat hubbub. Dogs and boys were howling and barking *men were laughing, shouting,

fgroaning,

and blowing horns, whoop-

ng, and clanking cow-bells, whinnying, and howling, and rattling pots and pans.

They are coming thlB way," said lit-, tie White. "You'd better go into tho house, Patty."

"So bad you." *1 a No. I'm going to see if 1 can't stop them."

Why, White I'll bo back in a mfnute *safa white, and wont toward the noise.

In few moments tbe little Secretary met the mob. The pen hesitates on tho'» word, for there is a respectable differ-„ ence, measurablo only on the scale of the half century, between a mob and a ha iv a it W it if is In effectual voice. Ho faced tho head ol the disorderly column, and cast himself about as if be were made of wood and moved by the Jerk of a string.. He rushed to one who seemed, from the si*e and clatter of bis tin pan, to be a leader. "Stop these fellows. liienvenu, stop them just a minute, till tell them something", Bienveau turned and brandished Ids. instruments of discord in an imploring way to tho crowd. Thoy slackened their pace, two or three hushed their horns and joined tho prayer of little White and ilienvenu for silenoe. Tho throng halted—the hush wasdolicious.

Mienvenu," said little White, "dofi't sh I varee eld Poquelin to-night," he's—'' My twang," said the swaying Bienvenu. "who tail you I goin' to ehahivahi somebody, eh? You sink bickause I make a little play fool wiz zis tin pan /at hmdhonkV* "Oh, tio, Blenvenu, old follow, you're all right. 1 was afraid you might not know that old Poquelin was sick, you know, but you're not geing there, ar« you

My fwang, I vay soy to tail you zat you an dbonk as do do dov'. I am shem of you. I ham ze servan' of zo publiquc. Zeae citoyens goin' to wickwest Jean Poquelin to give to tho Ursuline' tw« bondred fifty aolla'

He quoi/"'cried a listener, "Cinq

ccni

piastres, Oui Oui/" said Blenvenu, "and if be wif-' fuse me make bim some lit' musiqur. "1 ta-ra-ta!" He hoisted a morry hand and foot, then frowning, added: "Old Poquelin got no bizniz dliink s'much w'isky."

But, gentlemen," said little White, around whom a circle had gathered, "the old man is very sick."

My faith!" cried a tiny Creole, "we did not make bim to be side. W'en we have say we going to make le charivari do you want that wo hall tell a lie My faitn! 'sfools!" "But you can shi varee somebody else," said desperate little White.

OiuF' cried Blenvenu, "el chtthaivahi Jean-ah Poquelin tomo'w!"

Let us go to Madame Schneider!" cried two or three, and amid huzzabr* and confused cries, among which wax heard a stentorian Celtic call for drinks, tbe crowd again began to move/

Cent piastres pour hopilal de ekuriter ****.. Hurrah

Whang!' went a tin pan, tho crowd veiled and Pandemonium gaped again. Tbey were off at aright angle.

Nodding, Mrs. White looked at the mantel-clock. Well. If it isn't after midnight!"

The hideous noise dewn street vfk* passing beyond earshot. She raised a f««h and listened. For a moment there was silence. Some one came to the door. "Is that you, White "Yes." He entered. "I sucoeeded, Patty."

Did you," raid Patty, joyfully. "Yes. They've gone down to sblrareetheold Dutchwoman who married her stepdaughter's sweetheart. Tbey say she has got to pay 9100 to tbo hospital before they stop."

The couplo retired, and Mr* Whit* slumbered. She was awakened by her husband snapping the lid of his watch.

What tlme?'°she asked. Half-toast throe. Patty, I haven slept a wink. Those fellows are oat yet. Don't you bear tfacio!" [QOfiCI'VPVO OK THIRD