Page images
PDF
EPUB

of work because they had the disagreeable way of doing things on their own responsibility. The snakes always held up the owls as examples to their young.

"Wisdom is a difficult thing to manage well," they would say, "if you don't know how to use it, you'd better let it alone."

The birds perched on the balcony-rail, the lyre-bird among them, while the animals slowly gathered in front of the Museum. The birds sang softly to themselves the simple airs of the forest. There were many valuable songsters among them, and when their rich, sweet, southern voices floated out on the still night air all the animals held their breath to listen.

Many of the quadrupeds who could sing at all, or thought they could, gathered on the steps below. The Menagerie boys sang some songs which had not been heard for many years. The striped Hyena sang a topical song with the usual numberless verses, which was greatly enjoyed and much applauded; he had a Frenchy voice well adapted to singing songs without tunes.

Jack listened intently, for the songs of the "rarae aves" from the South were extremely good. He leaned back against the cool stone and watched the moon make its way through a semitransparent cloud while he listened to a nightingale render one of its daintiest arias. When the moon shone out clear again there were no animals to be seen, a distant clock struck one; the stillness in the air was freighted with noise ready to burst upon the ear, or which was just dying away. He jumped to his feet,-the nightingale, where was it? There was nothing to be seen but the moon casting waving shadows of trees on the soft grass and enveloping half the steps in darkness.

Jack gazed thoughtfully up at the balcony, then a smile began to change the blank expression on his face; he turned and darted across the campus towards East Hall.

S. M. A., 'OI.

AMOR INESCANS.

The God of Love went a-fishing,
He baited his hook with a girl,
And in the pools

Replete with fools

Landed a witless churl.

Love put him on his gridiron

And set him aside to fry;
Then turned again

To angle for men

With his irresistible fly.

But the pin was bent, and the maiden

Torn by an unjust fate.

"No matter," said he;

"There are more like she

[And he reached for another bait]

"That are eager to dazzle, and covet
The chance, without thought to despond."
With a genial grin,

He straightened the pin

And selected a beautiful blonde.

G. W. F., 'OI.

I turned the corner. There was a flash of steel, a whirr of wheels, a wild panting sound, and then an inpenetrable cloud of dust rolling rapidly down the hill. For a moment I stood aghast; then I wavered between laughter, and tears of terror. This was what I saw a mad, runaway bicycle, going like a comet, and locked in the frenzied embrace of a ministerial looking youth. One long leg was lost in the whirling mazes of the machine. the other streaked out behind, and twitched in convulsive efforts to reach the ground. His eyes were turned wildly on the steep down-grade ahead-a picture of terror, agonized suspense, and utter impotence. There was an air of gleeful, devilish determination about the bicycle, of which he seemed aware. It leaped on, untrammeled by his despairing grip, and in a flash they were gone. I never knew what became of them. The denouement did not take place in our town.

[merged small][graphic]

"DE OLE BAN'."

"Yes sir'ee dey don't hav' de good tam we was hav' w'en I was a 'petite garcon,'" returned Louis, the village barber, to a remark of mine that times change; a most natural turn in the conversation with an old inhabitant when the topics of the day had been exhausted. "Things was certament change too from w'en I used to play de 'Tubad' in de ole ban'," he continued, as we listened to a popular air coming through the shop window from the Queen's band which was playing in the Square to keep the people mindful amid the booming of cannon from the fortress that it was Her Majesty's birthday. The little Canadian village was "en fete" for the day, and it seemed as though the entire population were clustered about the roughly constructed band stand. The Bailiffs who had been drinking several too many toasts to the health of their sovereign had relaxed their vigilance over the people, and now sat rigidly edging the stand as white and severe as statues, viewing with unconcern the crowds which passed beneath them. The Priests and Sisters from the monastery and convent near by seemed to take up the tangled reins of government which had been dropped by the Bailiffs and moved benignly among the people. Now a pair of lovers hand in hand, as is the way with country-folk, would pass beneath the window and lose themselves to view in the throng which encircled the musicians. Louis stopped honing his razor (he had closed his shop to customers for the day) and went to the window.

"Yes, dey prob'ly play finer dan wat we used to, but jus' de sam' dey ain't de ole ban.' I nev' tole you how we start dat ban', eh?" Louis continued as he seated himself again at the bench and drew a razor thoughtfully across his thumbnail to test its edge.

"Well, dare was wan liv' 'ere long tam 'go, 'is nam' me tink it be Jean Beaupré an' he was hav' wan wife an' two girl. Dey was fine girl too, de wan nam' Amy was be wit my femme w'en Clovis he be born. Dat be de way dey bot were, all tam

help somebody an' 'is wife she be jus' de sam'. But Jean was diffrent lak de rain be from de soone shine. He be de meanest man I nev' saw an' he abusee h'evrybody from de Pries' down 'is leetle dog Prinny. He was beat 'is wife an' de butcher an' mos' h'evryrybody who have deal wit him. De villagers call 'im Jeanus-I don't know myself moch 'bout dat. I nev' pass on de college, but Jeanus is dat ole feller who have two face.

"Jus' for show you wat kind of man Jean was—. Wan cole, cole night on de winter tam, I was clos' my shop an' pass on de street w'en I hear some wan cry for help. Den de voice it say-Jean you was kill me,' an' den I was know for sure it be come from 'is house, den I hurry fas' I could an' walk in de maison wid out mak' rap. Dare I was find 'im choke 'is pauvre petite femme an' I los' no tam to grab 'is sho'ler an' say, 'Jeanus you are hyppocriter of de deep dye.' An' w'en he see who I be he turn 'roun' an' say, 'H'excuse to me Louis, I dint know you be dare,' an' den he say to 'is femme, 'Did I hurt you my dear?' Dat be de kind of man Jeanus was.

"Well w'en de winter pass an' de ice was go from de lake, Jean wife take fever, so Monsieur Doctor say, but I know all de tam it be de heart break w'ich mak' 'er sick. In de spring tam w'en de bird was call for 'is mate, an' de violet was firs' show 'is leetle head in de forres' she be die, an' go w'ere de bird was sing so loud mos' all de tam dat she can't hear Jean. We was all feel bad for lose 'er h'excep' Jean, who was feel no wors' dan if he haf some hay leave out in de rain. De two girl dey cry for long tam w'en de Pries' say at de grav' how good woman she be.

'Bout tree wick after she gone an' de girl dey go to de convent for be nun, dare come from Montreal wan woman to pass de summer by de lake. She be a 'Croquette'-wat you call dat? wan dos woman w'ich haf 'bout demi-dozen heart to give away. Her nam it was Marie Gobeille, anyway dat be de nam' she write on de book at de 'Chateau Le Belle.' Jean he go meet 'er at de depot, but ev❜hybody say it was fonny ting he know she be comin'. Well Tam he pass by an' Jean mak' love to Marie so de people

« PreviousContinue »