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Thomas MacClarren and his white pony excitement he tip-toed into the study, failed to appear. Heads were shaken where the Curé was reading his mid-day dubiously and tongues wagged wildly. office, and coughed tentatively. The

François, who had always hated “ce old priest looked up from his breviary. vieux MacClarren,” was inwardly de- “Eh bien François,” he said, “what lighted with the new turn of affairs. is it?" Could it be possible that the old guardian François smiled happily. “Monsieur

“ would never return to the presbytère ? le Gardien has a fluxion de poitrine,” he All Sunday long he hugged the thought answered. “Doctor Duchesne has just to his jealous heart, and, finally, on Mon- left for Baie des Rochers.” day morning, convinced of his probabil- " What dost thou tell me?” said the ity, vowed six candles to Sainte Anne Curé, sitting up very straight, his face de Beaupré. A household errand at lined with sudden anxiety. Coutourière's shop took him at noon "I said," repeated François, "that past Duchesne's house.

Monsieur le Gardien has a fluxion de The doctor's planche and chestnut poitrine ; moves not fro

his bed ; gelding stood before the door; the the storm last week was too much for horse's golden coat gleamed with much him, after all !” brushing, the harness and trap were spot- The old priest closed his breviary less. Looking through the shop window with a snap and rose to his feet. “ FranFrançois saw the doctor busily placing çois,” he said excitedly, "harness Coq bottles and packages in the little black at once; we drive to Baie des Rochers.” bag which was his badge of office. He "But, Monsieur," exclaimed François, paused a moment, hesitating to interrupt consider! It is eight miles to Baie des and still unwilling to pass by without a Rochers. Monsieur has had no dinner! word.

Coq has had no oats.” The doctor bustled out of his shop, The Curé snapped his long fingers. smiling and genial. Bon jour, bon François had never seen him so roused. jour," he said. He seemed to be in the “Discuss not,” he said ; “ do as thou best of humors.

art told." “You are in a great hurry, Monsieur The old servant hurried away, shaking le Docteur ?" asked François apologeti- his head and muttering, Bonne Sainte cally.

Anne priez pour nous ! It is as I said, “ That is it, my friend,” returned the the heretic has bewitched him.” doctor, as he placed his bag under the Thus it happened that half an hour seat of the planche and took the reins after the doctor's shining planche and from his son's hands. “I have just had sleek horse had mounted the steep hill news that Monsieur le Gardien is ill, the leading to the main road, the Cure's result of a cold caught in last Saturday's much humbler calêche and pony toiled storm. He has sent for me, and I must up the same rutty track. lose no time. A fluxion de poitrine, when The Curé sat well forward on the one is no longer young, is serious.” hard cushions, his head thrust forward,

He jerked the reins, and the young a clenched hand on each knee, his usuhorse, so encouraged, trotted briskly up ally calm brow furrowed with anxiety. the village street.

François from his narrow driver's perch Old François shaded his weak eyes tugged at the reins, and the little bay with one hand and looked for a moment horse, with lowered head and taut musafter the dust-enveloped vehicle.

cles, dug his hoofs firmly into the rough Dame,” he murmured, as he hob- road. bled on to Coutourière's shop, “why On an ordinary occasion the view of does Monsieur le Docteur occupy him- the surrounding country, the broad ripself with such matters ? Can he not see pling St. Lawrence, the bold cliffs, the it is a judgment of God ?”

rolling hills, would have charmed MonFrançois, however, was unprepared sieur le Ferrière, for he was a man pecufor the manner in which the Curé re- liarly sensitive to the beauties of nature, ceived the news. Bubbling over with but to-day his heart was so full of the

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desire to reach the little settlement at Duchesne had fared forth that mornBaie des Rochers that he saw nothing ing with colors flying to meet ignominbeyond the pattern of the oil-cloth on ious shipwreck. Stripped of his pride,

. the bottom of the calệc he and François' he clung to his professional dignity jolting, gray shoulders.

like a drowning sailor to a splintered The red calêche bumped along the spar. rutty high way, past farm-house, stream “ Monsieur le Curé," he said, pompand wood, up and down hills; and the ously, “I assure you there is no danger. Curé, in his worn soutane, his old straw Your friend has without doubt been imhat pushed back from his forehead, com- prudent and he is not young,

.

You will plained of the slowness of the pace. find him perhaps in a bad humor, but “ Coq is growing old,” he exclaimed im- with care he will soon be well.” patiently.

The Curé gave a gasp of relief, and François glanced reproachfully over lifting his soutane with either hand, sped his shoulder. “Young or old,” he said down the road. He hardly stopped to loyally, “there is not a horse of such return the greeting of MacClarren's untalent in the whole parish.”

married daughter, who in neat black and At last they reached Alfredes Harvey's mob cap, stood on the threshold of the farm, from which point the traveler gets old Scotchman's house. He pushed his first glimpse of Baie des Rochers; a past her and burst into the little sitting long, low peninsula running out into the room, which was MacClarren's particuSt. Lawrence, a hundred feet below the lar domain. The long narrow room with main road, on the clills. A tiny river on its bright red carpet, its badly framed the left forms a rocky miniature harbor, engravings of Knox and Burns, its rough guarded from the northern wind by a bold bookcase's motley array of cheap bindjutting promontory. Waving willows ings, was familiar grourd to the Curé. surround the MacClarren homestead, a Here he had spent many a controversial white, rambling building, with moss- evening when parochial or fishing exgrown roof; while close, as if for needed peditions had led him far from St. Fidèle. support, crowd the newer houses of sons The door of the little adjoining bedrooni and grandsons. Far to the right, in the was closed; he pushed it gently until it midst of green fields, fronting the broad swung open on its worn hinges and river and the sunrise, stands the little stepped across the threshold. wooden kirk, the only Protestant place

In his wooden bed, propped among of worship in the wide parish of St. the pillows, his faded plaid across his Fidèle.

knees, lay old Thomas MacClarren, François pointed a gnarled finger breathing hoarsely. His cheeks were down ward. “There they are, Monsieur," Aushed, his eyes flashing. he said, indignantly, “ the houses of the Thomas,” pleaded the Cure, as he heretics. C'est choquant."

stood at the foot of the bed, “ art thou But the reproach fell on deaf ears. still angry?" Monsieur le Ferrière glanced affection- Old MacClarren pushed back the white ately at the white buildings, the green hair from his forehead with trembling fields, the brave little church.

His voice was petulant. go down quickly," he said.

Seigneur,” he exclaimed, “ am I to As the calệche swung into the grass have no peace; first that rascal Du'road which led to the old house, the chesne, and now thee.

A sick man doctor's planche turned out of the stable. needs rest.” The doctor held the reins, his brow was But the Curé was not to be rebuffed. lined, his mouth set. The two horses " Art thou still angry?" he persisted, on the single track halted nose to nose. · Why not,” returned the Scotchman Monsieur le Ferrière sprang like a boy to obstinately, “ have we not dreamed of the ground.

such a chance for twenty long years, you “Doctor Duchesne,” he asked, eagerly, and I ?” His face became tense and " is Monsieur MacClarren very ill ? Is

eager. “Dost thou remember, Jean," there any danger ?”

he said, “ how the fish rose like a flash

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A week ago

of light from behind the big rock at the “Come, Thomas,” continued the Curé, foot of the falls ? * Six pounds ’we said “have you not punished me enough. I when we saw him, the biggest trout in have been very lonely." the Bon Desir. Dost thou remember The Scotchman hesitated. “ It is true how he ran out my line, how my rod I was angry with thee,” he said slowly, bent?” Then suddenly the light went "and said perhaps too much, but is that out of the old man's eyes, his mouth shut a reason that thou shouldst turn thy with a snap.“ Jean, Jean,” he muttered back on me and close thy door in my with an almost tragic break in his voice, face ?” “I thought thee a fisherman, but “I turn my back on thee! I close schoolboy could have handled the net my door in thy face !” exclaimed the better !”

Curé. For a moment the Curé was silent; MacClarren gave a bitter little laugh, his hands behind his back clenched and the slight had cut deeper than he was unclenched. He was eager for peace, willing to admit. My eyes may miss but the irascible guardian was pressing a weak place in a casting line,” he said, him hard. “I did my best,” he said “but I am not yet blind. finally in dangerously even tones. “I Saturday,” he continued, “when I passed warned thee it was an impossible place the presbytère eager to see thee, to talk to land a half played fish, besides the matters over, thou wert in the garden, casting line was weak.”

but as I rode up the street Lavoie from “Half played fish,” retorted MacClar- the doorway warned thee of my coming ren sharply, raising himself in the bed, and I saw thee turn and walk into thy “the trout was gasping and on its side. house." Why not admit it was all thy fault ?" A week ago Saturday !" mused the

The Curé's eyes flashed fire. “Because priest, “I was in the garden !” Then it was not,” he said shortly.

his lined face became gravely tender. The two old men glared at each other. “I remember,” he said gently. “ No, There was no sound in the little room Thomas, Lavoie did not tell me of thy beyond the Scotchman's labored breath- coming but of Elizabeth Tremblay's ing and the ticking of the eight-day going. How could I take pleasure in

clock. Then without a word the Curé the flowers when one of my children had shrugged his shoulders and turned on gone on her last journey and I had not his heel. The quick angry movement given her the Bon Dieu.

I went to my swept his swaying soutane into a dusty books because my heart was heavy. No corner and brought a fishing-rod clatter- Thomas, I did not see thee. All morning to the floor. The Curé frowned as ing long I waited for thee, and when he stooped down, his fingers closed on François told me thou hadst ridden by the familiar canvas

Old Mac- I could not understand.

I could not understand. To quarrel for Clarren from his pillows watched him the sake of a few angry words was not eagerly. The priest straightened himself like thee.” slowly, his face cleared, and a smile stole MacClarren's face was a curious mixinto his eyes.

The Curé had sacrificed ture of embarrassment and happiness. his pride to his affection. He turned “ We Scotchmen are obstinate fools,” he to the bed and held the canvas-covered muttered, and then irrelevantly and with rod towards MacClarren.

evident effort, “perhaps I did hurry the “ There are too many memories here, fish.” Thomas,” he said, “days of sunshine The Curé's faded eyes brimmed with and cloud, of good luck and bad, of rip- laughter. “ Obstinate fools make good pling water and green swaying trees. friends,” he said softly, stretching out a Thou art right. I was clumsy. I did hand. MacClarren caught it eagerly. lose the fish.”

“ The salmon are running,” exclaimed This

unlooked-for surrender. the priest, “and we have wasted more MacClarren gave a little gasp of shamed than a week! Quelle bêtise !!" surprise.

must sometimes MacClarren's laugh ended in a paroxspeak his mind,” he muttered awkwardly. ysm of coughing. The old man bent

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almost double, his face grew crimson and “What didst thou say?" asked the beads of perspiration stood out on his Curé, boyishly eager, knitting his white, white forehead.

overhanging brows. A line of worry showed between the MacClarren shook his head, his lips Curé's eyes.

“ Thou art feverish,” he beneath his white beard curled humorspoke anxiously, "I like not thy cough! ously. “ Jean, mon ami,he said, touchWhat did Duchesne say to thee?" ing the Curé's black sleeve affectionately,

The sick man lay back among his pil- “ I will not tell thee. I do not love the lows, his breath was short. “ Duchesne doctor and perhaps I was not quite myis a pompous fool,” he said. “I myself self, for I too have been lonely. One could have told my daughter that I have thing I know, a good Presbyterian should a cold, that I am old, that I must be not have said it and a priest of the true careful.”

church may not hear it !” Is that all he said ?" persisted the The two old men looked into each Curé. He was labored by the old other's eyes, the memory of the past days Scotchman's labored breathing.

was blotted out; they threw back their “If thou must know,” said MacClar- heads and laughed like children. ren shortly, his eyes snapping," he had François sitting outside in the red the impudence to sympathize with me; calêche, watching old Coq crop a belated he thought thee responsible for my ill- dinner, shook his head as he heard the ness; I should not, he said, have ridden laughter. from St. Fidèle in the storm and if the Bewitched,” he said, “ bewitched.” presbytère was, as he feared, closed to He crossed himself hurriedly and me, he begged that hereafter I consider glared at the little brown kirk just visible his house and stable as my own.”

beyond the waving tree tops.

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T

POOR IRELAND'
HE traditional stage Irishman is because of the general agricultural op-

a ridiculous figure. Yet he pression and depression, because of

seems to have established the unsanitary dwellings and insufficient present general estimate of his race. food. As to drink, contrary to the genHe certainly does not remind us of eral supposition, the Irishman spends a those austere pioneers who kept alive less average on it than does the Engthe spark of Christianity in Ireland and lishman or Scot; moreover, the Irishman who kept art and learning from being spends more on beer than on spirits, overborne by the blight which had settled the contrary being true of the Scot. over the rest of Europe. Nor, coming Furthermore, and even more surprising to our own time, does “ Paddy” recall to many, statistics show the Irish to be the great soldiers and statesmen with less criminally inclined than are the whom Ireland has strengthened the inhabitants of Great Britain ; in particBritish Empire. The accepted Irish ular, as to sexual morality, the stranger type of the masses may be amusing, but in Ireland is invariably surprised by the he smacks also of indolence, thriftless rectitude of the people. ness, a tendency to drink, and even a In 1841 Ireland's population was lack of certain primary virtues.

estimated at 8,100,000; in 1901, at Fortunately, these failings are not 4,400,00.

4,400,00. Thus, in sixty years the popcharacteristic of the Irish people as a ulation fell by nearly four millions. whole. In every quarter of the globe America has won what Ireland has lost. Irish men and women have shown them- But this is not all. Quality as well as selves hard workers; if they have not quantity is involved. The emigrants displayed the same energy at home it is have generally been in life's full vigor;

most of those who have remained have The Outlook in Ireland. By the Right Honorable the Earl of Dunraven, K.P. E. P. Dutton & Co.,

been physically, mentally, and indusNew York. $3, net.

trially deficient. Meanwhile, the burden

of taxation has enormously increased. enced by opposition, both clerical and Is it surprising, then, that, with the ex- lay, Mr. Redmond rejected the measure. ception of France, Ireland's birth-rate It would have meant to his starving conshould be now the lowest in the world ? stituents at least half a loaf. He de.

Unless remedial measures are under- manded the whole and lost all—at least taken Ireland must continue downward. for the present parliamentary session. It is true that two noble laws, passed As has been well said, moderation is not within a decade, have brought relief- melodramatic. The present Irish reprethe Local Government and Land Acts. sentatives in Parliament have seemed to The first conceded to the Irish the right distinguish themselves in the realm of of self-government in purely local affairs. melodrama only. Until 1898 Grand Juries had managed In their mortification at the Irish attithose affairs; thereafter District and tude and the consequent withdrawal of County Councils, democratic bodies, took the measure, Mr. Birrell and the Liberal their place. The Councils have done leaders have had the sympathy of many their work well and have had distinct Conservatives and Unionists, among educational value in the people's respon- them the Earl of Dunraven, a great Irish sibility, knowledge, and appreciation as landlord and perhaps the principal force related to the art of government. The behind the Land Act of 1903. SpeakLand Act provided a way for tenants to ing of the policy of the party now in become proprietors and removed the power, Lord Dunraven said: “I greatly prime cause of friction between the two rejoice, for policy is more important than classes. But the money devoted to this party in my eyes. With all my heart I benefaction will not alone regenerate wish them Godspeed in it.” Lord DunIreland. The people need instruction raven's just published book, " The Outin modern agricultural and industrial look in Ireland," constitutes perhaps the methods. These in turn will only par- strongest argument yet put forth for the tially succeed unless stimulated by the passage of some such measure as Mr. Irishman's consciousness of a

Birrell's, conferring on the Irish sufficient active participation in his country's and efficient control of local government. affairs, economic and administrative. Despite the amazing tactics of Mr. Red

This increase of power is demanded, mond, such a bill must ultimately be first of all, by the Irish Nationalists, passed-if the Liberals cannot, perhaps

, — whose idea of Home Rule carries with a coalition government of Conservatives it complete independence and separation and Liberal Unionists may, repeating from England ; second by those English their successes of 1898 and 1903. Liberals who subscribe to the Gladstone Those who resist the proposed reform programme of practical but not quite should read Lord Dunraven's plea. As complete separation; third, by many he says, the only occasion when the well-wishers, Liberal and Conservative, right of free government was strenuously who would give to the Irish the fullest denied to a portion of the British Empossible management of their own affairs. pire was followed by a revolt culminating

Such management was, in the judg- in the formation of the United States of ment of many friends of Ireland, assured America. The lesson taught by the reby the bill recently proposed in the House bellion of the American colonies has of Commons by Mr. Augustine Birrell, had powerful influence for good, as the well-known author of “Obiter Dicta” Lord Dunraven easily shows; for the and other books of essays, who is Chief British Empire affords plenty of testiSecretary for Ireland in the present Lib- mony to that influence and to the beneeral Cabinet. Mr. Birrell's statesman- fits of free institutions. like measure was not at once rejected by The story of the British Empire is Mr. Redmond, the leader in Parliament the record of political devolution, or the of the Irish Nationalists, who had been derivation of various amounts of selfconsulted during the various stages of governing powers from the sovereign the bill's preparation. But in the later Parliament by the communities forming Nationalist conclave in Dublin, influ- the Empire. As our author truly affirms,

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