LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXII, Issue 1956, 1 June 1880, Page 3

LITERATURE.

poor: "rooer."

(C'oUaluded.)

The cure had reached them by this time, and he stopped when he saw * Roger.' Joseph palled off his hat and made a low bow

' I ask pardoD, reverend sir,' he said, ' but will you of your charity teli ; me what day of the month it is, and also what is tie best medicine for the cough of a bear ! Do not fear my ' Roger,' Monsieur le Cure '—for the cure had shrunk back. "'Roger' is an excellent beast, who will harm no one—see how he suffers "

At this moment the poor bear hal go vioVnt a fit of coughing that he sank down and lay panting on the ground. Tne cure looked compassionate ; he lnd a mild, pnk face, his hair was snow whiti. but his eyea were blue and full of tenderness.

' .Poor beast' —he had quite forgotten hia ffar in his pity for ' rioger'—"how ho suffers ! This is sad for him, and for yon, my good friend. Are you far from home?'

'Yes, yes, monsieur,' paid Joseph ; 'I do not know how many leagues away. Our home is on the banks of the laere.'

The good priest lifted up his hand in wonder.

'And have you come all that way afoot—in such hot weather, too?' He took off his hat, and wiped his face with a large blue checked pooket-handkerchief. ' Ah, sir, we must travel afoot. No driver would carry ' Roger.' I can get no shelter for him.' And poor Joseph bad to wipg away his tears with the sleeve of his blouse ; then, seeing that the cure was still listening, he went on. ' But it is long since we left our country, sir. I think it was in March, for we found snow on the gronnd as we came northward, though in our country we had only seen it on the mountain tops. We have wandered in Auvergne and in Burgundy, in Touraine and in Normandy. Ah, sir, we fared better everywhere than in this country, where it always rains. Bat for my poor ' Roger's ' illness we had begun our journey home.'

The old cure shook his head. ' Your poor bear cannot travel,' he said. ' I fear hU journeys are over, poor fellow. Is it posBibln that you have been travelling on foot from March till now ? Why, we are in S-p tember, my poor man. How homesick you must hi 1'

Joseph wiped his eye again, for the cure's kind words called up vividly the memory of his wife Liline, and his dear little boy Pierrot Ah! should he ever see them again, and how could he go back to theTri without 'Roger?' He forgot the cure—everything but his dear, dumb, suffering friend - and flinging himself on the ground beude ' Roger,' he flung both arms around him and sobbed aloud.

' Roger' raised one paw, and laid it gently on his master, and then he feebly tried to lick the sleeve of his coat

The cure took out his handkerchief again, and vigorously blew his nose.

* This is moat unfortunate,'he said. Then, nodding to Joseph, he said, * wait here for me, my poor friend,' and then he hurried b»ck to the presbytery aa fast as his thiu legs could carry him. Much against her will he persuaded his house-keeper to give up a disused cowhouse to Joseph, and he set his gardener to sweep il, out, and litter down some clean straw in the corner for the sick bear. The old woman grumbled and shrugged her shoulders ; but though the cure was gentle no one could be firmer than he when right required him to assert himself; and very soon he went back to Joseph, and helped him to bring poor ' Boger' to his shelter Then the cure who, like many another country clergyman, was a good doctor, brewed a huge pot of herb tea, and when ' Roger ' had been got with some trouble to swallow this, he gave Joseph a thick horsecloth to wrap round him. Joseph sat on the gronnd beside his faithful friend. He tried to be grateful to the good cure, but his grief choked his words ; he seemed turned to stone; for he had never realised how ill 'Roger * was till he saw him sink down Jn that terrible coughing fit; and now as he looked at h?m and saw the terrible change, the glazing eyes and stiffening limbs of his old comrade, something whispjred that ' Roger ' was dying. Dying ! Just when he had got for him the comforts he had so longed to give him; just when he was taking home a sum—all ' Wogers' earnings, too—which would have saved the need of going so far from home for many a month to come! 'Oh ! my poor ' Roger ! ' He chafed the clammy paws between his hands ; but the persistent chill struck the truth into his heart. It was too late ; no earthly care, no lavishness of human tenderness, could ever more help ' Roger.' But the bear was not stupefied by the chill numbness that was spreading over his body. From time to time Joseph moved, either to draw the wrappings more closely over his sick friend or to moisten the swollen tongue with liquid, and then ' Roger's' eyes followed his master as if he could not bear to lose sight of him. He moaned frequently, and this was the only sound that broke the silence. But now, when Joseph tried to raise the bear's head, as to to make the straw pillow softer, the poor swollen tongue licked his hands. Then Joseph liebas fairly broke down. The cure and his housekeeper had both left them for the night, having put him a lamp and some supper, which the poor fellow left untasted.

He laid his cheek against 'Roger's,'and sobbed as if his heart was breaking. ' Oh, my friend, my comrade V he cried, ' thou who hast taught me so much, so many leßHons, my precious ' Roger,' of patience and of humility ! forgive me, old companion, that I did not sooner discover how serious was thy malady. Who knows—only God' —he said, reverently, ' but it may bo that if we had come this way sooner, the timely succor might have saved thee. Ah, my 'Roger,' I had planned sncb a pleasant life for thee —no more long journeys, no mora absences from home, There is money now enough to buy a bit of ground, and tools and wood, too, and I can be a carpenter the rest of my days, and grow hemp and corn, 1 Roger.''

The bear moaned and moved more restlessly than before ' Yes, yes ; I know thou sayest what is that to thee now thon art going to die ; and if there be a paradise for dumb beasts, thou wilt surely be crowned there, my * Roger.' Yes, yes ; as the goed cure said, but now my sorrow is selfish ; but I can not help it, my friend. Wbat shall I say to Pierrot, ' Koger ?' How can I comfort him for the loss of his kind friend V

At the word Pierrot the fast closing eyes open widely, and ' Roger' gives a growl of pleasure—quite a different sound from the long-drawn- out moans which have shaken his poor body. For an instant Joseph's lips part in joyful surprise. Can it be that his dear friend will recover, after all? And then the eyes close, the limbs are stretched out, and he knows that ' Koger * will never wake again. Chapter 111, Joseph's cotta«e. It wants a week to Christmas. Till now there has been no snow, the weather is crisp and bracing in the north, and even beside the Isere it ;s. far less mild than u has been. On the sunny side of a lovely valley a little boy was standing at the door of a small cottage wreathed within an overgrowth of brown vine branches ; within a fence a little cabbage garden was bordered white and red with tulips and narcissus; but the ground looked neglected ; it seems as if the flowers had come of themselves, so irregularly were they planted. Fields of growing corn and other prodnco were everv - where in the fertile valley, and abovo these rose dark woods and lofty Alpine crags, high above the river ; beside the cottage door sat an ugly brown mongrel, giving impatient looks at its little master. • Mother'—the boy's face turned to the cottago door, so that one only s»w a head of curly gold as the sun shone on it—'mother, will father ever come ? I look for him every day since Michaelmas.' Inside the low-roofed cottage a pale young ' woman, much wrapped in a shawl, sat rocking a little cradle. ' Yes, yes, Pierrot; your father will come. Yon must look for him every day.' The little fellow clapped his hands, and turned such a merry facet —short and broad, like hia sturdy little body, with bright laughing blue eyea, a pair •§ roguish red

1 lips, and s turn up nose. It seemed as if ho | had stood in the sun to ripen, for he had a skin like a golden pippin. ' Mother'—ho had been running a short rice with the cgly brown mongrel since his , mother ep':ke 'how sjon will baby run rac«s with me ; he'a n t much use now." He gave a discontented look toward the cradle. Then, as his mother did not answer, he cbattere-i on : ' Mo-ber, why did yen call baby Roger ? He will never be as niceas ' Roger' is. ' Bog. r' is strong, and earr£<a me oa his back, and lies d >wn when I bid him Mother, I want'Roger.' lam tad without him."

The mother's pale face flushed. She bent over the cr.idle aud kis-ed the little sleeper. She was very good and gentle, but shd was a.t cJever, and fierrot's words troubled her.

'' Roger' is a good besot, Pierrot,' she said ; • bat he is only a beast ; he can never be thy brother. Lo>k yon. my darling, this little Roger will play with yon and love jou and he will ta k to you, too, my Pie-.r,t; and,' she addoi, e.geriy, as a row thought came, 'you can do more for the little Kogsr than yon can for ths big one. B-lieve me, chi d, it is sweater to love aud care for others than to be loved one's self

'isit ?' T ierr it looked doabtfal. «WeU, I shall see ab ;ut that. Now may Igo to the -nd of the road and see if father is coming V

He came back, as he bad come so often, staling his g;>l en head; r-nt to day hiseyes were fall of tears. He so longed for his fathr, aad for the old fiieud wno had been his pl.y-feilow for so long as he could remember.

It is Christ nas T.ve, and although liline keeps a brave heart, and will never listen to her_ neighbor's doubts ani surmise*, her h»a>-t sink* as ehe thinks of Christmas Day without J seph.

Hd left; her just after Easter, and she- so longs to show him the new treasure that haa coma to her in Lis absence - her beautiful ba>Hy She has it Rogrr; for she thhki (hit it will pease her husband, and Lilii e never thinks about her own choice in, anything.

She has not so many household carea for to-morrow festival as an English mother would have. Christmas is to Liline the birth 'ay of the Lord, and therefore the special festival of ail little children ; and her chief care has been to sew a new coat for Pierrot, and *o make him a bright red flannel cap, whioh suits his golden cuds rarely. She is trying this on, while Pierrot fi Igets under her thin finders.

' Mother! mother Ibe quick ! ' the sturdy rosy fellow says as he looks impatiently through the tangle of yellow curls ; ' this is jost wheu I always go up r-ai to where father said I was to look for him ; an i suppose he came and did not find me ? *

They had b >th been too basy to look towards the door; but now a deep voice that had a nob in it said : * And he is come-'

And there wa3 Joseph Labas, with tears in his eyes, and * radiant smile on his lips, ai he c asped wife and child together in his arms. He did not see the cradle, and Li'lae'spile face filled him with dismay. But he Btood there silent, holding her to his heart. 'And 'Roger.' father, where have you put ' Roger ? * Pierrot was tugging impatiently at his father's blouse.

Tears swam in Joseph's eyes. He stooped and took his little eon in his arms.

'' f-oger' is dead,' he said gravely ; * and I nearly died, too. Yes, my .Liline, I never thought to see thse again. But for that thou thou wouldst have seen me long ago. Ah ! well mayest thou weep! f. r Liline had began to cry, and Pierrot flung himself on the floor, howling at fiis father's news. *lt has well-nigh broken my heart, dear wife, to lose my dear old comrade.' I iline looked at her husband, and when 6he saw the tears rolling down his cheeks—saw, too, how worn and Hsd hia face was—she wiped her eyes and smiled, as she bent down to the cradle.

'Be comforted, dear husband,' she said, as she put the so't roll of flannel into his arms. ' God has sent you another Roger this Christmas tide.'