192 



THE AMERICAN BEE-KEEPER. 



July 



UP HILL. 



Does the road wind up hill all the way? 



YfS, to the vQvy end. 

 Will th(! day's journey takh CLfi whole long 

 day? 



From mom to night, my friend. 



But is there for the night a resting place, 

 A roof for when the slow, dark hours begin? 



May not the darkness hide it froni my face? 

 You cannot miss that inn. 



Shall I meet other wayfarers at night, 



Those who have gone before? 

 Then must I knock or call when just in sight? 



They will not keep you standing at the door. 



Shall I find comfort, travel sore and weak? 



Of labor you shall find the sum. 

 Will there bo beds for me and all who seek? 



Yes, beds for all who come. 



— New York Ledger. 



THE YOUNG SEIGNEUR 



His chief occupation in the daytime 

 was to stand on the bench by the small 

 barred window and watch the pigeons 

 on the roof and in the eaves of the hos- 

 pital opposite. For five years he had 

 done this, and it was the one thing in 

 his whole life during that time which 

 had a charm for him. Every change of 

 weather and season was registered there 

 as plainly as if he could see the. surface 

 of the world. In the summer the slates 

 seemed to have a great fire beneath 

 them, for a quivering hot air rose up 

 from tbem, and the pigeons never alight- 

 ed ou them save in the early morning or 

 in the evening. Just over the peak of 

 the roof could be seen the topmost 

 branch of an oak, too slight to bear the 

 weight of the pigeons, but the eaves un- 

 der the projecting roof were dark and 

 cool, and there his eyes rested when he 

 tired of the hard blue sky and the glare 

 of the roof. He could also see the top of 

 the hospital windows, barred up and 

 down, but never anything within, for 

 the windows were ever dusty, and all 

 was dark bc.vond. But now and then he 

 heard bitter cries coming through one 

 open window in the summer time, and 

 he listened to them grow fainter and 

 fainter, till they sank to a low moan- 

 ing and then ceased altogether. 



In winter the roof was covered for 

 months by a blanket of snow, which 



looked iiKe a shawl of impactea wooi, 

 white and restful, and the hospital win- 

 dows were spread with frost. But the 

 pigeons were the same — almost as gay 

 and walking on the ledges of the roof 

 or crowding on the shelves of the lead 

 pipes. He studied them much, but he 

 loved them more. His prison was less a 

 prison because of them, and in the long 

 five years of expiation he found himself 

 more in touch with them than with the 

 wardens of the prison or any of his com- 

 panions. 



With the former he was respectful, 

 and he gave them no trouble at all. 

 With the latter he had nothing in com- 

 mon, for they were criminals, and he — 

 he had blundered when wild and mad 

 with drink, so wild and mad that he 

 had no remembrance, absolutely none, 

 of the incident by which Jean Vigot 

 lost his life. He remembered that they 

 had played cards far into the night; 

 that they had quarreled, then made 

 their peace again; that the others had 

 left; that they had begun playing cards 

 and drinking again, and then all was 

 blurred, save for a vague recollection 

 that he had won all the money Vigot 

 had and had pocketed it. Then came a 

 blank. He waked to find two officers of 

 the law beside him, and the body of 

 Jean Vigot, stark and dreadful, a few 

 feet away 



When the officer put their hands upon 

 him, he shook them oil. When they 

 did it again, he would have fought them 

 to the death had it not been for his 

 friend, tall Medallion, who laid a 

 strong hand on his arm and said, 

 "Steady, Converse, steady!" and he had 

 yielded to the firm, friendly pressure. 



Medallion had left no stone unturned 

 to clear him at the trial, had himself 

 played detective unceasingly, but the 

 hard facts remained there, and on a 

 chain of circumstantial evidence Louis 

 Converse, the young seigneur, was sent 

 to prison for ten years for manslaugh- 

 ter. That was the compromise eflfected. 

 Louis himself had said only that he 

 didn't remember, but he could not be- 

 lieve lie had committed the crime. Rob- 

 bery? Ho shrugged his shoulders at 

 that. He insisted that his lawyer should 

 not reply to the insulting and foolish 

 suggestion. 



But the evidence had shown that 

 Viaot had all the winnines when the 



