ittk Folk of Brittany THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF NORTH CAROLINA From the Library of BENNEHAN CAMERON 1854-1925 Presented by his daughters Isabel C. Van Lennep and Sally C. Labouisse "^"SITY OF N.C AT CHAPEL HILL 0002224573 •<&s Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2012 with funding from University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill http://www.archive.org/details/littlefolkofbritOOhain LITTLE FOLK OF BRITTANY IsR COPVRtCHl [905, B\ I'". A. ST' IKES 1. ' ', LITTLE FOLK OF BRITTANY B Y ALICE CALHOUN HAINES WITH FULL PAGE COLOR PLATES AFTER PAINTINGS BY ANITA LEROY AND NUMEROUS OTHER ILLUSTRATIONS IN BLACK AND WHITE BY ESTHER A. HUNT FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY, Publishers NEW YORK Copyright, 1907, By FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY Published September, 1907 The University Press, Cambridge, U. S. A. CONTENTS PAGE Market Day g The Little White Dove . u Two Songs 20 Blue Hives or Pink? 21 Lament of the Little Orphans 30 The Three Gifts of the Three Beggars 31 Fishermen's Children 40 The Vow of Marie-Ange . 41 ILLUSTRATIONS PAGE Coming from School Frontispiece Market Day 10 " I have my doll with me," explained Catherine happily 15 Two Songs ig Going to Mass Facing 21 The First Communion 23 Little Orphans . . 29 Wash Day Facing 31 Julie Spinning 34 Fishermen's Children 39 Skipping Rope . .' Facing 41 Francois 45 MARKET DAY TO market ! to market ! a cabbage we '11 buy, Eggs, butter, a fowl, if the price is not high ; For me a bright kerchief, a breastpin for you, A locket of silver, a song for a sou ! Make ready the baskets, your best cap put on, The sun climbs the heavens, 'tis time to be gone! The lane 's full of people with cartloads of stuff, Red apples, ripe cherries — there's still time enough! "Good-day, my good Jehan ! What makes you so slow?" " I 'm driving a piggy, and piggy won't go." " Here comes pretty Annik, she '11 help you along. Trade your pig for her cow with the bow on its horn ! " The Square 's all abustle — at last we are here ! " No, no, Auntie Barba ! Your eggs are too dear." How bright are the dresses ! How busy the throng ! Come, let us start buying — we can't stop too long. Good bargains ! good bargains ! a song for a sou ! For me this blue kerchief, that breastpin for you. Though our baskets are heavy, our heels still are light; We 've spent all our money ; at last falls the night. To the sound of the bagpipes we '11 swing to and fro, Marking time as we dance in our wooden sabots ! One last glass of cider! Come, come, let's be gone. The full moon is rising. The market is done. MARKET DAY THE LITTLE WHITE DOVE TWO little girls were walking one afternoon down one of the quaint cobbled streets of the old city of Quimper. They looked very happy because they were on the way from school for the last time that year. Lessons were over, vacation had begun. "I can hardly believe it, Catherine," cried the more smiling of the two. " To-morrow old Jehan will corns to take me home ! " " It must be very pleasant to live on a farm," admitted Catherine, " and go home every summer for the vacation. But your aunt will be sorry to say good-bye to you, Jeanneton, and so shall we all." " I shall be sorry to say good-bye to you, too," answered Jeanneton. "You have been very good to me, and helped me so often with my geography, but at home on the farm are my sister and my little cow ! How many times this winter when the wind has blown at night have I lain awake and thought of them and cried ! That was very stupid, no doubt, but it is hard to care about the capital of China when one is parted from those one loves." " Well, you need not trouble with it any more," answered Catherine. " This afternoon we can shut up our books and forget everything we have ever learned. But I hope you will not forget me, Jeanneton, once you are happy down there on your father's farm." " Indeed I will not, dear Catherine," promised Jeanneton. "And I only wish that you were going to come to visit me ! " Then the two children kissed each other, and Jeanneton hurried on to the pretty little gabled house where she had been spending the winter with her aunt. For there were many things to be done. She must help pack her little chest, and lay out the clothes she was to wear the following day. Oh, it seemed too good to be true ! Yet next morning, sure enough, came old Jehan, rattling over the cobbles in his queer hooded cart. You could not see very much of him, because he was a thin little man, and he wore a great hat with flapping brims, and a checked farmer's coat that was much too large and loose for his shrunken person. But Jeanneton knew just how glad he was to come for her, though the only way he showed it was by a grunt. So her little chest was tossed up behind, she kissed her aunt, waved good-bye to Catherine and the other children who were gathered in the street to see her off — and away they started ! At first they drove through the city and down past the quays, with gay shops on either side the way, and even after the walls of Quimper were 12 THE LITTLE WHITE DOVE well passed and they had begun to climb the hill, Jeanneton could see the two graceful spires of the Cathedral whenever she turned about, till all at once the trees grew so thick there was no use looking back. Birds were singing overhead, the air was full of the fragrance of violets, and there were so many questions to ask Jehan. " How is my little cow ? " began Jeanneton. " She is well," answered Jehan. "And how is my sister?" "Well, also," Jehan answered. "And my father?" " He is well ; but he had better mind his dovecot." "Why should he mind the dovecot?" Jeanneton wanted to know. " Because of Monsieur Louis," answered Jehan with a chuckle. " That boy hangs around too much. I happen to guess that he wants to steal a little white dove out of your father's dovecot." " Monsieur Louis would not steal anything ! " cried Jeanneton. " What foolishness! He has plenty of pigeons of his own." And at that moment they came to the top of the hill, and Jeanneton saw the smoke rising from her father's chimney above the treetops, just as she had known that she would. Oh ! It was very pleasant to come home from school. Everybody said that Jeanneton had grown so much that they would not know her, but the dogs knew her, all the same, and licked her hands and whined. And there were so many old friends to be visited ! The bees in their straw houses at the back of the barn, the beautiful pigeons in the poultry-yard. How stupid of old Jehan to say — And yet every afternoon when Margot and Jeanneton were sent to bring home the cows — Margot was Jeanneton's sister, such a pretty girl! — there was Monsieur Louis waiting in the meadow down below. " Good evening, Mesdemoiselles," he would begin, taking off his hat. "Are you looking for your cows? May I not walk with you? Perhaps they have strayed a long way — the stupid beasts ! " " Thank you, Monsieur," Margot would answer, blushing. " You are very kind, for it is already growing late." Yet they never hurried. So Jeanneton wondered ; but all the same she did not think it could be true that Monsieur Louis wished to steal a dove out of her father's dove- cot. For he was the son of the richest farmer in the neighborhood, and very polite and kind to everybody. At last, one evening while Jeanneton was looking in the thicket for her little cow, Monsieur Louis gave a ring to Margot. He must have given it to her, — for there it was shining on her finger when Jeanneton came back, and she half laughing, half crying, — and the next day the Tailor came to call at the farm. THE LITTLE WHITE DOVE 13 Such a funny man as the Tailor was ! He had red hair, and squint eyes, and a hump on his back. " If I had met a magpie in the road, you would not find me here this afternoon," he cried, as he stood balancing himself in the doorway, a branch of blossoming broom in his hand, and when Jeanneton's mother turned about and saw him she screamed. For she knew at once that Monsieur Louis wished to marry Margot. That is what it means in the country parts of Brittany when the Tailor comes with a spray of broom in his hand to see a young girl's mother. So the father was called in. The Tailor made everybody laugh with his funny stories ; and while the three of them stood bargaining and talking, Jeanneton ran to find old Jehan. " Rascal ! " she cried. " You told me that Monsieur Louis wished to steal a dove out of my father's dovecot, and all the time it was Margot that he came to see ! " "And is not Mademoiselle a very pretty little dove?" chuckled Jehan. "They have been billing and cooing since early spring. I guessed what he was after — the sly fellow!" Then they both laughed at the joke. A wedding makes everybody so gay ! After that how many things there were to be planned for ! How many things to be done ! Peddlers knocked continually at the door. Jeanneton's father scolded, her mother coaxed. All the linen must be bleached, the cupboard beds waxed, the great chest, in which Margot's wedding clothes were to be packed, polished till it reflected like a mirror. So the days flew, till about a week later the Tailor called again. This time he wore a violet stocking on one leg, a red stocking on the other, and brought Monsieur Louis and many of his relations with him. They came to see Margot and the farm. " At least, nothing is borrowed," said Margot's mother to the grand- mother. " Everything in sight belongs to ourselves. We do not wish to appear any better off than we really are, which cannot be said of everybody on such occasions ! " Then she crossed to the handsome carved cupboard and opened the door just a crack, so that one could catch sight of the great piles of white linen heaped inside. The fattest quarters of bacon hung from the beams of the ceiling, the finest silver was set out on the table. Who could have helped feeling just a little proud ? Even the horses in the barn had ribbons in their ears, and stood before mangers full of clover. Naturally, Monsieur Louis' relations were very much pleased. They visited the orchards and the fields, they said what a fine fellow Monsieur Louis had always been. Then his father shook hands with Margot's father ; and since no objection could be made to the wedding, it was time to think who ought to be invited. 14 THE LITTLE WHITE DOVE "Dear Margot," said Jeanneton to her sister that evening, "you are so happy remembering all the friends you are going to ask, may I not have one of mine? " " Whom do you wish to invite, little one ? " returned Margot, kindly. " A little girl named Catherine Guern," answered Jeanneton. " She lives in the same street with my aunt in Quimper. Last winter she helped me study geography. If it had not been for her, I should never have known about the capital of China." "Since that is the case we must have her by all means," answered Margot, laughing. So it was settled, and a few days later, when Jeanneton's aunt came on for the wedding, she brought Catherine with her. How happy the two children were to be together again ! " I have my doll with me," explained Catherine, happily. " She has never been to a wedding before, and neither have I. Oh, Jeanneton, it was so good of you to ask us ! " " Indeed it was not," answered Jeanneton. " I have always wanted you to come and see me — and this is such a pleasant time ! " The next day was the day of the wedding. Jeanneton and Catherine were up before the sun to help dress the bride. If you could have seen Margot when that toilet was finished ! This is what she wore : a charm- ing cap of white batiste with a crown of roses tied with a great red bow ; a collarette of heavy lace ; a violet corsage trimmed with gold and silver braid, the sleeves of which were bright red, and the under-sleeves white, ending in little cuffs of lace ; a violet skirt, a yellow watered-silk apron, red stockings, black velvet slippers, a gold cross, and a great bouquet of roses. Nobody could have looked prettier ! Then Jeanneton, her mother, and her grandmother hurried into their best clothes, too ; for each was to have her part in the ceremony. They got in one another's way. They laughed, they scolded, they cried. Catherine was as much excited as the others. Suddenly horses' hoofs were heard in the courtyard. The wedding guests were beginning to arrive ! What happened next? How can I ever tell you? It was all so charm- ing, so childlike, so gay ! — quite like a game, except that everybody was very much in earnest. Monsieur Louis, his Tailor, and his guests had already dismounted. They took off their hats and bowed low to Margot's father, her Tailor, and her guests, who stood in the doorway to receive them. 1 "Blessings upon this house," cried Monsieur Louis' Tailor; "and more joy to those within it than I can boast of! " 1 The dialogue between the tailors is a free translation of that given in M. de La Villemarque's " Barzaz- Bveiz." "I HAVE MY DOLL WITH ME," EXPLAINED CATHERINE HAPPILY THE LITTLE WHITE DOVE 17 " What 's the matter, gossip ? " questioned Margot's Tailor, " that you should not be gay ? " "I had a little dove," replied Monsieur Louis' Tailor. "I kept it with my pigeon in the dovecot ; but, look you, the hawk swooped down and frightened my little dove away, and I do not know where she has flown." " Seems to me you are pretty well gotten up for a man in so much trouble," retorted Margot's Tailor. " You have combed your hair as if you were going to a dance ! " "Gossip, don't laugh at me," pleaded Monsieur Louis' Tailor. "Have you seen my little white dove ? There is no happiness left for me in the world unless I can find her ! " " I have not seen your little white dove, nor your pigeon, either," said Margot's Tailor. "Young man, you lie ! " Monsieur Louis' Tailor cried. " For men about here have told me that they saw my little white dove fly into your court and alight in your orchard ! " " Yet I have not seen her," Margot's Tailor repeated, quite as if he meant it. " My pigeon will die if his mate does not come back. He will die, my poor pigeon," said Monsieur Louis' Tailor. " I am going to look in the orchard." " Stop, friend ! " Margot's Tailor cried. " You must not look. I '11 go myself." Then he pretended to peep into the orchard, but soon turned about again. " I have looked in the orchard, and your little dove is not there," he said. "But there are many flowers — lilies and lilacs, and one wee wild rose which bloomed in a corner of the hedge ! " Here he leaned over and pulled Jeanneton by the hand from where she had been hiding behind her father's back. " I have plucked it for you," said he, pushing the little girl toward Monsieur Louis. " Give it to your pigeon. It will make him happy again." Monsieur Louis' Tailor laughed, and Jeanneton was, oh! so red! "A charming flower," replied the Tailor. " If my pigeon were a dewdrop he would nestle in this rose's heart. I am going into the hayloft to see if my little white dove is there ! " " No, no, gossip ! I '11 go for you ! " replied Margot's Tailor. So he hurried into the house, and came out again, leading the mother by the hand. " I have climbed into the loft," said he, " and I have not found your little white dove ; but I found this ear of wheat left over after the harvest. Put it in your hat, and be comforted." Monsieur Louis' Tailor bowed politely to Margot's mother. " If it were grain that I had come for, nothing would please me better," said he. " Now I am going into the fields." 18 THE LITTLE WHITE DOVE " Stop, my friend ! you will soil your beautiful shoes," Margot's Tailor laughed. " Let me look for you ! " And this time when he came back he brought the grandmother, who smiled and nodded at everybody. " I cannot find a dove of any kind," the Tailor explained. "But I have found an apple — this withered apple — hidden among the leaves under the tree. Put it in your pocket, and give it to your pigeon to eat. Then he will complain no more ! " "Thanks, gossip," answered Monsieur Louis' Tailor. "The apple is a good apple, and has not lost its flavor. Yet I will have nothing to do with your fruit, your flower, or your ear of wheat. What I want is my little white dove, and I 'm going myself to look for her." " Dear me ! " cried Margot's Tailor, throwing up his hands as if in despair, "then all is over! Come, friend! Come with me. Your little white dove is not lost. I have her safe within my chamber, shut up in a cage of ivory with gold and silver bars. She is waiting for you, all gay and beautiful and tame." So everybody crowded into the house, where stood the charming Margot, laughing and blushing. And as soon as Monsieur Louis entered, Margot's father gave him a horse's bridle, which he passed about the young girl's waist, and, as he buckled it, the two Tailors sang : "A charming filly wandered in a meadow, Free as the -wind -was she ; A cavalier passed down the road, his shadow Startled her suddenly. He paused beside the pasture gate to -whistle. Can he allay her fears ? Her floating mane, her tail, begin to bristle, Pricked are her pointed ears. He strokes her, whispers none than she is faster. His cunning arts "who '11 count ? Ah, ha ! the filly soon has found a master, The cavalier a mount ! Then Margot knelt down before her father and mother. They blessed her, everybody wept — even Monsieur Louis a little bit; but this did not last long, because a wedding should always be gay. Soon all was bustle and merriment again. The horses were led once more into the courtyard. Everybody hurried out. It was time to get to the church, where the good rector was waiting to perform the marriage ceremony. " Ah, ha ! Was I not right ? " chuckled old Jehan, as he tossed Jeanneton and Catherine, one after the other, into the big hooded cart. " Monsieur Louis has his little white dove ! " TWO SONGS T TWO SONGS HE little brook sings as it hurries along, In her quaint Breton cap on the bank sings Yvonne. " I 'm happy ! I 'm happy ! " the little brook sings, "All day I've been busy, done so many things! A basket of linen washed whiter than snow In the course and the force of my clear current's flow I 've filled Yvonne's pitcher, reflected her face, And yet I'm not tired — just see how I race!" " I 'm happy ! I 'm happy ! " sings little Yvonne, " All day I 've been busy, so many things done ! A basket of linen I 've scrubbed in the brook, Then filled up my pitcher, and stolen a look At my face in the waters. Now all my work 's done, And yet I 'm not tired, because it was fun ! " So the brook to the ocean all sparkling with foam, Yvonne to her mother, each singing goes home. iWk\t&ls.t COPYRIGHT, 1 905. BY F. A. STOKES CO. BLUE HIVES OR PINK? A BEE STORY GRANDFATHER BRENN was a little man, but he liked to have his own way. Grandfather Silverstik was tall, and thought that everything should be done exactly as he said. They had lived next door to each other for thirty years ; they had smoked their Sunday afternoon pipes together fifteen hundred and sixty times; and they had never quarrelled. That was quite wonderful. Jeanne-Marie and Marie-Jeanne, the little granddaughters, never quar- relled, either. As babies they had slept in the same cradle, been baptized in the same holy water, and now they were preparing together for their first Communion. Each could answer any question the other chose to ask from the Catechism ; each was having a charming white dress made for the ceremony ; each was to carry a' beautiful homemade taper of finest beeswax to the altar — and it was the bees that started all the trouble ! The hives stood in a row among the hollyhocks against the wall at the foot of the garden. There were twelve of them, little straw domes, and they had once been painted yellow, but now they were quite faded and weather- beaten. They needed to be painted again. The bees did not seem to mind this, however, for they flew humming and buzzing in dizzy circles among the blossoming honeysuckle and roses that made the little courtyard so sweet. It was June, honeytime — that was all they thought about. " Wonderful little creatures," remarked Grandfather Brenn, taking his pipe from between his lips and rapping with it cheerfully against the door on his side of the garden. " They know as much and plan as much as any Christian." "Wonderful, indeed," agreed Grandfather Silverstik. "Keep bees and learn wisdom. How many flowers do you imagine those fellows have to visit to get one drop of honey ? Well, well, they will be swarming soon." " The very weather for it," Grandfather Brenn admitted. It was after this fashion the two old men got on so beautifully. One opinion was enough for both. So neither had to give in. 22 BLUE HIVES OR PINK? Jeanne-Marie and Marie-Jeanne arranged matters the same way. This afternoon they sat side by side on a bench under the lilac bush, and played church with a number of hollyhock dolls that they had made. " This purple one is the Bishop," said Marie-Jeanne. "And these white ones are the children he is going to confirm," said Jeanne-Marie. Then she seized a leafy spray of the lilac bush and began to shake it. " Ding-dong ! ding-dong ! Those are the Cathedral bells ringing. Now let us say mass." The two grandfathers looked at the children and smiled. It was very pleasant in the garden. " What do you say to painting the hives over this season ? " proposed Grandfather Silverstik. " We will have to have some new ones, anyway. And that yellow was never the right shade." "An excellent idea," answered Grandfather Brenn. " We will paint them, and have everything in the garden fresh and bright for the children's Confirmation. Bees understand more than most people give them credit for, and have a very pretty taste in color." " Oh, Grandfathers ! " cried Marie-Jeanne and Jeanne-Marie in a breath, letting the Bishop and the Confirmation Class roll off the bench into the grass. " How charming ! What color will you paint the hives, if not yellow?" " Blue," said Grandfather Brenn. " Pink," said Grandfather Silverstik. Both spoke at the same moment. Then they stopped and glared at each other. Such a thing had never happened before. It was too bad ! But neither could give in. Reasons must be found. "I suppose you have often noticed," began Grandfather Brenn, "that a bee will visit a blue flower sooner than any other. Watch them as they fly back and forth in the borders." " Roses are blue, are they? and clover blossoms?" Grandfather Silverstik retorted. " Since we are agreed that yellow is not the right shade, let the bees themselves settle the question." " Precisely what I wish to do," replied Grandfather Brenn. "And if you are honest you will admit their choice to be — " "Pink!' 1 '' shouted Grandfather Silverstik. "Blue!" roared Grandfather Brenn. Both were red in the face. Jeanne-Marie and Marie-Jeanne had never before seen anything like it. It was almost a quarrel ! At that moment two little maidservants came to the doors of the two little shops that led out into the garden and said that supper was ready. So everybody had to go in. Grandfather Brenn, Jeanne-Marie, and her mother lived over one of the shops ; Grandfather Silverstik, Marie-Jeanne, and her mother lived over the THE FIRST COMMUNION BLUE HIVES OR PINK? 25 other. For many years it had been almost like one household, but now there was to be a difference. For the next morning both old gentlemen woke up more determined than ever. Grandfather Silverstik, among his clocks and his watches, could think of nothing but the shabby beehives, and how important it was that they should have a new coat of paint before Marie-Jeanne's Confirmation. Grandfather Brenn, stitching away on a beautiful pair of embroidered gloves in his little shop, watched the bees among the flower borders through the open doorway, and snorted angrily. It was high time they should swarm — yet who could expect it of them, under the circumstances, poor little creatures ? For in Brittany bees are supposed to take a great interest in the affairs of their masters, and to be very sensitive to any slight. For this reason one often sees the hives near a peasant's cottage decorated with red streamers in honor of some family festival. Grandfather Brenn had been brought up on a farm, and the town training of later years had not quite succeeded in doing away with his early prejudices. " Boy," said he suddenly to his apprentice, snipping off the purple thread with which he had been stitching, " take these gloves to Madame Courbon's house. They are finished ; and on your way back stop and get me a pot of light blue paint. I am going to paint the hives." " Yes, sir," said the boy, and started on the errand. As he returned some moments later, whom should he meet in the street but Grandfather Silverstik's apprentice, carrying 1 a pot of pink paint. So the hives were painted, six blue, six pink. Grandfather Brenn and Grandfather Silverstik, working each on his own side of the garden, glared angrily. When they reached the middle of the row they snorted. The little straw houses certainly looked very bright and fresh among the blossoming hollyhocks. One could not tell which color was the prettier ; but it was to be hoped the bees would swarm soon and decide the matter. Each old gentleman was quite sure that they would settle on his side — thus showing the color they liked best. That morning Jeanne-Marie and Marie-Jeanne had gone to the Rector's to be examined in their Catechism. Now they came running and laughing into the garden. " Oh, Grandfathers ! " cried both little girls in a breath, " how beautiful the hives look ! " " The blue, I suppose you mean," growled Grandfather Brenn. " The pink, I understand you to say," snapped Grandfather Silverstik. Then they turned upon the puzzled children. " Learn to think for your- selves," they told them. " You have been together so much that you talk like a pair of silly parrots." For by this time, however foolish the cause, it had become a real quarrel. 26 BLUE HIVES OR PINK? The following Sunday the Bishop came to town for the Confirmation. The Cathedral looked beautiful. It had been decorated with wreaths of flowers, and tinsel, and many rich offerings. A forest of candles burned upon the altar. Great numbers of peasants had come in from the country round about, and quaint caps and dresses of almost every description might be seen among the congregation. For in Brittany each town and district has its special costume, which is handed down from father to son, from mother to daughter, with never a thought of changing fashions. To-day all the little girls who were to be confirmed sat together. They wore charming white dresses and looked very lovely, but Marie- Jeanne and Jeanne-Marie were not permitted to walk up the aisle together, as they had hoped to do. For the bees still refused to swarm ! It was impossible to tell whether they preferred the pink hives or the blue, and for several days the children had been forbidden to have anything to do with each other. When the Bishop got up to preach everybody listened respectfully. He was a beautiful old man, with snow-white hair and fine white hands. He took for the text of his sermon the words : Love your neighbor. And all the time he was talking Grandfather Brenn glared at Grandfather Silverstik, and Grandfather Silverstik glared back. They had lived next door to each other so long they had quite forgotten that they "were neighbors, and besides each was very indignant to think that the other should be so stubborn and pigheaded ! " Little children, love one another," cried the old Bishop in his fine silver voice, "for, if you do not, you cannot love the good God who made you. Do not let any foolish misunderstanding — " And at that moment from some hidden corner of the crowded galleries rang out the strangled cry, "Fire! fire!" Nobody could tell just what happened next. A smell of smoke was in the air, and a growing uproar of feet and voices. For panic seized upon the throng. Men fought and struggled. Overhead the bells were ringing wildly. The sexton, at least, was faithful to his post. Then slender tongues of red and yellow flame shot out between the pillars, and a heavy, wavering brown curtain shut down before the door. Grandfather Brenn and Grandfather Silverstik, shoulder to shoulder, fought their way up the aisle. They must reach the little group of white- gowned girls above which the figure of the Bishop might be seen, standing with hands stretched out as if in blessing. And somehow they did it. But now it would be impossible to get back. "Try the little green door that leads out into the garden!" shouted Grandfather Brenn. It was locked ; but Grandfather Silverstik burst it open with one heave of his strong shoulders. And a few moments later BLUE HIVES OR PINK? 27 the three old men, with their fluttering frightened flock, found themselves breathing the pure, sweet air of the Cathedral gardens. Considering the panic, there were not so many people hurt. Nobody would die, the doctors said. The one fire-engine of the town had by this time reached the square ; a bucket-brigade was being formed ; and after several hours of hard work the blaze was put out. That afternoon Grandfather Brenn and Grandfather Silverstik found that they were heroes. Thankful fathers wrung them by the hand ; trembling mothers wept tears of tender gratitude. The Bishop publicly commended them. But somehow the two old men could not feel proud. It was plain that they had something on their minds. Since the terrible moments in the burning church, neither had spoken to the other. And even when Grand- father Brenn, sneaking out to the garden late at night with a lantern in one hand and a pot of pink paint in the other, met Grandfather Silverstik, similarly armed with a lantern and a pot of blue paint, sneaking in, no greeting passed between them. Each found it so hard to give way ! But next morning the hives certainly looked beautiful ! There they stood, a glistening row among the blossoming hollyhocks, all twelve of them a tender shade of charming lilac ! For Grandfather Brenn had re- painted his six pink, and Grandfather Silverstik had repainted his six blue, and blue and pink mixed together make lilac, as you have only to try to find out. So everybody was satisfied. The two apprentices, the little maid- servants, Jeanne-Marie, Marie-Jeanne, and their mothers came running out to the garden. All agreed that no color could have been handsomer, and the bees must have thought so, too, for that same morning they swarmed ! What a buzzing, what a humming they made ! Some seemed to be singing of fragrant, dewy flowers in distant meadows, urging to instant flight; others perhaps whispered of the rich stores of honey and "bee- bread " hid within the hives, and the young princesses whose wings might not yet be either strong or ready. A council of some sort was certainly going on ; there were as many opinions as there were bees. Silver wings flashed dizzily. Messengers sped forth and back again. Was the day fit? Would the sky remain clear? Even the sacred Queens were jostled by the rude workers. Order was thrown to the winds. It was the bees' one Sunday in the year. They, who had slaved so patiently, now sang and rejoiced together. One would have said the hives were bewitched. At last the long-waited signal was given. In black throngs the tiny citizens began to pour out of their castle gates. Up, up, they rose, their throbbing wings weaving so close that they looked like a flutter of silken veil in the sunlight, waving above the blossoming borders and the hollyhocks, 28 BLUE HIVES OR PINK? following the Queens in their flight, till they settled on the pear tree directly in the middle of the garden, and hung there in dark clusters like huge bunches of living grapes. And now all danger of stinging was past. Grandfather Brenn and Grandfather Silverstik brought over the hives and began to shake the bees down into them as easily as one would shake ripe fruit. There were enough for six new houses, all of a fine lavender color, and in these the tenants at once set to work. They swept the floor, varnished the walls, built cells and cupboards. No human housekeepers could have arranged better ! " Wonderful little creatures ! " remarked Grandfather Brenn, beamingly. " They understand more than most Christians, and certainly have a fine taste for color ! " " That they have," agreed Grandfather Silverstik, with a chuckle. " Sup- pose this year we give the honey and the wax to the fund for the re- decoration of the Cathedral ? " " An excellent idea," Grandfather Brenn replied. " I was about to propose that very thing myself." So peace was restored between the two households. In less than a year's time the Cathedral was made to look even more beautiful than ever ; and now when Marie-Jeanne and Jeanne-Marie go to mass of a Sunday it is side by side, just as you see them in the picture. - LITTLE ORPHANS LAMENT OF THE LITTLE ORPHANS i N Brittany are many such as we, Boasting no cross above a father's grave. They call us "little orphans of the sea"; We may be small, but oh ! our hearts are brave. There 's little Gregoire, whom you all must know ; He 's shipped for Iceland. How his mother cried ! And yet she could not help but let him go, Although so young ! — for she has six beside. And brave Jean-Louis, who would be a clerk ('Twas wonderful how well that boy could learn!), He, like the rest of us, must set to work — Five sous a day, they say, he soon may earn. That 's better than the little ones who take The bowl in hand and beg from door to door; Oh, give them something for sweet Jesus' sake, They are so small ! their homes so very poor ! So, in the factory and on the pier, We bear our burdens, large for little wage ! And if our drooping eyelids hide a tear, Remember we are still of tender age. You happier children of a happier land, Who own a mother's love, a father's care, Soften your hearts, — oh, try to understand ! Lend to our woe at least a pitying ear. AN11&1SKGY i 'M'\ k i