his arm fails him, and is the wilderness to
close again over the little field that he has
staked and planted?

TRUTH IN IRONS.

I.

ON the twenty-third of July, eighteen
hundred and forty-six, towards the close
of a sultry day, two men were strolling along
the high-road leading from Bazeille to La
Motte Landron: both little villages, situated
in the French department of La Gironde.
These two men were Jean Delorme and Jules
Delorme, his son.

Jules was in high spirits; for the object
he had worked hard to accomplish for the
last six years—the dream of his youth—
was realised. He was parish schoolmaster,
and the accepted suitor of Louise, the best
and prettiest girl of the surrounding villages.
Monsieur Courtras, the rich corn merchant,
would never, however, have consented to the
marriage of his daughter with a poor
schoolmaster, if he had not won his position very
rapidly, and had still a prospect of rising
higher. For Monsieur Courtras had always
wished to marry Louise to Victor Leblanc,
who had quite enough to live upon independently,
and would inherit all the property of
a rich uncle. Jules was therefore in high
spirits, because he and his father had been
spending the evening with the Courtras
family, and his marriage with Louise had
been fixed to take place on the first of
September.

While still upon their way home, at the
turning of a road, Jules and his father met
two men dressed in dark blue blouses, and
black cloth caps. They seemed vexed and
startled at meeting them, and answered their
passing good evening in rather constrained
voices.

"Those are strangers," said Jean Delorme;
" I wonder where they are going."

"But what is that?" suddenly interrupted
Jules, pointing across some fields upon
the right-hand side of the road: "surely
it is something on fire. Yes, there is now
flame; it must be a haystack in old Gay's
farm."

The father and son hastened their steps,
and in about a quarter of an hour came near
the farm. To their dismay, on approaching
it, they found that the fire did not proceed
from a haystack, but from the farmhouse itself,
which was built of wood and thatch. Forks
of crimson flame were now issuing from
every window and door, illuminating the sky,
the trees, the stack-yard, and the surrounding
country.

"Run and alarm the village, Jules," said
the father, "call the firemen and the Maire.
Gay must be gone in search of assistance; for
he could not have been in bed when the fire
broke out. At any rate I will remain here
and watch."

On his way to the village Jules met many
of the villagers, who had seen the smoke and
flames, and were running to see whence the
fire proceeded. Telling them hastily what
direction to take, Jules ran on to the Mairie.
But Monsieur the Maire had gone to spend
the evening with a friend in the next village;
and the firemen dared not take their engine
to extinguish the fire without a written order
from that important functionary. Jules
therefore volunteered to go and inform him
of the occurrence, and obtain the requisite
order.

After an hour's sharp walking, Jules
reached Marmande; and, with some difficulty,
found the maire quietly sipping black coffee,
and smoking a cigar in his friend's garden.
The pompous and fussy official on hearing
what was the matter, said:

"Very well, I will write out two orders;
one for the firemen to take their engine, and
the other for the officer commanding the
garrison at La Reolle to send a few troops to
keep order and assist in putting out the fire;
and you will tell my secretary to deliver
them both immediately. As for myself, I
shall follow in a few minutes, and direct the
operations."

On his return to La Motte Landron, Jules
gave the two orders to the secretary, and
then hastened to rejoin his father at the
farm. He found, on arriving, that the
conflagration had spread from the house to the
barns and several of the haystacks; and the
blazing mass shed a reddish hue over several
hundred men, women, and children, who
were perched upon every bank, mound, or
tree, which commanded a good view of the
spectacle.

"Where is Gay?" inquired Jules of some
of the bystanders.

"Alas! poor man, he is not to be found,
he must have perished in the flames before
any one arrived," was the reply; "your
father tried to force his way into the house;
but, after being nearly suffocated with the
smoke, was obliged to return."

Here the conversation was put an end to
by the arrival, at a brisk trot, of six firemen
harnessed to their engine, and dressed in dark
blue clothes and bright brass helmets. The
officer in command immediately ordered a
chain to be formed, to hand buckets of water
to the firemen from the well, situated at
about two hundred yards' distance from the
house. But the greater bulk of the crowd
began to disperse as soon as the firemen
approached them with their little leathern
buckets like hats, and only a few boys
consented to form a chain. These boys, however,
were bent upon nothing but mischief and
enjoying themselves; so, as each passed the
bucket along with one hand, he generally
dipped his other into it, and dashed a handful
of the water at the face of his nearest neighbour.
As each boy in his turn did the same,
when the buckets reached the hands of the