TALKS TO LITTLE FOLKS.

New Zealand Times, Volume LVII, Issue 2413, 19 January 1895, Page 2 (Supplement)

TALKS TO LITTLE FOLKS.

MARIE, THE LITTLE ONE. ■ She was a French girl, named Marie—w.e call it Mary, Her parents had a'little farm with poultry and goats in the mountains,, about seven miles from Chambory. To reach the nearest village one has to descend a steep path to the valley and then climb on the other side, hut at one part the rooks meet so as to allow a bridge made by a long poplar, with a rope fence to hold on as yon cross. It. requires moral courage to cross that bridge over the chasm which is about two hundred feet to the rocks below. One evening when the mother with Mrry is returning from the village, she is alarmed by seeing the bridge giving wav through old ago and recent heavy rains. The father is away this week working at Chamber), and when he returns she will have a new tree placed Next morning she goes to the Tillage by the long path down the valley to take eggs and to tell the people not to como over the bridge, and leaves word with Mary not io go near it. She also fastens the gate to keep the goats from crossing, as one side the tree seems as if the least touch might bring it down. , Daring her absence father comes home; says he will go to meet mother to carry the basket; and Mary may come ; bo will carry her on his shoulder.

“ Father, when you como to the bridge, you must go by the long path, mother says the bridge will break down if oven a wee goat goes on it; she has tied up the gate.” “ Oh, nonsense ; the bridge .will hold until it is mended with a new one ; we shall go across to mother 1” “ Father, put me down, please.” He drops her from his shoulder ; she walks along with her little hand in his ; the goats with bells around their necks look on from the rocks above and begin to come down. Mary’s little heart is grieved; she believes her father's weight will break down the bridge and dash him to death on the rocks below. He wonders why she, his bright liitle Mary, is so quiet, and why she hugs his hand tenderly in both her hands as they "go along. He stops to light his pipe, and the goats also stop. She says “Father, lam very, very sorry yon will go over the bridge, wheu mother, says it will break down !” “ Why, sweet Mary, mine 1 you are as fanciful as the dear mother ; we will dance on the bridge 1 ’ They go on. “ Father, yon never pray ; now just supposing that I should die before bedtime, I want you to promise to kneel down and pray to Qodl ’

“ What nonsense, again, dearest Mary 1 you areas well as ever you were 1 why talk of dying? the very thought brings tears to my eyes!’’ “Well, darling father, only supposing, you know ; that ia all ; supposing I die before night, you will kneel down and pray to God by my littlo bed 7” “ Mary, my joy,” he slowly answers, “ I promise : but it is all nonsense ; the good mother has frightened you ; I will go on the bridge first and jump on it, and then you will laugh at yonr fears. ’

Ma:y shudders, but stops ; looks up into his face with tears yet with her old bright smile and exclaims, “ Dearest father, kiss mo 1" In his surprise he drops his pipe, but takes her in his arms and gives her a fond embrace, while she hugs him and kisses him over and over again. Then she picks up the pipe ; he puts more tobacco in ; she strikes into the road ; they want i|b follow over the the match to light if for him j the goats come bridge which seems as firm as ever. Mary looks back, and exclaims, “ Father, dearest) what is that white thing on the mountain ; it looks like an angel V He stops to look ; lifts both hands to help him see better. Mary runs on the bridge towards the other end. He turns to remark " Mary, I do not see anything but a little mist,” when he hears the- crunch of: the falling bridge, and beholds the child: falling to the terrible gulf below. Like a madman he leaps down from rock to rock until he reaches his little Mary, who has given .her life for him. With loud sobs which echo in the rocks, he carries her body, praying God to have mercy on him, and as he goes to the house with her the goats follow in procession one by one and stand sadly at the garden gate,, while ho’is on his knees, and his face on the ground where he has laid her, cries with a broken heart before God; _ If ever you visit that part of Franco, you will see a white marble headstone in the Chambery cemetery bearing these words ■ ■ Marie ' l; • ■ A'jie huit ans. . 'La petite donnait sarjeune ■ vie pour sditver son pore. ■ [Maty; aged eight years. . The little one gave her life to'save her father.]