THE CHASE OF ALABONEUR.

Oamaru Mail, Volume XXXV, Issue 10010, 28 November 1908, Page 1 (Supplement)

THE CHASE OF ALABONEUR.

(By Arthur Cbllon.)

At the city of Ala.ban.our no leaguer had sliaken a mailed fist these,forty years. Siiki.ll, rich, self-ruled, high-walled,_ it stood on the bend of a. navigable river that floated a quiet trade to its watergates. Not a tilo on it« sleek red roofs was loose, not a paving stone out of place, not a door-plate unpolished. Tho crops in the fertile meadows about it grew ii» imperturbably as its fat, well-bred childrcn. Its granaries audi warehouses overflowed. No man was so rich as to wi'lk pulled and proud, and none so poor but ■could chink his. coin and have meat and yellow carrots in his daily stow ; nor was any driven to more labor than assures the digestion wh.icli ])rolit,s by its dinner, livery child's baptismal certificate guaranteed, it a fair Jiving, so long as good' behavior entitled him or her to keep the certificate. 111-behavior was, by law and custom, regarded as a. choice to live no moru ia Aialwneur, and tho i]l-.be'havod were sooner or later softly audi reasonably put forth, dismissed! from the city and its lands. So was society relieved) of the unreasonable. Such heirship it was to be born an Alabonian. All regulations wero for the common good, and obeyed by consent rather than by force; so perfectly adjusted was the social organism ; so tactful iuid respected wore the wisely chosen responsible magistrates ; so smiled on Alabomcur, tho land, tho climate, the poaco of tins time, the even justice, and s;y&tciiKitic: perfection of its /aws, th<! impeccable good sense of their application, tho uniform reasonableness of its boniest folk. It happened one day that Joachim Caen, an elderly city father of substance and generous 'waist, a. thoughtful man with u furred mantle .and. forked board, was watching the meuchandise depart by ship from the'great water-gate; and thereafter he stood gazing long at tho river oa it glided by noiseless as gliding time. . In all tho 'city about ho heard but a few dull', slow sounds. At hist bo sighed : "Life is a weary thing! Tut, tut I What is this? How so? A weary tiling! Now, why should eomo to mo so extraordinary a thought?" Looking alxnit. him, he saw a stout youth and a. fair maid that strolled by listless and silent. A child sat near on. a cleanly doorstep, and would spin, his top;'and behold, it spun out, and tho child did not "Certain, 'twas not so when I was young," thought Joachim Caen, "or, maybe, my memory goes wrong with ago. Tiis. a matter for tho Council to look into"; and ho sought tho city hall in. profound thought. The Lord -Mayor and Council sat debating whether there, anywhere existed anything' to debate, arid were about to vote that" there did not, and theroby that the utter well-being of Alaboneur needed no further assertion. Then .Joachim Caen stood forth in the midst and said : "My masters, our city is plainly under a spell. Kiie.h man hero can remember forty years back, how we were greatly coufused in those days lioth with wars and with inward dissension; how there was all manner of misdoing and mischief and misery, of over-reaching and injustice between man and man; how tho State ruled' by force and the citizens resisted by fraud ; with what reckless disorder wo jested a.inl (inarrelled, with what eagerness wo ran after folly and exchanged roprocah. Now, we do remember how our fathers at that.

time 1 . Seeing- all 'these evils, got .them to gather and - debated whether it were pas sibfe by right measures and good sense U <i<r&wxy with all these things, and especi afiy-'i-th* ating of • unjust poverty. Anc they deemed it possible. And behold it was. possible! How worthily are -\v< changed since then! - How wisely hav< hare we all : in Alaboneur disciplined our selves to reason, moderation, self-restraint Are .we not the envy of all other cities the flower of. civilisation, the model ol ffes perfect- State? Have we not elimin afced 'hatred- and anxiety? Have we hoi prove*! that theory, so oft denied, thai humanity wilt - flowv into the mould thai is •"Bet for it ; and thereafter retain tin fbTi&? Thus, a« .no other sourea of mis chief we-foond greater than that where irv yorith runs' wild 60 we dealt with it and now look about-you I Lo! whethei Jacques is to marry liargot or Jean wor rfefi .Qorpe of - the three, who know it wil bef'wj&efy decided at the proper time justly, considerately, for the benefit of all Jtpr r is tlieice- a good man in Alaboneur to'iny knowledge, , capable of a trouble some, inconsiderate, unregulated, explo sfffe" or dismtegrating jest; nor a good wife to talk scandal, or. whose demeano: is.«ot as grave as her biscuits are light nopja'Jboy-who plays tag in any differeri faSyon, than he cons his lesson, but In pursues each occupation in deference t< tbje.jipn]fort of everyone. We have si vriCdght that the city gaol is empty o because there are none. W Ps3FMit no -hunger nor rags. All men gi ptQgerly about.their business. Our chil dfr§n are obedient, our wives and maid direct. Our yotmg men go early to be< like their elders, disturbing no maids witl thel-foily.that breeds sorrow. And non is.o;f#rlabor.ed. ." "My' masters, hearken to me! I-say man of you here is weary of life we discuss it? Nay, we know it Jjf ~eVery eye in Alaboneur broodeth ; lackrlnstTe. melancholy. A mysterious op pxession has .fallen upon us. Look wel S,S.;is. not so. How, then? Is not al reason-says cannot exist, does it not impb a 5531?*' .IJ&a Mayor and Council sat in silence finasers on. fore-heads, a full half-hour. Then began the 3layor and the Counci to legislate, and legislated as follows : • 'JVShereas the Council is convinced th< city--has-not been sufficiently cheerful ant vivacious,, and either by slackness witbii or-by witchery and malice from without hAfirfaEen, into a condition, of low spirit: cQnfrajry. to the common health and. ad vantage; and.whereas all men on reflec tipd will recognise that this is true, be il decreed: (1) That every citizen hereaftei do, at least one in twenty-four hours/ be meritoriously gay, cut some enliveninj capfcr, play some reasonably ingeniouf joke, or.make some pleasantly intendec pun, in contribntion to the.general good; {if that every matron (motion of Joachin Caen) do invent, discover, give rise to exchange, or pass on, at least once a day some mdiscreet and pungent piece of gos sip; '(3) that all youths and maids do im mediately-busy themselves with, the occu paiion belonging to their period of life w& furthermore that (by motion o) Jqachim Caen). the young people of the city be, by tie proper officers, tolled of aid divided into groups of four, .whereoi tv*o. youths shall pay court to one maid : thereby the situation may be interesting to all four; (4) that all children be carefully taught to distinguish between a lesson: and a game as things in nature different, and to apply to the former a - suitable alacrity and boisterousness, nay, even be permitted and enjoined to quarrel aSdVpuH hair (motion of Master Joachim Caen), to which, after debate, were subjoined the words—in due degree : to which end all previous regulations of their behaviour be hereby suspended; (5) that messengers be sent with mollifying gifts to.vall sorcerers and witches, or {jersons having that repute, within ten miles oi thjs of Alaboneur, and candles lit before every saint's shrine within its territories; (6) furthermore, that all melancholy and low- spirits be hereafter an indictable offence and misdemeanour; (<) finally:-be it resolved, enacted, and declared that -Alaboneur is hereafter and forever cheerful." The council adjourned. ;Kever was drastic legislation so singular - jn result. No sooner proclaimed than, the urgent need of just such decrees was everywhere admitted, and all men set about, obeying the law. Songs, capers, and jokes became their earnest occupation. VTeue," they said with infallible good sense, "cheerfulness conduces to health, anoV only a cheerful and brisk society is heeltby. This matter has not been well attended to. Otherwise our social arrangements were without- flaw, abolishing the needs that cause anxiety, and the injustices that cause envy, making smooth the current- of our lives. Now have our magistrates seen the flaw and passed this most worthy and. appropriate Bill." - But —(Quel dommage! What a pity, that word ."but." The masistrates should look into that word "but" and prohibit it—of course in AJaboneur one had a certain ingenuous trustfulness. And then, to put on a, cheerful face is beautiful, nay, medicinal. Happiness is a duty, a task to be briskly undertaken. Let" one rise smiling in the morning and go about all day-with heartening words,- so shall his spirit respond- and his whole life scatter sunshine and! . helpful blessings.) But somehow^—one. knows not how—those civic jests; that municipal alacrity, that rational and, legal joyfulhess : —Alas! Speak th'em! Never were puns ever propagated . so painful, so depressing; never capers so melancholy; never conscientious emanations of such sunshine. Daily fat citizens and lean citizens, priest, merchant, mechanic and learned leech, bow-legged cobbler, stout porter and thin clerk; went tripping lugubriously along t&e pavement, and not a cheek in Alaboneur was rippled thereby. City fathers greeted* each other with "Hobo!" or "Haha f" and passed on unenlivened- If Mistress Senda- said to Mistress Alisoun that Mistress Ribot's hair was false, it but the merest j>iece of informafcioi&f it' stirred not a ripple. If a boy bethought himself to shout as instructed, straight-way. ha did so, and stopped to note -the effect. The effect stopped also. It was an 'isolated shout, without kinship or neighbor. If he pulled another boy's hair truly the other said "Ouch," or to'tfiaf- effect, arid so reminded, pulled the hair of 3 third, who also said "Ouch," or, to that, effect, and sought a fourth. Nevertheless, the total Tesulf was consecuti.vey*Jbafc not concomitant, on tht whole unsatisfactory, a barren thing. The Grouping by fours of youths and maids fell', into, fhe placidest custom and reasonable argfeement of taking turns; not a maid could compass a pang. Such were the people of Alaboneur, so imbedded in good sense, so used to the government of the'.judicious, so-orderly a social garden. so weected of wild growths, and all rank running pests of the swamp arid moor. :.'i*ow became Alaboneur for the first time conscious of its buried distress. By endeavoring to be gay it knew that it was melancholy. By asserting itself happy itknew that it was not. Everyone looking within, saw a great emptiness, and looking witjhdutr.saw-all things flat, stale and unprofitable. Everywhere spread the infection of despair. Yet none would speak of it. Gloom deepened over the city. Alaboneur was in a bad way. Sir-Clement de Beaudesert de Coudray roda between the sunlit fields of corn, and saw hefore him the clean white highway to Alaboneur, and in the distance the peaked red roofs of the city. He was a voting man with canny eyes and lean brbwri cheek; whereas the cheeks of his squire were round and ruddy as a ripe apple.. . Near by in a field a laborer stood up ah they passed, and began as 6iii who fain would dance, and to utter n-iises as one who intended to sing, and of th'iasong the words ran much to joyesse s-'-tf. allegresse, to gaite and felicite, and Sii- Clement said : "Allan..that yonder is the city of Alal rierir, -where it is said that all things go t -IL - It's no lifcel— chance for a knight <r .-.-ant whose business is with things that hive jgpne ill. But- riiy purse is wonderful empty, and the prosperity of your face is maintained by an appetite wonderful large";-; It comes to my mind we will take a-look at-this Alaboneur. If all things (jo "too well there to be of any use to me, it's-likely you'll find some sympathetic brethren "in fatness. Saint Anne! Thatclown, makes a doleful business of his joyesW- It's awful! (Jet down and throw something at him !" Such a function was to Allan, his nature and' ag», no less than the cream of all

a- pleasant things. He dismounted with s- eagernecs to clod the clown, and Sir Cie:o n-ent rode to Alaboneur, and through the» i- high gate, and stabling his horse at an d hostelry, set himself to satisfy his curio1. sity regarding that noted and notable re piace. :e At the end of an hour he suddenly inw quired for the city hall. He found the r- council in session. He'Tequested permis- . > sioii. Presently he stood within the dcors. way. The loivi mayor and the heavy ,f fathers sat in a circle, fingers to foreheads. j. Sir Clement stood forth among them, lean 3 t as a greyhound, of eyes restless and watch,t fuL'of language simple and curt. jt. "I am Clement Coudray, knight errant. Ie Have you business for me?" s . "Ah!" said the lord mayor; "to-be sure, j. I haye heard that term somewhere. And yet, precisely, what is a knight errant':'' ; p "Opinions differ/' he replied. "To my [., way of thinking he is a travelling expert 11 on reform, a sort of perambulating curer .. of ills. His methods arc more surgical Y than medical. * What is out of place he j.' replaces; where . he finds a fester, ' he uses his lance; where he finds oppression he draws his sword; , where he finds a stronghold that, imprisons any man, or the spirit of any . . man. he breaks the door. He takes no ' L advice. He asks no more questions than for wha{ he needs to know. He makes , more mistakes than he owns up to. He goes his way when he's through. Have ', you any business for me?" ? "Why, now," said the mayor ; "consider e well, my masters! This intelligent young ?P man comes from without, and sees with L fresh eyes what we see but jadedly. I .? would ask him how appears to him the |r condition of Alaboneur?" L " "It- appears to me," said Sir Clement, le "like a man whose belly aches oitterly, and who tries to cure himself by swearing Y' to high Heaven that it doesn't." e. "Precisely!" said the lord mayor, and t. "Precisely !" each councillor nodded: "Prea cisely !*' and sighed. ■ P" "What's the matter?" asked Sir Cle'l| ment. tu The lord mayor turned to Joachim ly Caen. "Master Caen, you are a man of good e > words. Mase it plain to this young man." :1 - Then Joachim Caen arose. He described at length the past and policy of [e Alaboneur,-its.equitable arrangements and 1( 1 social perfections; and thereto the mysterious spell that had. befallen; the meat sure taken to alleviate .the same ; finally ts the doleful wherein they did remain j. and increase. Sir Clement fingered his -. sword haft- with one hand and his lip ; t with the other, and gazed thoughtfully ir at- the Lord Mayor's gold-braided shoes. J e "It's a difficult case," he said at length. [,r "I have seen men who had it, but- never a ,g whole community. But that may be eomd mon, too. I've been but- six months on . the road, and have more theory than practice. A knight errant is not merj cenary, and cares for his profession, not / his profits. But when his purse is empty s ! he asks that it be filled, because its emptix. n;ss gets in his way. Mine is nearly x empty. I will ask you five hundred gold ; florins for making your city happy. It Jf must be paid on delivery of the said hap[e piness. I will not say how long the g happiness will last. It is not my business, ,f and I must- go elsewhere. Your answer, }_ then, is it yes or no?" tl "A business-like bargain !" said the Lord ie Mayor. "Very good," and each Cottncila lor nodded in turn. Sir Clement made e his salutation and was gone. a At the hostelry he found Allan, who "» had clodded several clowns, and wa6 there--l fore in an unclouded state of mind, seated n at- table with good appetite. After sup- >- per Sir Clement took a fresh horse of h the landlord, ; - "A knight errant on a night errand! •t Ha ! ha ! Is not- that a merry and a brisk s one? Ha! ha!" said the landlord 5 anxiously. 11 "Pish!" muttered the knight, spurring fe his horse. "It's the worst I ever heard!" ■' he cried aloud and heard the stablemen l " and loiterers at the inn yard gate echo \~ sadly, "A merry and a brisk one ! Ha! ) ha!" So he rode out- of the city, and '■' saw the Tising moonlight glimmer on the "■ river. Everywhere in Alaboneur folk brocded over the long, impracticable hours, and one citizen meeting another said l " softly: " "I have not, jested this day;" and the other: "That's not right, neighbor. It's ;' not right." '' Mistress Patelin on her doorstep said to [ : Mistress Corbet on hers : "Hist, neighbor! Have you heard^how '' Mistress iKesfcner winked her eye twice at f? Master Patelin, my own goodman? 'Tis [ true, and many saw her, the bold thing!" Mistress Corbet said thoughtfully: = "WeJl, there may be something in that. ;" I'll try it myself to-morrow." Mistress 1 Patelin, turning this side of the matter r over in her" mind to see what value there " might be in it, could see no value in it at all, and the two goodwives stood silent j and unhappy, each 'on her own doorstep. , Everywhere in Alaboneur youths and ' maids courted by fours in moonlight and shadow, with one maid idle, and nothing [' came of it. And if a child in Alaboneur u sleeping dreamed of battle and shipwreck, ' of glory and desire, of perfect laughter I and far-away goods, why, it may have ' been so. No one is so carefully protected and immurocl but that, sometimes, at t night, if one is young, the wild gods -„ walk in through the unguarded doors. c 00 k At dawn of day came one beating and r crying at the city gate: ; "Ho, watchman, wake!" And Jo! the .- watchman slept. It was an outland man 1. on a panting horse. When the gate was , opened, he • crjed: "News, news! Your :, Mayor's house!" and spurred through the !t streets, crying: "To arms, to arms! Ring j your bells!" So he came to the house of - the Lord Mayor, who opened his window s at the shouting. r "Store yourself, master Mayor," cried f the outland man. "The Count of Flanders 1 comes with four thousand men .and more, t and swears your corn was poisoned, and - six hundred of his people lie sick to f death." . "Com! Poisoned !" said the bewildered 3 Mayor. '"Why, we 6ent the Count of :l Flanders a shiplead last- week " But t the man was gone. Presently through the r streets, where faces stared, round-eyed r and blank, from half the windows, came 3 hurrying the roused city fathers to the ' Council meeting: and hardly was the ses- . sion begun ere another outland man, in - a cloak and scarlet hood, was clamoring ; at the door. : "Flanders, Flanders! Guard your ; walls!" * Questioned in the Council, he told what : rumors were everywhere* abroad. "Some : say your corn was held three days for l toffs passing the country of the Count of ■ Cologne, who is on no good terms with . Flanders. But 'tis neither hsre nor there. : Flanders swears whether you physicked your corn for him or for rats, he'll have 5 it oat of your hides, life for life, and this puffed-up "city shall make Ids own towns no '> more rebellious to their duty with ex- '< ample of its fat swinishness—asking your ', pardon, masters, but so he speaks, men ; say. And he swears he will take Ala- ■ boneur with all speed and sack it to his ; satisfaction." ; "Cologne! Cologne!" cried a breath- ■ less voice at the door. Entered, with sweaty forehead" and hot face, a third messenger, crying: "The Count of Cologne is afoot with three thousand men. Guard your walls!" "Saints preserve 11s!"' exclaimed the Lord Mayor. "What ails' the Count of Cologne" "He swears there are dead dogs and stale cats in the meat you sent him for an insult, and he'll join with FJanders and take vengeance." "Why, we did send him meat last week'. 'Twas "on Thursday, and 'twas as honest veal and mutton as ever grew," protested the - mayor. Now poured in tidings on tidings, messenger on messenger, and 60 through the morning, until by noon some twenty stood on the council floor, some outland men, some Alabonians, and their stories hung not altogether and seemed mixed with wandering rumor. Yet on the main issue they agreed, that the forces of neither j Flanders nor Cologne were more than two days' march away. Moreover, the whole countryside was now in a panic, and from all sides the farming folk were fleeing into 1 the city, and the city itself was gone 1 mad with fear. Then Joachim Caen rose 1 up and said : t "My,-masters, will you hear the truth? t These are evil-minded men, these counts, t They are jealous of our wealth, our just 1 laws and wise system, which make their t

own people discontented with the wicked and foolish old ways, the disorder and injustice. Whether Count Cologne physicked the Flanders corn I know not, but you have known him yourselves for a man of unsteady and scheming mind, and you know well the nettish temper of Count Flanders. Now are these leagued toother and seek excuses to fill their poverty with our store and their spleen with our ruin. Here is the good sense of the thing. I sav. look well you acquit yourselves like men." Thereupon, dismissing the messengers -with rewards, they fell to business, apoointed captains and sub-captains, ' arid nassed a proclamation. And all that afternoon the streets were filled and thronged with clamor and panting country-folk pouring in from the fields, men, women; and children laboring, tearing up paving stones to carry to the wall tops; and blocking up every gate but one with masonry. Old arni6 were furbished; weapons were made of meat spits, cleavers and farm implements, helmets of stovepots, breastplates of 'frying pans. Everywhere the hot faces of men, .the weeping of women arid'children. The night came, and no sleep for men, but hurry and the flare of torches, the heart-sinking, knowledge that Flanders and Cologne were too strong to be long resisted. Churches thronged with pale maids and matrons praying wildly for lovers and_ husbands on the walls. Morning came, and the haggard-eyed watchmen over the gates looked out in the pale light and saw green grain fields and nestlimr low houses empty and waiting for who should pass thai day and trample and burn them. Oh, the nweet land and comfortable dear city! How one had loved them and knew it not! And npiv the end was at hand. Bitterness, and wrong had roamed the world everywhere but in Alaboneur. But then for a generation these things were little .known; instead of unbroken calm, the leisurely occupations of a socialised state, the just laws, plenteous meat and drink, the good of each merged in the good of all, life's natural ills tempered to the drift of quiet hours. Oh,,our native land, our own fair city! Would God that we might die, so these were saved ! Then, came there one beating and crying at the gate: "Ho, watchman, wake!" And lo ! none slept. It was a riian on a saddleless mule, and in the tattered, motley garb of a Merry Andrew. Into the city he galloped, reeling and roaring: "News! News!" But/ what news he would not say. and they led him to the city hall, where the council sat all night debating. "News, my masters," he cried. "The Counts of Flanders and Cologne have fallen out, hard beyond your border. 'Twas vester eve, and so far I heard that at midnight the fight was yet on under the moon." While they yet wondered and talked of this, conjecturing at odds, came an old man of white beard, riding an old white horse, and bearinqp a harp upon his back anu a twinkling light in his eye. He too was hurried to the city hall, and all about Alaboneur fan rumors, arid some shouted, and some whispered, "What is it? .0 neighbors, tell us news!" The harper in the council chamber spoke thus : "Sirs, I bring you what men say this morning. They say Count Flanders accused Count Cologne of poisoning his corn, which Count- Colosne and thereon each said the other lied, and presently men fell to blows about it, and then ail went mad as a pack of starved wolves. And now I hear—but how news comes I know not—that Count Cologne was beaten and taken prisoner and half his men s-ain. and Count Flanders goes home, his force being shattered and himself wounded, and wants no more fighting at this time. Now it was full day. Now iriessenger on messenger came until by noon ten stood on the council chamber floor Various stories they maintained, but in this they asTeed, that a battle was fought by night, Cologne had been beaten, and Flanders was marching back to Flanders. Sir Clement de Beaudesert de Coudray rode a jaded horse through the gates of Alaboneur. where no man watched, through "streets where everyone talked and few listened. He" stabled his horse himself. No man seemed to be attending any accustomed business. He went toward the great square of the city hall. Was there a boy in Alaboneur without a. trumpet to his use? Then, truly, he was beating a tin pan. In the scmaTe scores of couples, with laughter and shining eyes, were dancinnf to the music of an incompetent collection of plucked, sawn, and blown instruments. Casks of wine Etood against the walls, each had a spisot for whoever had a cup. It seemed as if some had had too many cups, or how came . Master Courbet in his furred hood, and Master Renni, the cobbler, in his leathern apron, to be thus fallen upon each other's necks in the middle of the street? How came_master Patelin, the ehirjwright, with Mistress Patelin, and Master. Kestner, the leather merchant, with black-eyed Mistress Kestner, the whole four of them to be parading arm in arm, uproariously laughing together over the most foolish, inane, and feeble jest ever gasped forth by shipwright ? Sir Clement, pushed his wav through and came to the city hall. In the council chamber sat the city fathers passing resolutions and trying, with no great success, to keep the*text of the .resolutions free of scandalous hilarity and the. frivolous amendments of the lord mayoT. Sir Clement stood forth in their midst and saluted :• "That merchantable commodity of happiness, is it delivered?" , The city fathers gazed at him with slow returning recollection. "Ah," said the lord mayor, "Sir Clement, to be sure! We are pleased to see you. Truth is, we had forgotten your proposal—so much has happened. The city rejoices with relief from great fear, distress and peril. Do you bring us aiiy news ?" "This news: nameH I hear that the city of Alaboneur has begun to sit up and ask questions." "Tut!" said the lord mayor. "Verygood, very good indeed! But have you any certain knowledge of Flanders and Cologne?" "I have certain knowledge," said Sir Clement, "that the Count of Cologne marches and has marched nowhere at all, nor complained of your veal, - your mutton, nor your invidious prosperity; that the Count of Flanders went- to Picardy these three weeks back to get him a wife", and his people have and have had no other than their ordinary health, nor have his men at arms done anything in particular. Those thirty messengers were all my messengers. 1 have propagated eighty-four lies; namely, four specific kinds with eighty variations, thereby selling my knightly honor at six florins a lie. I have Tidden your little country from end to end and sown it with rumor, for that harvest of happiness the which you enjov. Well! Does life taste sweet in the mouth, messieurs, that tasted sour and sick when we met last? Are you weary of it- still ? Or are you only weary with a heady day and a sleepless night?" The city fathers rose as one and gazed on the young man. "As for my five hundred florins " The mayor looked at the chancellor of the exchequer. The chancellor brought a heavy roll of gold and put it in the knight's hand, and retired quickly as from the neighborhood of he knew not what. The lord mayor,, the chancellor and the city fathers, every man took off his red velvet cap and bowed profoundly. Sir Clement saluted "in return with, polish, grace and, good breeding; so went his way. And Joachim Caen said softly : "My lord mayor and masters, I would move that we adjourn," The motion was carried. Sir Clement de Beaudesert de Coudray and his 6quire rode away in the sunlight through the green barley fields. Sir Clement yawned: "This keeping you fed, Allan," he said, "is keeping me up nights."