Posts tagged Turning
The Lane That Had No Turning, Volume 3
0THE TRAGIC COMEDY OF ANNETTE
The chest of drawers, the bed, the bedding, the pieces of linen, and the
pile of yarn had been ready for many months. Annette had made inventory
of them every day since the dot was complete–at first with a great deal
of pride, after a time more shyly and wistfully: Benoit did not come. He
had said he would be down with the first drive of logs in the summer, and
at the little church of St. Saviour’s they would settle everything and
get the Cure’s blessing. Almost anybody would have believed in Benoit.
He had the brightest scarf, the merriest laugh, the quickest eyes, and
the blackest head in Pontiac; and no one among the river drivers could
sing like him. That was, he said gaily, because his earrings were gold,
and not brass like those of his comrades. Thus Benoit was a little vain,
and something more; but old ladies such as the Little Chemist’s wife said
he was galant. Probably only Medallion the auctioneer and the Cure did
not lose themselves in the general admiration; they thought he was to
Annette like a farthing dip to a holy candle.
Annette was the youngest of twelve, and one of a family of thirty-for
some of her married brothers and sisters and their children lived in her
father’s long white house’ by the river. When Benoit failed to come in
the spring, they showed their pity for her by abusing him; and when she
pleaded for him they said things which had an edge. They ended by
offering to marry her to Farette, the old miller, to whom they owed money
for flour. They brought Farette to the house at last, and she was
patient while he ogled her, and smoked his strong tabac, and tried to
sing. She was kind to him, and said nothing until, one day, urged by her
brother Solime, he mumbled the childish chanson Benoit sang the day he
left, as he passed their house going up the river:
“High in a nest of the tam’rac tree,
Swing under, so free, and swing over;
Swing under the sun and swing over the world,
My snow-bird, my gay little lover
My gay little lover, don, don! . . . don, don!
“When the winter is done I will come back home,
To the nest swinging under and over,
Swinging under and over and waiting for me,
Your rover, my snow-bird, your rover–
Your lover and rover, don, don! . . . don, don!”
It was all very well in the mouth of the sprightly, sentimental Benoit;
it was hateful foolishness in Farette. Annette now came to her feet
suddenly, her pale face showing defiance, and her big brown eyes flicking
anger. She walked up to the miller and said: “You are old and ugly and a
fool. But I do not hate you; I hate Solime, my brother, for bringing you
here. There is the bill for the flour? Well, I will pay it myself–and
you can go as soon as you like.”
Then she put on her coat and capote and mittens, and went to the door.
“Where are you going, Ma’m'selle?” cried Solime, in high rage.
“I am going to M’sieu’ Medallion,” she said.
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The Lane That Had No Turning, Complete
0The story with which this book opens, ‘The Lane That Had No Turning’,
gives the title to a collection which has a large share in whatever
importance my work may possess. Cotemporaneous with the Pierre
series, which deal with the Far West and the Far North, I began in
the ‘Illustrated London News’, at the request of the then editor, Mr.
Clement K. Shorter, a series of French Canadian sketches of which
the first was ‘The Tragic Comedy of Annette’. It was followed by ‘The
Marriage of the Miller, The House with the Tall Porch, The Absurd
Romance of P’tite Louison, and The Woodsman’s Story of the Great White
Chief’. They were begun and finished in the autumn of 1892 in lodgings
which I had taken on Hampstead Heath. Each–for they were all very
short–was written at a sitting, and all had their origin in true
stories which had been told me in the heart of Quebec itself. They were
all beautifully illustrated in the Illustrated London News, and in their
almost monosyllabic narrative, and their almost domestic simplicity,
they were in marked contrast to the more strenuous episodes of the
Pierre series. They were indeed in keeping with the happily simple and
uncomplicated life of French Canada as I knew it then; and I had perhaps
greater joy in writing them and the purely French Canadian stories that
followed them, such as ‘Parpon the Dwarf, A Worker in Stone, The Little
Bell of Honour, and The Prisoner’, than in almost anything else I have
written, except perhaps ‘The Right of Way and Valmond’, so far as Canada
is concerned.
I think the book has harmony, although the first story in it covers
eighty-two pages, while some of the others, like ‘The Marriage of the
Miller’, are less than four pages in length. At the end also there are
nine fantasies or stories which I called ‘Parables of Provinces’. All
of these, I think, possessed the spirit of French Canada, though all are
more or less mystical in nature. They have nothing of the simple realism
of ‘The Tragic Comedy of Annette’, and the earlier series. These nine
stories could not be called popular, and they were the only stories
I have ever written which did not have an immediate welcome from the
editors to whom they were sent. In the United States I offered them to
‘Harper’s Magazine’, but the editor, Henry M. Alden, while, as I know,
caring for them personally, still hesitated to publish them. He thought
them too symbolic for the every-day reader. He had been offered four of
them at once because I declined to dispose of them separately, though
the editor of another magazine was willing to publish two of them.
Messrs. Stone & Kimball, however, who had plenty of fearlessness where
literature was concerned, immediately bought the series for The Chap
Book, long since dead, and they were published in that wonderful little
short-lived magazine, which contained some things of permanent value
to literature. They published four of the series, namely: ‘The Golden
Pipes, The Guardian of the Fire, By that Place Called Peradventure,
The Singing of the Bees, and The Tent of the Purple Mat’. In England,
because I would not separate the first five, and publish them
individually, two or three of the editors who were taking the Pierre
series and other stories appearing in this volume would not publish
them. They, also, were frightened by the mystery and allusiveness of the
tales, and had an apprehension that they would not be popular.
Perhaps they were right. They were all fantasies, but I do not wish
them other than they are. One has to write according to the impulse that
seizes one and after the fashion of one’s own mind. This at least can be
said of all my books, that not a page of them has ever been written to
order, and there is not a story published in all the pages bearing
my name which does not represent one or two other stories rejected by
myself. The art of rejection is the hardest art which an author has
to learn; but I have never had a doubt as to my being justified in
publishing these lit
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The Lane That Had No Turning, Volume 2
0THE ABSURD ROMANCE OF P’TITE LOUISON
The five brothers lived with Louison, three miles from Pontiac, and
Medallion came to know them first through having sold them, at an
auction, a slice of an adjoining farm. He had been invited to their
home, intimacy had grown, and afterwards, stricken with a severe illness,
he had been taken into the household and kept there till he was well
again. The night of his arrival, Louison, the sister, stood with a
brother on either hand–Octave and Florian–and received him with a
courtesy more stately than usual, an expression of the reserve and
modesty of her single state. This maidenly dignity was at all times
shielded by the five brothers, who treated her with a constant and
reverential courtesy. There was something signally suggestive in their
homage, and Medallion concluded at last that it was paid not only to the
sister, but to something that gave her great importance in their eyes.
He puzzled long, and finally decided that Louison had a romance. There
was something which suggested it in the way they said “P’tite Louison”;
in the manner they avoided all gossip regarding marriages and marriage-
feasting; in the way they deferred to her on questions of etiquette (as,
for instance, Should the eldest child be given the family name of the
wife or a Christian name from her husband’s family?). And P’tite
Louison’s opinion was accepted instantly as final, with satisfied
nods on the part of all the brothers, and whispers of “How clever!
how adorable!”
P’tite Louison affected never to hear these remarks, but looked
complacently straight before her, stirring the spoon in her cup, or
benignly passing the bread and butter. She was quite aware of the homage
paid to her, and she gracefully accepted the fact that she was an object
of interest.
Medallion had not the heart to laugh at the adoration of the brothers,
or at the outlandish sister, for, though she was angular, and sallow, and
thin, and her hands were large and red, there was a something deep in her
eyes, a curious quality in her carriage commanding respect. She had
ruled these brothers, had been worshipped by them, for near half a
century, and the romance they had kept alive had produced a grotesque
sort of truth and beauty in the admiring “P’tite Louison”–an
affectionate name for her greatness, like “The Little Corporal” for
Napoleon. She was not little, either, but above the middle height,
and her hair was well streaked with grey.
Her manner towards Medallion was not marked by any affectation. She was
friendly in a kind, impersonal way, much as a nurse cares for a patient,
and she never relaxed a sort of old-fashioned courtesy, which might have
been trying in such close quarters, were it not for the real simplicity
of the life and the spirit and lightness of their race. One night
Florian–there were Florian and Octave and Felix and Isidore and Emile
–the eldest, drew Medallion aside from the others, and they walked
together by the river. Florian’s air suggested confidence and mystery,
and soon, with a voice of hushed suggestion, he told Medallion the
romance of P’tite Louison. And each of the brothers at different times
during the next fortnight did the same, differing scarcely at all in
details, or choice of phrase or meaning, and not at all in general facts
and essentials. But each, as he ended, made a different exclamation.
“Voila, so sad, so wonderful! She keeps the ring–dear P’tite Louison!”
said Florian, the eldest.
“Alors, she gives him a legacy in her will! Sweet P’tite Louison,” said
Octave.
“Mais, the governor and the archbishop admire her–P’tite Louison:” said
Felix, nodding confidently at Medallion.
“Bien, you should see the linen and the petticoats!” said Isidore, the
humorous one of the family. “He was great–she was an angel, P’tite
Louison!”
“Attends! what love–what history–what passion!–the perfect P’tite
Louison!” cried Emile, the youngest, the most sentimental. “Ah,
Moliere!” he added, as
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Turning 20 on Monday! ideas for me and my girlfriends?
1I havent begun planning anything until now, and im celebrating a week later. Im thinking about maybe a road trip to New York City with friends. What kind of things would be fun to do there? we may not go to nyc so any other ideas would be greattt=) Im a horrible planner!
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NEED FEEDBACK: I’m turning 30 next year & I want 2 throw a party on a boat ; to risky or good idea?
17I live in Houston, not far from Kemah and I’m thinking of renting a yacht and having a party while we sale out for 4 hours. the yacht can hold up to 60 people. we will have drinkscateredappetizers, and the livest D J ever. I’m also thinking that my colors should be Brown and Gold or Silver & turquoise. The best answer will win an invite to the party. Expense paid if not in Texas!! Oh yeah, I also need to download a special drink for everyone to sip for my B-DAY toast, something fruity or mixed!! PLEASE HELP!! I need 2 start planning NOW!!
NEED FEEDBACK: I’m turning 30 next year & I want 2 throw a party on a boat ; to risky or good idea?
17I live in Houston, not far from Kemah and I’m thinking of renting a yacht and having a party while we sale out for 4 hours. the yacht can hold up to 60 people. we will have drinkscateredappetizers, and the livest D J ever. I’m also thinking that my colors should be Brown and Gold or Silver & turquoise. The best answer will win an invite to the party. Expense paid if not in Texas!! Oh yeah, I also need to download a special drink for everyone to sip for my B-DAY toast, something fruity or mixed!! PLEASE HELP!! I need 2 start planning NOW!!




