The Argosy — page 82: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

All Souls’ Eve. 67 “ Then, it’s kept in this village, I can tell you, Mademoiselle! The grand bell, that’s stunning us now, begins at five in the morning, and never leaves off all day. And the church is kept open till ten at night. You should see the candles that are burnt in it after dark. Hundreds of them.” “Why, yes!” interrupted Clara, in sudden recollection ; ‘to-morrow night is the Eve of All Souls! The night when we pray for the dead !” “And wherever were your wits, Mademoiselle, that you have only just thought of that?” asked Babette, with that familiarity of manner characteristic of French servants: who, however, with all their freedom of speech, do not lose sight of respect. ‘Ts it the custom here to kneel in the cemetery and pray on the Day of the Dead ?” questioned Clara. “T should think it is the custom everywhere,” answered Babette, indignation in her tone at the superfluous question. ‘‘ Dry or wet, we all go, if we have any dead to pray for; and those who’ve not go for company. ‘That arrowroot’s thickening, Miss Clare.” “Do you go, Babette?” : ‘What should hinder me?” asked Babette. ‘And la patronne,” with another jerk of the head towards the salle-A-manger, “gives me two hours to-morrow afternoon forchurch. But there’s one thing I would not do, Mademoiselle ; and that is, go out to pray to-morrow night.” “Why not?” asked Clara. ‘« Catch me stirring abroad after dark on All Souls’ Eve! Why, you know, Miss Chae, that the spirits come out of purgatory then, and appear to you.” “ Superstitious people say so, Babette. But it is not true.” | ** Oh, well—if you know better than those who have seenthem. J have seen them,” concluded Babette, resolutely. “You may have fancied so.” “T saw my sisters husband. She, hard-hearted creature! had got married again, so, of course, it was no use its appearing to er. I was scuttering along in the dark to the church—it’s six years ago this same blessed November—and there I beheld.something without form, a flutter- ing of wings like, just before me, high in the air. I knew it was my poor brother-in-law’s soul, released for that night out of purgatory, and I fell flat down on my face in a pool of water, and never dared to get up again till some passers-by led me home. You may well fancy, Mademoiselle, that I have not put myself outside the door since on All Souls’ Eve. _ But oh, my heart, Miss Clare! have you heard what Madame Latange is — going to do?” “No,” answered Clara, rousing up at the name. ‘‘Master Francis’s tombstone is completed, and in the cemetery. The most superb slab, they say: a white urn, and a willow on black GOMiGdoo im