Produced by Jerry Kuntz
Wanderings of French Ed
by Joseph Adelard René
Published 1899
Wright & Company, New York
The beginning of life is like the morning of a spring day and dreamsare to one's soul what sunshine is to that day—often too brilliantto last; but human nature needs a stimulant, and that stimulant isthe ideal which takes place in the soul of every human being whenambition for the future is born.
Who does not remember nursing golden dreams in days gone by? Such isthe human heart; it lives on fiction, and feeds on happy dreams forthe future.
When about twenty years of age, Edward Cottret was at the end of hisschooldays, and the desire to realize an old cherished dream wasuppermost in his soul. That old dream was to go to the United States,make a fortune, come back home and astonish the natives.
The little village where Edward was living was all excitement when itwas learned that old man Cottret had decided to let his boy Ed go tothe States. Some blamed him, others thought it was proper, but theyall joined in wishing the boy godspeed and good luck.
The day to depart had arrived, and at the little station parents andfriends were assembled to bid him farewell. His mother and sisterwere taking turns kissing him, while crying, and his father, sad butsolemn, stood by, waiting for a last chance to give him, his onlyson, fatherly advice. The shrill whistle of the locomotive was heard,and then it was like the last part of a funeral ceremony, and evenEdward, who up to this time had succeeded in hiding his emotion, felthis heart growing too big for his chest, and when he held thequivering hand of Marie Louise, his sweetheart, he completely lostthe power of speech, and when she said: "Ed, don't forget me," hecould only stare at her.
The train was now ready to start, and standing at the end of the car,Edward was holding his father's hand, who also felt tears in hiseyes. The last seconds were painful to all, and it almost seemed arelief when the train moved and handkerchiefs fluttered in the airhis last farewell. Had it not been for the noise made by the movingtrain his sobbing would have been heard by those on the platform.
The last ones to leave the station were his father, his mother, andhis sweetheart. They stood there until the smoke from the locomotivecould be seen no more. Edward saw the last houses of his nativevillage grow smaller, and long after he could not see them he stoodat the end of the car while tears were coursing down his cheeks. Whenhe went inside he felt a strange sensation of loneliness which seemedto increase as the distance grew between him and his village. Whenthe train stopped at the next small station Edward was tempted to getout and walk back home; but at this his pride revolted, and the trainas it moved again seemed to mock him.
Try as he might he could not revive in his soul the old dreams forthe future, and when night came, stretched on the hard benches of thesecond class coach, he slept just long enough to dream of his motherand his village. Once he woke up, thinking he held the quivering handof his blue-eyed sweetheart.
After a restless night, morning found him aching in every limb in hisbody, but glad that he was nearing his destination. Worcester, Mass.,was the city where he expected to first walk upon American soil, andafter searching in vain upon the yellow time-table to find the exacttime he would arrive, he turned to a fellow-passenger, a big fatfellow, whom he addressed in French, saying: "A quelle heurearriverons nous a Wor-ces-ter?"
The big fellow look puzzled at first, then smilin