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Meade, L. T., 1854-1914

"The Children's Pilgrimage"

Once amongst those mountains, he had a sort of
idea that he soon should roll off that seven years of London cruelty
and defilement, and become a happy and innocent child again.
Of course, Maurice was joyful in the Landes; he liked the south, it
was sunny and good, and he liked the kind peasant-women, who all
petted the pretty boy, and fed him on the freshest of eggs and
richest of goat's milk. But, perhaps, of all the little pilgrims,
Toby was now the happiest--the most absolutely contented. Not a cloud
hung over Toby's sky, not a care lingered in his mind.
He was useful too--indeed he was almost the breadwinner of the
little party. For Joe had at last taught Toby to dance, and to dance
with skill quite remarkable in a dog of his age. No one knew what
Toby suffered in learning that rather ponderous dance; how stiff his
poor legs felt, how weak his back, how hard he had to struggle to
keep his balance. But from the day that Joe had rescued the children
in the snow, Toby had become so absolutely his friend, had so
completely withdrawn the fear with which at first he had regarded
him, that now, for very love of Joe, he would do what he told him. He
learned to dance, and from the time the children left Bordeaux, he
had really by this one accomplishment supported the little party.
In the villages of the Landes the people were simple and innocent,
they cared very little about centimes, sous, or francs; but they
cared a great deal about amusement; and when Joe played his fiddle
and Toby danced, they were so delighted, and so thoroughly enjoyed
the sport, that in return they gave supper, bed, and breakfast to the
whole party free of charge.


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