: Wanderings of French Ed by Ren J Adelard Joseph Adelard - United States History 19th century Fiction; French Canadians Fiction

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Wanderings of French Ed by Joseph Adelard Ren? Published 1899 Wright & Company, New York

The beginning of life is like the morning of a spring day and dreams are to one's soul what sunshine is to that day--often too brilliant to last; but human nature needs a stimulant, and that stimulant is the ideal which takes place in the soul of every human being when ambition for the future is born.

Who does not remember nursing golden dreams in days gone by? Such is the human heart; it lives on fiction, and feeds on happy dreams for the future.

When about twenty years of age, Edward Cottret was at the end of his schooldays, and the desire to realize an old cherished dream was uppermost 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 it was learned that old man Cottret had decided to let his boy Ed go to the States. Some blamed him, others thought it was proper, but they all joined in wishing the boy godspeed and good luck.

The day to depart had arrived, and at the little station parents and friends were assembled to bid him farewell. His mother and sister were taking turns kissing him, while crying, and his father, sad but solemn, stood by, waiting for a last chance to give him, his only son, fatherly advice. The shrill whistle of the locomotive was heard, and then it was like the last part of a funeral ceremony, and even Edward, who up to this time had succeeded in hiding his emotion, felt his heart growing too big for his chest, and when he held the quivering hand of Marie Louise, his sweetheart, he completely lost the power of speech, and when she said: "Ed, don't forget me," he could 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 his eyes. The last seconds were painful to all, and it almost seemed a relief when the train moved and handkerchiefs fluttered in the air his last farewell. Had it not been for the noise made by the moving train his sobbing would have been heard by those on the platform.

The last ones to leave the station were his father, his mother, and his sweetheart. They stood there until the smoke from the locomotive could be seen no more. Edward saw the last houses of his native village grow smaller, and long after he could not see them he stood at the end of the car while tears were coursing down his cheeks. When he went inside he felt a strange sensation of loneliness which seemed to increase as the distance grew between him and his village. When the train stopped at the next small station Edward was tempted to get out and walk back home; but at this his pride revolted, and the train as it moved again seemed to mock him.

Try as he might he could not revive in his soul the old dreams for the future, and when night came, stretched on the hard benches of the second class coach, he slept just long enough to dream of his mother and his village. Once he woke up, thinking he held the quivering hand of his blue-eyed sweetheart.

After a restless night, morning found him aching in every limb in his body, but glad that he was nearing his destination. Worcester, Mass., was the city where he expected to first walk upon American soil, and after searching in vain upon the yellow time-table to find the exact time he would arrive, he turned to a fellow-passenger, a big fat fellow, whom he addressed in French, saying: "A quelle heure arriverons nous a Wor-ces-ter?"

The big fellow look puzzled at first, then smiling, he said: "Talk United States."

Edward failed to understand the meaning of "talking United States," but answered "thank you," trying to look satisfied with the answer.

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