Worcester daily spy., 1861-11-09
G0lortester 9aiIg SPY.
THE eRANDMorHER,s ARM CHAIR.

Labouheyre is a station on the Bordeaux
and Bavonue railway. The humble village is
halfway between those cities in the midst of
the sandy and arid plains, called laadeS show.
ing little other vegetation than stunted pines,
and over which The people OF the region are
accustomed to move with the aid ofrude stills.
These queer aids to ocomotion are in such
general use throughout the landeS, that they
form distinguishing feature OF The "liie under
difficulties" which constitutes, in the main,
the social existence OF that poor and remote
portion OF Ia belle France.
Before reaching Labouheyre, the traveller
journeys through some twenty miles OF des.
ert. AT length the rushing train comes to
stand still in the midst of a score or two OF red
tiles, that look as though they had been drop
ed down at random on the edge OF Il forest Of
scrubby trees This poverty-stricken village
is Labouheyre.
The utter stagnation of the place is broken
only by the passage Of the trains, and by the
fairs that are held there twice in each year.
But the excitement of the sleepy villagers at
the echo of these fairs is great indeed, crowds
of yistorg flock to the fair from all Tie coun.
try sides, for fifty miles around Entire ianl.
lies make their appearance, arriving III clumsy
covered carts, drawn by oxen, with heavy
numbering wheels and white awnings, which
afford shelter to the occupants from tie sun
by day and from the dews by night. The
journey through this unstable country, in
which the wheels often sink 10 the axes, and
oxen to their launches, often lasts tor weeks
together, and the long files Of white wagons,
creeping slowly across the sandy Wilderness
look not unlike caravan crossing the desert
While the iair lasts, every dwelling i'll La
bouheyre is metamOrphOSed into lodging
house, and every villager iuto tavern keeper
the natives take up their quarters in stables
and sheds and LOT Mt thajr
dwellings to strangers, whom they fleece at
such times TO their hearts content.
1t was at one OF those busy periods that ar
incident occurred, which the domestic anna
lists of the village still recount at their Candle.
mas and Halloween gatherings round the biaz.
ing pine log fires that never fail to greet the
return of those tavorite festivals. AT the
period in question, a young German painter,
who has made for himself brilliant place in
the world of art, was making sketching tour
in the south OF France. He had often heard
OF the strange, desolate scenery OF the l0adeS
and the sight of certain pictures OF Bracasset
and Rosa Bonheur, which tender in all their
primitive charms, the vague and dreamy ex-
panses of the region, determined him to turn
his steps in that direction.
When Fritz Staeckles, as we call our artist,
reached Labouheyre, the cracked bell OF the
little church sounding the hour before
midnight, and the entire village notw ithstand.
ing the excitement of the fair, was wrapped III
slumber. Every door was closed, every win.
dow was barred. Not light was to be seen,
not even dog was stirring. The young ar.
tst, puzzled as to what to do for lodging at
length determined to knock at all the doors
until he should find some sort Of quarters for
the night. He accordingly walked up to the
door OF the first house he came to, and tap
ping thereat with his walking stick, he listen.
ed ttrsD Snupd within Indicative ,i 10
iuiness on Tie part OF its occupants. But he
had not to wait long, Tor the door was almost
Immediately thrown open, and Fritz, at once
entering the cottage, found himself i'll a low,
large, haltsitting room, with floor of earth,
and bright fire ON the wide open hearth, for
even in the month OF July, the people of the
iandeS never think OF going to bed without
taking an airing at the fire, as preservative
against the proverbal insalubri:y OF the re.
gion.
Two men and Il woman OF some fifty years
OF age, were seated beside the fire. AS Fritz
entered the room he deposited his walking
stick and valise under the table, while the two
men rose from their seats, took from the corner
OF the overlangng chimney piece candle of
pitch that was burning in a rude wooden can
die stick, and went out al the further end Of
the apartment saluting their hostess with
''good night, to you, Dame Bernardine."
Good night to you both" replied the host
ess, as she advanced toward the new conner
and demanded what he wanted.
"Why, at this time Of night, replied Fritz,
zone can hardly want anything else than sup
per and bed"
"a bed p returned the woman, "al, mon
sieur, that is quite impossible. There are
already five or SIX persons in every one OF the
rooms. The two travellers who have just gone
out of the room, are going to sleep on the
ms and that will INST tl,,,In fiUa
irancs,' added the woman. "And yet they
are rich rosin dealers from the neighboIhood
OF Liph0stey. One of them has this very day
Sold twenty-five thousand francs worth of rOs-
in. And only to think OF it; they spent an
hour in disputing before they would consent
10 give five francs tor my mattrass, which
makes only fifty sous apiece for them"
And do you think, madame" interrupted
the artist, 'that | can anywhere find supper
and bed -
Il think it very doubtful, monsieur; at
least, for the bed. As for the supper, that's
another matter, and I'm quite ready 10 serve
you. Would you like a leg of goose stewed
with cabbage 1t is all | have lett"
"Let me have it, by all means" cried the
hungry artist approvlngly.
81 must tell you" continued the hostess,
"that this is not an inn. But, during fair time,
| do like everybody else, aud take in travellers.
One must try to be useful to ones fellow crea-
lures, sometimes"
"And to oneself" added Fritz, laughing.
Give minutes after the latter was devouring
the stewed leg of goose, TO which his hunger
impaired all ueedfu relish, and drinking with
great gusto Of the excellent wine set before
him by his hostess.
"Dear Madame Bernardne, for l think that
is the name by which l heard you addressed
few moments ago" said the painter, when he
had finished his supper
Eyes" replied the hostess, 81 90 by that
name, now, because my husband was called
Bernard. am widow"
'Well, then, my dear Madame Bernard, per-
NIT me to inquire where you are going to
lodge me for the night?"
'Alas monsieur, l have nothing in the
shape OF bed to offer you-not even mat
trass p replied the Landaise, in tone of re-
gret for she was sorry to turn away lodger
whose manner pleased her, and who had an
nounced his intention OF prolonging his stay
beyond the time OF the fair.
"rhen, | must 90 and knock at all the
houses, one after the other, until l find
lodging" cried the artist, gaily.
"You will awaken everybody, and that will
be all for every house in the village is as full
as mine"
81 suppose So But what can / do 3? am
very tired with my long days tramp; and
now that your excellent wine is making my
eyelids heavier than ever, | quite envy those
two rosin dealers, who are fast asleep, at fifty
sous apiece. Indeed, think the charge ex
pepdinplV low | woull yillinUlv nay five