Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1877-11-02
K1 THERN.

K1 THERN
The lighl-house stands full seven miles
from land. On every side the waters of Lake
Borgne lie gstening i'll the sunlight; smooth,
except for the surface ripple, in ordinary
weather, but not incapable of foam-crested
waves when the fall tide rolls in from the
| Gulf. driven far up the curving sides 10y fierce
| September gales for, in reality, it has no
genuine title to the name of lake, being moth
| ing more than sheltered bay opening di-
| rectly into the Gulf itself. and susceptible to
all those influences which, upon the larger
/ body of water. write their record year after
year in the wreck of vessels and the total de- |
struction of such small towns ms are built III |
exposed situations along the low and unpro-
tected coast farther South.
Secured however. from these grave disas- |
! ters, both by the confguration of the land |
and the Intervention of number of small |
islands scattered near, the lake by its tranquil |
! aspect seems always to have woOed, with |
moderate success. those lovers of ease and re
tirenent to whom it has been accessible for
the watering places along its shores are as old
as the cities which supply them with visitors,
| and that season is vet to come which shall be-
hold any one of them wholly deserted, either
for the delights of foreign travel the attrac-
tions of more fashionable resorts
Until few years ago the unpretending cot
tages fronting the lake were the property of
habits, yet, presumably, of identical origin
the native Louisianian, descendant of the ear
ly French settler who called himself Gre
ole :" and the Acadian. more universally
known through a corruption of his name. as
the "Cajen." The Creole occupied his cot
tage on the lake shore only during the warm
summer months; the Cajen dwelt in his
throughout the year The Creole claimed to
speak the French of his progenitors. the Ian
gauge of Ia belle FrdHcc the severity of his
discrimination between his own dialect and
the French of the Cajen amounted almost to
n sense OF insult. To this day he admits no
kinship with the descendant of Basil the
blacksmith, knows no name for him but that
of ''the lazy Cajen.' Wherever the latter is
met with, be it in the quiet seclusion Of Prai-
rie du Lait or the Attakapas region, on the
borders of the bayous the shores of the
lakes. he bears the same character, is recog-
nized by the same attribute. stigmatized by
the same epithet. Truth compels me to testi-
fy--though ! mention him but CASUAL y-alike
to its descriptive fitness and to its moral fdel-
ity. Happily for his reputation outside the
narrowed limits of his present home. both his
tory and poetry have chroncled his defense
in the record of that rude transplanting which
placed him here to vegetate where he happen
ed to drop down, but never again TO attach
himself to any spot by stronger ties than those
of mere proprietorship.
The Creole and the Cajen still possess most
of the land, but the old days of monopoly are
over. With that first wave of American i'm
migration which swept over Louisiana after its
purchase, both possessors were quick TO per-
ceive how to render this proprietorship emf
; nently profitable. second cottage sprang
up. for rent close beside the original dwell
; ing and fear that the Creole. as well as the
Cajen, relaxed his hold upon other industries
to tighten his grasp upon this new and easy
source of income. Presently the cottages
were multiplied little villages grew up at the
steamboat landings; small tradesmen were
content to establish themselves there perma-
, nently for the sake of summer profits and
these were neither Creole nor Cajen so that
r now there is scarcely nation of the globe not
A represented Mt some point along that coast
: scarcely Il dialect spoken among civilized peo-
= ple whose accents would not fit some lip in
E that community. More recently it has been
e found profitable to open hotels at various
: points and when these are filled with guests
and the rented cottages have thrown open
i their hospitable doors and are crowded with
. those who come for pleasure or for rest, there
+ is no lack of noisy excitement, no want of
II genuine pavety.
But the life which is not native to the spot
c departs as soon Us the bathing season is over,
c and then the old torpor II turns and rests up
i on all who remain. The hotels are closed; a
o silence broken only by the sound of lapsing
, waves falls upon the beach, so lately gay with
/ the laughter of children and the shouts of the
= bathers. The tide grows fuller, for while,
z under autumnal influences, after which high
/ water mark recedes each day, leaving long
If reaches of sand-bar and shoal water, so that
n boats cease to land at ttheiraccustomed wharves,
=, and passing schooners keep farther of from
" shore
+ No such extremes of variety are brought by
ia the changing seasons to the lighthouse seven
,s miles away. Shall we wonder that the year
e glide on uncounted?
If Viewed from the lighthouse windows in
A search of a limit to the broad expanse the
/, swift circuit is almost completed before the
le eye rests on line of dazzling white, lying tC
ar westward. winter than any cloud, whitel
d than any sail,-which marks the sandy beacl
full seven miles away Above the beach, for
II ever changing from dark to light, from bluisl
=, black to hazy gray, stretches the heavy gloon
- of a belt of woodland There is no more t.
'u be seen, though one should look forever
~ without the spy-glass but that assists the pic
st ture.
~ A village is indicated by cluster of dwell
T. ings and the slender church spre, partly seer
lie between the short -stemmed, thick-foliageC
ic oaks while scattered along the shore, n
V, wider intervals, the pretty rural residences o
he wealthy merchants reveal themselves will
n flower gardens and fanciful summer-houses