Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1882-02-24
THE CURE OF CUCUGNAN.


tFrom Alphonse Daudets "Lcttres de Mon Moulin.l
Every year at Candlemas the Proyencal
poets publish at Avignon joyous little book,
filled to overfowing with beautiful verses and
pretty stories l have just received the one
for this year and find an adorable little
fabian in it, which will try TO translate for
you, Rbridging it little in the process.
Able Martin was once cure of Cucugnan.
Good Gs bread, true as gold, he loved his
Cucugnanais paternally; in his opinion, Gu
cugnan would have been an earthly paradise
if his parishioners had only given him little
more spiritual satisfaction. But, alas the
spiders spun their webs in his confessional,
and even upon the glorious festival of Easter
the hosts remained in the bottom of his holy
ciborium. Therefore the good priest was
almost heart. broken and he never ceased 10
beg Of God that he might not die until he had
been able to bring all his erring flock back to
the fold.
Now you will presently see that God heard
his prayer.
One Sunday, Immediately after the gospel,
NJ Martin ascended the pulpit.
my brothers, he said, ''you may believe
me or not, as you please; but l have some
thing strange to tell you. The other night 1,
miserable sinner that am, found myself at
the gate of Paradise.
II raped Saint Peter opened the gate
for me.
Halo so that's you, my dear Monsieur
Martin, he said what good wind blew you
here Anything can do to serve your
Kind Saint Peter replied, you keep
the Great Book and the Key. Could you not
tell me, if you do not think me too curious,
how many of the Cucugnan folks you have
here in heavenT
" Indeed, could not refuse y0u anything
Monsieur Martin. Just take a seat, and well
look over the book together
"And Saint Peter took down his big book,
opened it and put his spectaces on.
Let's see you said Cucugnan, Cu-Cu
-CuCu-Cucugnau. Here we are. My dear
Monsieur Martin the page is all blank. Not
a soul no more Cucugnanais here than there
are fish bones in a turkey =
"'What nobody from Cucugnan here
Nobody? Ah it cannot be possible Please
look again
Nobody at all, holy man. just look for
yourself if you think am joking
"Pecaire l stamped my feet on the floor,
and joined my hands and cried Miseric0rde
Then st. Peter said
Now here, here Listen to me Mon
sieur Martin, you must not excite yourself
that way-you might get bad rush of blood
to the head! after ALL it is no fault of yours.
Your Oucugnansis, you see, must certainly be
quarantined in Purgatory for a little while
"'Ah, mercy's sake, great Saint Peter can
you not tell me how l can see them-just zee
them once and console them ?
Certainly 1 will, my friend Here slip
these sandals on as quick as you can, foE the
roads are rather bad tell you. Yes, that's
right Now, you must take this road right
before you, and go on, on, on. Don't you
see, far off there, where the road turns Well,
you will see on your right hand a great big
silver gate covered with black crosses. Knock,
and they will open it for you. By-bye Take
good care of yourself, and keep your spirits
up
And l walked and walked Lord what
a road it was 1t makes my flesh creep just
to think of it. A little pathway covered with
briars, cleaning carbuncles and kissing ser
pents conducted me at last to the silver gate.
Bang bang
"'Who knocks p cried hoarse and dismal
voice within.
"'The cure of Oucugnan.
"'Of where p
"'Oueugnan.'
"'Ah Come in
81 went in. A tall and handsome angel
with wings black as night and robe resplen-
dent as the day, and diamond key hung to
his belt, was writing ord-orG orG-6rG, in a
book much bigger than that of Saint Peter.
SAT last he stopped. What is it? What
| do you want p asked the angel
" beautiful angel of God, want to know
| (hope you will not think me too curious) If
you have any of the Cucugnanais here ?
"'The whoT
"'The Cuougnanais, the folks of Cucugnan.
1 am their parish priest, you see ?
"'Ah, yss-the Able Martin, believer
CAT your service, sir angel
" You said Cucugnan, did you nOtr
"And the angel opened his big book and
turned over the leaves, wetting his finger
with his saliva once in while SO as TO turn
the leaves quicker.
"'Cucugnan, he said, after a long sigh.
Monsieur Martin, we have nobody from Gu
ougnan in Purgatory.'
=" Jesus Mary Joseph nobody from
Cucugnan in Purgatory o, my God o,
great God, then where are theyP
-" why they are in heaven, of course.
Where the deuce (disntre) else do you sup
pose they could be p
--'' But have just come from heaven
you've just come from there Well,
then p
"'well, then, they are not there All |!
sweet Mother of the Angels
! "'What can you do, then, Monsieur oureS