The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1886-03-26
A Faithless woman's Work Thirty Years
Of Silence

Down in the rich aluvial delta OF
Louisiana there winds to the tea a
slow brown bayou called the Terre-
bonne from the fertility of the black
loamy land through which it flows.
Big sugar plantations lie along the
course, but near the mouth are the
homes of many Acadians, for this was
one of the streams along which they
settled in Louisiana.
They cultivate little rice farms and
orange groves, and live in summer up.
on their fishing and the produce of
their gardens in winter--upon the
game that abouuds in the marshes.
Since their exile they have forgotten
nothing and have learned nothing.
In among these thriving little farms
is large tract of land, melancholy,
weedy waste. Great forest trees have
grown up in the midst of what were
fair fields that waved with golden rice.
Fences and boundaries long ago rotted
away. The ditches are choked with
grass, and young willows grow along
their line. The whole is matted with
the tangled growth OF the lavish vege-
iation brought up from this fertile soil
by the tropical suns and wild rains.
Sometimes at dusk you will catch a
glimpse of u bent figure skulking
away from the door of ruined cot.
tage whose chimneys have fallen in,
whose roof is a green. pulpy mass OF
lichen, and whose walls totter forward
to a fall. The neighbors will explain
that it is only old Allandn, the wild
man.
If you will lie in wait about this
hour of the day, concealed in the under
brush, you may catch closer glimpse
of him. lie looks 20, but is not really
so old. His once tall form is bent, and
he walks with the quick creeping
movements of an animal. Long gray
hair hangs in fifty matted locks to his
waist and mingles with his great
sweeping beard. Two large dark eyes
gaze out from a wrinkled, pallid fac
through the rough hair with a glare
like cat. His hands are like rough,
knotted claws, and his whole body has
a growth of coarse hair upon it. His
only covering is pair of brown blank
cts, through which a hole has been
torn to admit his head, and he creeps
silently away every night into the
forest swamps. This is the story the
neighbors tell
Thirty years ago there was no more
prosperous farm in the parish than
that of Etienne Alanoin, and no more
respected man than its rich young
owner. He was alone in the world
with the exception of some distant
cousins, but his friends we're many,
and he was betrothed to pretty
young girl who was to marry him in
the next March.
His face was plain, except for his
splendid dark eyes, but he had a
warm, gentle heart, and was a fine
parti, so that he would not have asked
any parent round for twenty miles for
their daughter in vain. According to
old Acadian usage he built new
house that winter, spending loving care
upon the nest that was to hold his lit
tie mate.
The wedding day approached. The
happy bridegroom made ready the
cor6eiUe, as was usual, only his gifts
were the most splendid ever seen in
that simple neighborhood. The we'd
ding gown was of real white silk, the
veil, wreath of wax orange flowers,
with the white shoes and gloves. had
come all the way from New Orleans.
He rose early thai lovely March
morning, apd arrayed himself carefully
in his black, shiny clothes, casting
tender, amused glances at the feminine
garments lying on that pride of every
Acadan woman's heart, a plump,
strong bed with rutfled pillows. He
was making up parcel of these gar
ments ready to be carried to the bride
when an embarrassed and sympathetic
delegation came to inform hun that
the bride had disappeared She had
eloped with handsome young good
for-naught who had been refused by
her parents, and had left not word
for her betrothed. Allandin stood
like man stunned; then he turned
every one out, and shut himself in
with his ruined happiness.
Soon the neighbors whispered that
the new house was empty and Allan
din had gone away to the swamp.
From that day he never spoke to any
human being. All day the man hid
in his house, and with nightfall went
to the forest, and like a wild beast
sought his food Crawfisb, lizards,
field mice, and birds, eaten raw, were
his sustenance. His hair and beard
grew long and tangled, his clothes
fell to pieces. and a blanket be-
came his only garb In. all these
thirty years he has never spoken, and
now he knows no human language.
his only sounds are few inarticulate
cries and be shurs his kind like hunt
ed animal. The sympathetic Acadians
have never disturbed him, and at
nights when they hear a faint echo
from the swamps of wild human
cry, they look sadly at each other.