Morning journal and courier., 1889-12-28


 most trivial wages or portions of grain, con- | vey products and merchandise to and from | the towns Of the ooasts; the wood-choppers l of the mountains, lazily engaged in feliing | trees for the manufacture of orange boxes; | and the carboneiros who are found in the i highest mountain forests quite as lazily em- 1 ployed in burning the charcoal used in cook l ing by the aristocracy of the cities. With 1 these divisions of the Azorean peasantrY 1 may be counted the rush-gatnerers of tho mountain tarns; the osier-cutters who supply l the basket makers of the towns; the furze- 1 gatherers who dot the dreariest mountain heights; the fern and rush cutters who sup ply the churches and homes with fragrant branches for strewing on holy and feast days; and the wood-gleaners who gather dead limbs at will in the forests of estates and among the mountain wilds both for the use of the peasantry and the humber classes of the towns. Among all these people is not a single implement or utensil invented within the past thousand years; an ordinary Ameri- methods in one day more than score of any of these; and the wizard-brush of the paint CT of Barbazon never fastened upon canvas more startlingly anciept ways, wares, pos- lures and ploddings among the clods of Britt tany, than remain universal and changelees among the bright eyed but changeless folk of these entrancing mountain wales.
 There is a careless, alf-joyous abandon upon the surface of all Azorean peasant toll which adds greatly to it's picturesqueness. Join with this, quaintness in dress, primi- tiveness of implements, that grace which un- varyingly accompanies innocent ignorance, and the universal loveliness of scenery, and your pastorial pictures are most idyllic and complete. Ground is titled with oxen, tan dem, in rush traces drawing plough of the sort first known to man-three tree-crook or cba Now and than yyf11 find one rudsly pointed with iron. One short furrow is scratched amid tremendous shout ings. Then the half dozen who have clung to the handles, rode upon the beam, or goad ed the oxen, rest by the fower-laden hedge or division-wan to enjoy siesta or the de- lights of countryside gossip with passing goatherds or muleteers. Where the hillside is too steep for this gentle process, long-han- dled holes with cumbrous blades do lazy du- ty; for the spade is rejected as a contrivance of the evil one. All American cereals grow here in luxuriance for mere pricking of the soil. The small grains are gathered,a a hand- full at time, cut by the olden sickle, and gleaners follow as in the Bible days. Corn is cut, or pulled, the blades preserved for fodder, the stalks munched by goats or don- keys, or used for fires, the ears strung to- gether and hung upon pyramidal lattice work tor curing, and, finally, the kernels re. moved from the cobs by the cottiers and children who receive the cob, for burning, in payments score of merry stragglers being required to house the product of one acre of ground, and every one of these working. or making pretense of work, in that care-free, need nothing way that marks all toll and eff fort here, Wheat and barley are threshed precisely as they were 5000 years ago. At every roadside, round, high piles of pumiced lava beaten and rain-soaked until hard as stone, may be seen These, called eiras, are the Azorean threshing floors. The grain is piled upon them and cows and oxen, blind folded, are driven around these in opposite directions until the treading has released the kernels. There is no other method of thresh ing grain in these islands; and the flaming mill is unkown. The straw is lifted off the eiras with wooden forks and preserved for the food of donkeys and goats. Then flag is hoisted to find the direction of the wind. This done, men and women, but more often women and girls. standing at the side from whence comes the wind, throw the grain and chaff into tho-air,- -aad-She- -olaaH is borno- away. Nor is this done as if the fair work CTS knew the meaning of labor. Down there by the sea acres of linen made from the aa- tive flax is spread upon the flat rocks, or drawn smoothly upon bright, brown beach, es. It looks like Gipsy camp. Scores ot women and children, bsreheaded, bare leg ged and bare breasted, their gaily coiored clothiag contrasting prettily with the olive of their faces, wade into the sea knee-deep, fill their ewers or casks with the flashing brine and gracefully struggling back among the lines pour water upon the whitening cloth, while singing songs that echo back from the cliff and blend melodiously with the music of the waves along the shore. If these creatures know care you cannot find it in their ways or work Where that river comes bawling and sprawling down from the gorge along the shelving beds of lava is another bevy of women. These are more nearly naked than the bleachers at the shore below. Behind them, like long line of Notifications is row of huge osier baskets, nearly their own height Some have been brought on donkeys' backs, some on womens' heads and backs. Bat each held more than 100 pounds of wet, lye-soaked clothing; for these are the Azorean lavandeirss or washerwomen; and they will spank those flat rocks with those garments, souse them, wiring them, beat them with paddles, until they are white as snow, but with more chattering, gossip and singing than downright labor, the whole day long. If anything like energetic labor is ever known in the Azores it is at this season of the year among the orange pickers and packers, in getting this lucious fruit ready for shipment to the American and English markets. Each orange is wrapped in an odorous corn husk-you can always know an Azorean orange by this wrapping-and the
  will proceed in this work among the pictur- esque crowds which comprise the orange pickers, is winsomely marvellous indeed.
 The home-life of the Azorean peasant if not always radiant one, never lacks cheeri- ness, affection and simple content. He knows no other life better than his own and is satisfied with what he has and gets to the end of his days. The cottage or cabin or hut is simply a square constructure built of lava rock thatched with furze or tiles. The win dows and doors are never closed, for there are neithering cold blasts nor robbers to en- ter. The bare earth is the floor. He re- ouires no stove. His fire place for cooking Is simply a slab, waist high in the wall, and the smoke kindly takes care of itself. His. stable food is meal bread fast day. feast day, five times day. Egge, chickens and goats milk are almost without value, and salt fish and wine are his luxuries. His wife is duti- ful, his children beautiful. As the lowly go they are all cleanly, if the chickens do perch in the loft, the pig insist on domestic companionship, and his goats choose the in side of the house at night. He lives glori- ously in his way without severe effort. His wife and children are loyal and never gada- bouts He is true to his religion, his home, his friends; and he is never too old to love the guitar or mandolin. or to join with his wife in the innocent dances to the numbers of his beloved island music. If he is ailing unto deatn the cnutcn comSs .o nim, scariee~ robed and allaufieient, with it's, to him, saving santissimo, and he passes to his sim pie heaven from a heaven of every day con- tent. To my dying day shall remember him and his sea-girt lands, their fruits and flowers, their scents and songs, their lovely valley homes, their shepherds' larkelike pip ings upon the heights, not as something truly of this work a. day world but,as those things that poets' fancies know and place in dream ful isles of peace.
 EDGAR l.. WAKEMAN. 5
 
 CONVENIENT.