San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1890-09-20
THE OUTLANDISH LADIES

A mile beyond the fishing village, as you
follow the road that climbs inland up the
coomb, the two tall hills to right and left
diverge to make room for a third, set like
a wedge in the throat of the vale. Here
the road branches into two, with sign
post at the angle; and between the sign
post and the gray scarp Of the hill there
lies an acre of waste ground that the
streams have turned into n marsh. This
is Loose heels. Long before | learned the
names meaning, in the days when trod
the lower road with slate and satchel to
and from the village school, this spot was
a favorite of mine-but chiefly in July,
when the monkey flower was out and the
marsh adame with it.
There was a spell in that yellow blossom
with the wicked blood red spots that held
desperate places So that, day after day,
when July came round, my mother would
cry shame on my small clothes, and my
father take exercise upon them, and all
the month / went tingling. They were
pledged to break me of it," but they
never did. Now they are dead, and the
howers-the flowers last always, as Victor
Hugo says. When after many years l re-
visited the valley, the stream had carried
the seeds half a mile below Loose heels,
and painted its banks with monkey bios
SONS all the way. But the finest, was
glad to see, still inhabited the marsh.
Now it is rare to find this plant growing
wild, for in fact it is a garden flower
And its history here is connected with a
bit of mud wall, ruined and covered with
MOSES and ragwort, that still pushed up
from the swamp Sind when | knew it,
and bad once been part of a cottage. How
a cottage came here, and how its inhabi-
tants entered and went out, are questions
past guessing; for the marsh hemmed it in
on three sides, and the .ourth is slope of
hill fit to break your back. But there was
the WALL and here is the story.
One morning, near the close of the last
century, small child came running down
to the village with news that the cottage,
which for ten years had stood empty, was
let; there was smoke coming out at the
chimney and an CIti&ndish lady walking
in the garden Being catechised he added
that the lady wore bassOmy bows in her
cap, and had accosted him in a heather
tongue that caused him to flee inconti-
uently, fearing worse things. This being
told, two women, rulers of their homes,
sent their husbands up the valley to spy,
who found the boy had spoken truth.
Smoke was curling from the chimney
and in the garden the lady was still NOV
ing about-a small, yellow creature, with
a wrinkled but pleasant face, white curls
and piercing black eyes. She wore black
gown, cut low in the neck, a white kerr
chief, and bassomy Tor purplish) bows in
her cap, as the child had stated. Just at
present she was busy with a spade, and
showed an ankle passing neat for her age
rs she turned up the neglected mold.
When the men plucked up gallantry
enough to offer their services she smiled
and thanked them in broken English, but
said that her small forces would serve.
So they went back to their wives; and
their wives, recollecting that the cottage
formed part of the glebe, went off TO in
quire of ParsOn North, than whom" as
the tablet to his memory relates, none
was better to castigate the manners of the
age" He was bury, hard riding ruffian,
and the tale of his great fight with Gypsy
Ben in Launceston streets is yet told on the
country side.
Parson North wanted TO know if he
couldn't let his cottage to an invalid lady
and her sister without consulting every
washmouth in the parish.
"Aw, so there's twop' said one of them,
holding her head. But tell US, parson
dear, eff ties fifty for two minated women
to come trapesing down In a po'shay at
dead o. night, when all modest flesh be in
their bed gowns"
Upon this the parsons language became
not merely violent, but grossly indelicate,
after the fashion OF those days. He closed
his peroration by siamming the front door !
on his visitors, and they went down the |
hill "blushing las they said) all over at his |
intimate words.
So nothing more was known of the |
strangers But it WAS noticed that Parson
North, when he passed the cottage on his |
way to meet or market, would pull up his |
mare, and if the outlandish lady were
working in the garden would dOff his hat |
respectfully.
bon jour, Mamzelle Henriette'-this |
was all the French the parson knew. And |
the lady would smile back and answer in |
English:
Good morning, Parson North"
And Mamzelle Lucille2"
"Ah, just the same, my !GodI All the Gay |