The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1893-01-22
Observation-Disclosures
ODD INCIDENTS OF FOREIGN
TRAVEL AND OB8ERvATION-Iv.

One Way Thomas Carlyle Took Exer-
cise-The Os:raclzed Cagots of the
Pyrenees-A Radiently Peaceful Au-
tumn Picture Along the silvery
Tweed-W elrd Pagan Monuments of
Cernac.
Copyright, 1881
PARIS, Jan. british pensioners in old
Chelsea hospital, London, when desiring to
be particularly sarcastic regarding the
quality Of their food. say that "every sheep
killed for Chelsea has nine breasties l"-
that Is, somehow the officers MISSES secure
all the legs of mutton, while pensioner pri-
Yates get only the ribs and brlskets How
ever this may be, the record is for long life
TO the pensioner after he enters this
noble monument TO the generosity of
pretty Nell Gwynne. There is one old
fellow, William Merrill, late of the
Thirty-first Foot, who has seen over forty
years actual service in the British army
and who has been pensioner at Chelsea
for nearly a quarter of century. He Is
now in his 93d year. and is not only as spry
as many youths Of 20, but he also enjoys
peculiar distinction.
He has been chased, so Chelseans relate,
more miles by irate Thomas Carlyle, than
liy any foe afield. These gay old pensioners
haunt the shadowy lanes and avenues of
Chelsea for new larking grounds at public
houses, or for grateful gossipings with glib
tongued housemaids and ancient ''Uncle
William" formed a decided fondness for
red-cheeked serving woman employed at
"a, formerly 5. Great Cheyne row. the home
OF the great philosopher and scold. Uncle
William" took up his station unabashed
at Carlyles house area railing until the
grizzled author Of "Sartor Resartusn could
stand it no longer. lie ent down to him
aud expostulated. The British son of Mars
answered in no humble spirit. Beside him
self with rage, Carlyle grabbed his walking
stick, and chased Uncle William to the very
hospital bounds. The next day, serene ana
calm, the pensioner was found in bis accus-
toned place. Carlyle sailed forth again.
Thereafter, until the houssmaid was given
her wages and character. these daily
retreats aud pursuits we're offered as inspirr
ating scenes to Cheseans. 'We could
almost set our clocks by Them" rel ted one
good old lady. land often thought it was
fine exercise both for Uncle William and
Carlyle. dear saulsn
In my various wanderings in Southern
France and Northern Spain [ have come
among a folk who, according to the super
stitious belief of other peasantry of the
regions, are regarded as outlawed souls, de-
barred from mingling with other human
kind, because of some old, long ago physical
curse or taint placed by devil-leaRued spirits
upon their ancestors They live among the
Pyrenees, and Aquitenian mountains and
valley countries both sides of them, especial
ly in Spanish Galicia, Navarro, Huesos.
Serbia and Corona, in the French Heutes
Pyrenees, Gascony, Guienns, Poitou, and
sparsely in Brittany. The strange folks are
called Cagots.
TIE Daroo is dariyad Srov,, co., 40 Coybso,,e
or Gothic dog. For long time these peo-
pie were confounded with the Cretins, those
goitered, Tickety and leDrous dwarfs of
Northern Spain and Southern France. But
the Cegots are another folk entirely. They
have large, bOny, muscular forms, we'll
shaped skulls, almost Grecian noses, fine,
blonde hair, blue eyes and fair, pinky com
plexions, with large but expressive mouths
and regular, perfect teeth It is believed
that the Csgots descended from the Aryan
Goths. Wherever they live away from the
Pyrenees, in France and Spain, these marked
and stunned people are variously called
Calliberts, Caquins, Cacoss and Cahets.
For ] 200 years they were superstitiously
avoided by all other inhabitants near them.
They we're desplsed, prosecuted, NAL
treated, regarded socially aud legally as
Outcssts, and the superstition of darker
times attributed to them all manner of foul
ness. They we're believed to be witches
nuveiros. or raisers of the storms and tenn
pests, the Spanish peasantry called them.
Every dark deed possible was within their
power. They emitted noxious odors. They
bred pestilences and epidemios. They were
companions of cats and owls. and could see
in the night like them. They we're COM
pletely and absolutely ostracized, and COM
PEELED to live alone, or in quarters
by themselves, and In towns
and cities whenever they made
their appearance, they were obliged
to wear scarlet cloth, that all
others might avoid them. Down until the
seventeenth century it was not considered a
crime to kill CGgot, il he offended.
Perhaps it is the wizard witchery of
Scott, as a poet and novelist, perhaps the
radiant romance of all Scottish borderland,
but you never tire Of tender Tweedvale and
Its s~eetly flowing stream. You are not
the first to feel this. sThe old monks
loved the valley and dotted the
Tweedside with splendid monasteries.
Their grazing lands were the richest; their
cattle the finest; their grain Of the plumpest
Kernel; their fruit the sweetest in all Britain.
Tradition has it that the fioe old apple
orchards still standing here were planted
by these cowled and sandled folk. That
must have been hundreds Of years ago. But
these rare old trees are big, gnarled and
gray enough for that. Little hamlets have
grown up within and about these ancient
orchards. Weavers' villager they once we're.
The clack of the dusty loom is now still
out they are quaint old nests housing quaint
OLD folk, who have ripened and mellowed in
These sunny places along the Tweed, until
they mt into their orchard environments as
the orchards themselves blend with the rest
tul landscape.
IL you have wandered up and down the
tweed perhaps OF all these brae side nests
you have found Gattonside, by Melrose,
tne dreamiest and quaintest. Leaving the
glorious abbey to your right you saunter
along shadowy road overarched with
scotch frs and beeches, cool and fragrant.
On the one side Is ancient ST. CuthberPs
ana moss-grown mill and dam. Tiny
nelds with tidily stocked grain rise in
patches OF yellow, gray and green on the
oVuer AT the end OF the vista now and
then flashes the blue of the Tweed. Then
an oid suspension bridge is crossed. Above
anu below anglers stand waist deep in the
river, and few carts are taking gravel
from its shining bed.
"A httle farther on groups OF old peasant
CCohen, pauting now and shen to bless the
CoVenanters or boil a new bree from a
uIa scandal, are cutting thistles and weed;
WIN slokles at the waterside. These BRAN
oies Will be dried to help piece out the
meegert fuel in the near winter days. AZ
tspe village edge the road ends; or rather
s1eu9s lnto score Of century-beaten paths
nationwide has no street. Zach OF It's
ssuatehed houses, as If withga touch Of
leh oostinacy. sets It's face toward IT.