The morning call., 1893-06-11

used tc come in from all parts of the
district talking of nothing but of the Chin
Fou, the mad dog that was securing the
land and against whom they had armed
themselves. Then, 1 ran TO Memo, my
ster-mother,' and rlung 10 her skirts
and lay awake at nights, trembling, as
thought of the Chin Fou and of the terri
Bile weapons that the men carried, be-
cause thev. strong, black-bearded men.
were as frightened of MIN as the quaking
little wretch who started at every sound
that the wind made in the caves of the old
house. Where l lay in bed | could hear
rough voiced as they sat round the inn ta-
bleS drinking lemonade, for the PrOvencal
is so excitable by nature that mere lemon
ade acts upon him like strong drink. and
1t was the Chin FOu and nothing else that
they talked about.
But what brought nv horror to a cIi-
max and left an ineffaceable impression
Cd me was that one day l nearly met the
mad dog 1t was summer evening, | re-
member, and | was walking h0me, carry
ing little basket, along a path white with
dust through thick vines. Suddenly |
heard wild cries, 'Aou Chin Fou, aou Chin
Fou.' Then came a discharge of guns
Mad with terror l jumped into the vines,
rolling head over ears as lay there una
bic to stir finger. heard the dog go by as
II hurricane were passing. heard his
fierce breath and the thunder of the
before him. and my heart stopped beat
ing IN paroxysm Of terror. which is the
strongest emotion that have ever felt in
all my life. Since then l have an absolute
horror OF dogs, and, by extension, indeed
of all animals. People have reproached
me for this, and say that poet cannot dis
like animals. L can't help it. | hate them
all. / think they are what is ugly and vile
IN nature. They are caricarures of all TIL at
is most loathsome and base in man; they
are the latrines of humanity. And, curl
iously enough. all my children have inher-
ted this same horror for dogs.
II remember that at l9, when ] was
down in the valley of Chevreuse not far
from Nine. Adams place at Gif, the recol-
lection of that afternoon. came upon me so
strongly that, borrowing Victor Hugo's
title, | wrote the Forty Days of a Con-
| demned Man. in which l desired to depict
day by day the sensations of man who
been bitten by mad dog. This work
made ME i'll, neuropatn. Before | had
finished writing it l had grown to believe
that | indeed had been bitten, and the re-
suit was that my horror and dread were
confirmed. The sight of dog is
to-day still enough to distress me
exceedingly. This phenomenon makes me
think, what have noticed before and re-
peatedy that comparing man to a book,
he Is set up in tyre at very early age,
and that in after life it is onv new editions
of him that are printed. by which | mean
that mans character and habits are crys-
tallZed while he is still very young man
and that in after life he only goes through
the same phases of emotion over and over
again.
"Other souvenirs of my youth? Well,
the Homeric battles that we children of
the town used to have. Nismes is divided
into Huguenot and Roman Catholics, and
each party hated each other as keenly as
they did in France on the day of St.
culinary eve. The feud was as keen
between the children of the town, and
many were the battles with stones that we
fought out in the streets. | have on my
forehead to this day the cicatrice of a
wound which / received from a Huguenot
stone in one of those fights. | have de-
scribed these fights in 'Numa Rnumestan,'
and here let me tell you that Numa Rou-
mestan is Alphonse Daudet. 1t was said
that he WAS Gambetta. Nothing of the
sort. Numa R0umestan is Alphonse
Daudet with all his foibles and what
strength he may nave.
My father had seventeen children, but
only three lived to grow up. Ernest and a
SISTER, VINO married the brother of my wife.
1 only-knew one of the others, being one
the younger children. That was my
brother Henri. l shall never forget the
day when the news of his death reached
home. 1t came by telegram He is dead.
Pray God far him. My father rose from
The table and CRED He is dead He is
dead. He Is dead His gesture, his in
t0nation. which had something of ancient
tragedy about it, impressed me profoundly
and / remembered that all that night | lay
awake trying to initiate my fathers voice.