Democratic Northwest and Henry County news. [volume] (Napoleon, O. [Ohio]) 1894-1905, 1894-07-12

portions thai elsewhere, and one never
could have believed that there were so
many people in those mountains
At Querterac there was considerable
astonishment, for after few days the
epidemic began TO decrease, but the
mountaineers insisted ON dying. The
townspeople did not understand il, but
they could not help admiring the piety
Of those people above. Every evening
three or four jolting vehicles loaded
with coffins and followed by men and
women in mourning descended slowly
through the ravine, entered the village
and passed silently toward the cemetery.
The shadows of the mournful cortege
in the light Of the glowing fires cast
dark, fantastic pictures ON the walls
The passersby fed at the sight, seized
with fresh alarm. 1t was over a lonely
route that the procession passed to reach
the cemetery, and those poor wretches,
those heather, followed their dead to
their last resting place, when it would
have been so easy to throw the bodies
into the rayines and rivers or to leave
them to the wolves and eagles; but nc,
those wanderers, those aliens, scrupu-
lonsly regarded tie rites of burial
The charge of the custom house at
Querterao is one of great Importance
and generally falls to competent Off
Ger. From this point inspectors, going
to and fro, carefully watch the narrow
valley which is the only easy entrance
from Spain. During the epidemic death
interrupted the routine of duty, for on
some days 20 men fell victims to the
disease, and the survivors, distracted by
the panic, neglected their work.
One man only kept his post, the old
man Valgenod. He always sounded the
final d. He was born custom house
officer. He belonged to that race. He
could smell smuggler three hours be-
fore he saw him, and six miles off
bale of tobacco would make him sneeze
Night and day he kept on his rounds,
declaring that it would be an absurdity
for an old custom man to die of the col
ic, as he called the cholera. The guards
were increased, and Valgenod went the
rounds of those who did not answer to
their names at roll call. Hewas always
watching the mountain, the lair of the
monsters. He knew them every one
those smugglers ON whom he had fred.
so often when he had found them prowl-
ing around the town on some dark night
"Ah, ''said Yalgenod, mot one of them
shaves. Yes, one perhaps. Those fellows
go against my stomach. )"
There was one old man, Father Meri-
tas, gray bearded gypsy, with whorA
Valgenod had frequently come into con-
tact, and each had high opinion of the
cleverness of the other.
"Valgenodr' said Meritas. "The
scoundsel If it were not for himI II he
were only out of the wayp'
"Meritasp' said Valgenod 'The
rogue! The day after my death he will
smuggle Madrid into France"
Meritas was smuggler, as Valgenod
was custom house officer, from tenn
permanent and instinct. 1t was his voca-
tion. Numerous were the tricks that he
invented, the schemes that he devised,
and he was never caught In the caves
of the mountains were hidden bales of
tobacco, cloths, skins, Spanish laces and
| liquors. In some way or another all this
merchandise was gradually smuggled
into France, but how, no one, not even
Valgenod, knew.
1t was the third day Of the epidemic,
just about twilight, that Valgenod,
scenting the winds and looking around,
saw a cart, drawn by broken winded
mule, entering the valley and going
straight toward the gates of the town.
| Behind came Meritas and few ill clad
fellows of his tribe, who were singing
psalms in harsh patois The cart was
arailed one, and in spite of the approach
| ing darkness the sergeant made out the
long shape of coffin.
"Ah," he moaned. "There is suffer-
ing up there too Honest people are not
the only ones to die, see"
He drew himself up to let the process
sion pass and gave the military salute
"a corpse deserved such salute even
though it was one of those reprobates.
Before the walls of the custom house,
Meritas, whose eyes cleaned like two
fires in his pale face, raised his long,
lean arms to heaven and sobbed:
'My wife! My wife! My wife"
Poor old man." said Valgenod, and
he drew match to light his pipe, for
he felt an unusual tenderness creeping
over him.
Two days later another procession
was seen winding around the mountain,
and Meritas was walking behind. This
time there were three coffins in the cart
"Well, now," thought Valgenod,
"these cannot all be his. Perhaps it is a
subscription. -
But the old smuggler was tearing his
beard and shrieking in broken tones at
the top of his voice:
my sons! My sonsl Who can give
ne back M sons?"
The sergeant saluted three times, and
the entire post, drawn out in line along
the open gratings, uncovered pious. 7
before the bitter grief of the distracted
| father.
Every evening at the setting Of the
sun a funeral procession passed through
the town, and Meritas invaribly formed
part Of the cortege. He walked with
friend on each side supporting him, call
ing aloud ON God, blessing the dead and
lamenting his fate. He buried in order
his wife, his sons, his daughters, h
nephews, his cousins. One day he bo-
sought Valgenod to kill him and end his
suffering.
"He is getting silly, and there is
some reason for it, said the sergear'
Struggling his shoulders.
Finally, SO strong is pity, he felt his
former respect grow into love for his old
enemy.
| These funerals continued for three