The Lambertville record. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1872-1968, 1894-06-13
THE SMUGGLER.

On the frontier opposite Spain, like a
dog couchant between two pillars, lies
Querterac, guarding the entrancet to val
ley On the right and left the noun
tains, broken for a space, resume their
monotonous, unending chain. Querterao
is small old fashioned town that was
once fortified. 1t is difficult of access
and has about 6,00o inhabitants.
On the neighboring mountains, re-
garded as neutral, has gathered a popu-
lation as doubtful in morality as in ma
tionality--a confused mixture of Gas
cons, Basques and Catalonians, whose
chief occupations are highway robbery
and smuggling.
About the middle of the present CEN
tury cholera was devastating Spain, It
ally and France.
In the country and in the towns there
was cessation from the activities of
life. The inhabitants barricaded them
selves in vain against the invisible enc
my, which glided treacherously through
half opened doors, locks and unsuspect-
ed openings in roofs and walls. In
Querterac, victim from the first day,
nothing could be seen but deserted
streets and houses closed from top to
bottom. Those who fell in the public
squares had no assistance, for pity was
dead through fear. The civil authori-
ties were disobeyed and despised rs use
less and powerless, no regard being paid
to the official notices that were placard-
ed on the doors and walls.
If fear was great and selfshness hard
in tho city, the country was even more
distracted and cruel. If beggar show
cd himself at tho door of some lonely
farmhouse, he was received with stones
and bullets. The dogs We're set ON him,
and he was maltreated. Perfectly alb
surd stories were circulated among the
country people. They said that cholera
was not so bad as it was reported to be.
Many people who had seemingly died
Of cholera had really been poisoned by
some enemy who had drugged the
water or kneaded arsenic into the bread.
In short, the people in the valley We're
eternally in dread of some hostile ac-
ton on the part of 'those rascals up
above, " as they called tho mixed race
that dwelt IN tho caves and reeesses of
the mountains.
The opportunity was IA good one for
these mountaineers to plumber the flocks
and property of those below, but 'those
rascals up above" never stirred from
their holes. Why?
Well, they also were dying They
seemed to die in more astonishing pro-
portions than elsewhere, and one never
could have believed that there were so
many people i'll those mountains.
At Querterac there was considerable
establishment, for after a few days the
epidemic began to decrease, but the
mountaineers insisted ON dying. The
townspeople did not understand it, but
they could not help admiring the piety
Of those people above. Every evening
three or four jolting vehicles loaded
with collins 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 u 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 ravines and rivers or to leave
them to the wolves and eagles; but no,
those wanderers, those aliens, scrupu-
lousy regarded the rites of burial.
The charge of the custom house at
Querterac is one of great Importance
and generally falls to q 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 90 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 tho
final d. He was born custom house
officer. He belonged to that race. He
could smell q smuggler three hours be-
fore he saw him, and six miles off q
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. He was always
watching the mountain, the lair OF the
monsters. He knew them every one
those smugglers ON whom he had fired
so often when he had found them prowl-
ing around the town on some dark night.
"Ah, 'said Valgenod, mot one Of them
shaves. Yes, one perhaps. Those fellows
go against my stomach. .
There was one old man, Father Meri-
tas, q gray bearded gypsy, with whom
Valgenod had frequently come into con-
,act, and each had high opinion of the
,leverness Of the other.
"Valoenodr" said Meritas. 1.-The
scoundrdTi IF it were not for h1ml Ii ne
were only out Of the way"
"Meritasp' said Valgenod. 'The
roguel The day after my death he will
smuggle Madrid into France"
Meritas was a smuggler, as Valgenod
was custom house officer, from tenn
permanent and instinct. 1t was his voca-
ton. 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 struggled
into France, but how, no one, not even
Valgenod, knew.