The Corvallis gazette. [volume] (Corvallis, Or.) 1862-1899, 1895-12-26
NONA.

4NO4N11s
Some years ago passed several weeks
ut a fishing village on the coast OF Brit
tany What hole it wasl But how
picturesquel A miserable anchorage,
for ten boats at the most, single stony
street, which can compare to nothing
better than a mountain torrent. On top
of the hill a church, veritable gothic
toy, which stood in the middle of a
cemetery from which a magnificent
view of the ocean was obtained. Find
ing myself in the vein for work, lin
gered in this out of the way corner until
the end of the month of September,
which by rare chance in rainy Finis-
tere, was that year exceptionally mild
and clear.
But one cannot always compose verses
and write, and walk was my hygiene
and my distraction. My most frequent
promenade was along the beach, having
on my right the bleak and rocky cliffs
and on my left the uncovered stretches
of sand-an immense desert of sand left
bare by the outgoing tide. Two or three
times had exchanged civilities with
some custom house officer going his
rounds, his gun slung over his shoulder.
was so regular and peaceful prone
nader that the sea swallows were no
longer afraid of me and hoped in front
of me, leaving the print Of their star
shaped feet in the wet sand. walked
six or eight kilometers day and re-
turned home with my pockets filed with
those dainty shells which are found by
burying the hand deep Down in the
damp pebbles
This was my favorite excursion.
However, on the days when a strong
breeze was blowing and the tide was
very high abandoned the seashore, and
climbing the village street I stro1led
along the sandy moor, or else settled
myself with a book on bench in cor
ner of the cemetery, which was shelter
ed by the church tower from the west
end
Itwas lovely spot, conducive to sad
ness and revery. The church tower
stood out against the autumn sky, over
which dark clouds were scurTying
Crows, whose nests were in the steeple,
flew out with their hoarse cawing, and
the shadow Of their large wings gIided
over the scattered tombstones, almost
hidden in the grass.
In the evening more than at any 9TH
er time, the last rays of the setting sun
bathing the sea as though with blood,
the ragged branches of the skeleton of
an old apple tree si1houetted against the
crimson sky and the deep intense still
ness Of the wild home of the dead flood
ed my soul with melancholy.
1t was on such an evening as I have
just described that, wandering among
the tombs, many of which bore under
the sailors name this mournful legend,
"Died at sea, ~ read on a new cross
the following words, which astonished
and puzzled me: Here reposes Mona
LIE Maguet. Died at sea Oct. 26, 1878,
at the age of 1917
Died at seal A young grill Women
hardly ever go out in the fishing boats
How did this happen?
''Well, monsieur" said gruff voice
behind me suddenly, "you are looking
at poor Nona's tomb?"
turned around and recognized an old
sailor, with a wooden leg, whose good
graces had acquired by the aid of
few glasses of brandy, which had Civ
en- him in the taproom at the inn.
eyes," replied. "But I thought
that you fishermen never permitted
women to go out with you. I have even
been told that they bring you misfor-
tune"
''And that is the TRUTH" responded
the good man. Besides, Mona never
went into boat. Would you like to
know how the poor little one died?
Well, will tell you.
''First Of all, must tell you that
Pierre, her father, was a topman, like
myself, and an old comrade. At Bour-
get, when Admiral La Ronciere raised
his golden helmet on the point of his
saber, and we flung ourselves, hatchet
in hand, on the embattled houses, we
marched elbow to elbow, Pierre and I,
and it was he who received me in his
arms when those cursed Prussians put
ball in my thigh. That same evening in
the ambulance at the fort Pierre held
my hand to give me courage while the
surgeon amputated my limb, and he
was there at my bedside when the ad-
miral brought me my medal But those
rascally Prussians got the best of us,
and we were sent home. I, with my
wooden leg, was practically helpless
But Pierre, who was uninjured, hired
on board a fishing smack. Very soon
afterward his wife died from an inter-
mittent fever, leaving him the care of
little Mona, who was going on 10 years
Of age.
Naturally while the widower was at
sea it was I, his comrade, I, the old
bachelor, who cared for the little one.
She was good and pretty child, mon
sieur; courageous and sweet tempered.
We very often went to the rocks at low
tide to gather turtles, shrimps, prawn,
and sometimes we were fortunate enough
to find a lobster. All, but we were good
friendsl
''This went on for about two years.
Mona had made her first communion,
grown and shot up like thistle in the
sand. But one day the Amelia, LIE
Maguet s boat, was overtaken in storm
and wrecked The skipper did not haul
in his sail soon enough, and the boat
struck on that reef you can see over