Santa Fe daily New Mexican. [volume] (Santa Fe, N.M.) 1885-1897, 1895-06-26

there-just little more to the star
board. There were four men in the crew
the skipper, two sailors and my poor
Pierre. But the sea only gave up three
Of the drowned men and retained my
comrade. Mona became an orphan. 1t
goes without saying that did my best
to replace her father. But the child,
even after the first sorrow passed away,
did not seem to console herself. And do
you know why, monsieur? Because Of
an idea all the women around here have
They believe that soul must remain in
pain unto the judgment day unless it re.
poses in consecrated grotSid. We men
do not believe in all this nonsense when
we know what happens when there is a
death on board ship. But Mona could
not be forced to believe other than the
women had taught her and continued to
burn candles at all the pardons in the
neighboring towns for the repose Of her
fathers soul
However, in spite of everything,
time is q famous merchant Of forgetful-
ness, and Mona after few years ap-
peared to me to become somewhat rec
onciled. Besides, her grief had not pre-
vented her from growing handsomer and
taking pride in herself, and it is not
because loved her like father, but,
upon my honor, she was the freshest
and prettiest young girl in the parish.
We lived so happily together. We were
not rich, to be sure, but we lived, and
we enjoyed ourselves all the same. I
had my pension and my medal, and
then we used to go together to hunt for
Holsters in the rocks. The trade is a
paying one, and there is only one danger,
that of being overtaken by the tide.
All, unfortunately that how she
met her death, poor little one!
Zone day when my rheumatism con-
fined me to the house she went fishing
alone. It was just such day as today,
the sky clear, the wind high. When the
rock searchers gathered together with
full baskets, they perceived that Mona
failed to respond to their calls. There
was no possible doubt. Great God, she
had been delayed and surrounded by the
rising tide! She had been drowned
All, what night I passed, monsieur
At my age, yes, hard hearted man
like me, l sobbed like woman. And
| the remembrance came to me Of the
poor child's belief that to go to heaven
she must be inferred in consecrated
ground Therefore as soon as the tide
went down went to the shore, and,
with the others, searched for the body.
"And we found poor Nona," con-
tinued the old sailor in trembling
voice. "We found her on rock covered
with seaweed, where, knowing that she
was going to die, the poor little one had
prepared herself for death. Yes, mon
sieur, she had tied her skirts below the
| knees with her fichu, through modesty,
and with her old idea uppermost had
attached herself to the seaweed by her
hair, her beautiful black hair, certain
that she would thus be found and in
tered in consecrated ground. And l can
say, l, who know what bravery is, that
| there is perhaps not a man bravo enough
| to do likewise.
The old man was silent. By the last
CLEAN of the twilight 1 saw two great
tears rolling down his weather beaten
cheeks. We descended to the village side
by side in silence. I was profoundly
touched by this simple girls courage,
who, even in the agonies Of death, had
retained the modesty Of her sex and the
piety of her race, and before me in the
distant immensely, in the solitudes Of
the heavens and the sea, CLEANED out
the beacon lights and the stars.
Oh, brave men Of the sea! Oh, noble
Brittany From the French of Francois
Coppee For Romance.