The evening tribune. (Pawtucket, R.I.) 189?-190?, 1896-12-09
A TALE OF PONTIAC.

You may hear Mathurins story from
almost any tale teller In the province of
Quebec, where every parish has it's profess
sional raconteur and where every man Is
an amateur. But you will hear 1t told
with most fitting sympathy and imagina.
tion, at the besSing of the fax, in the lit
tie valley beside Dalgrothe mountain.
That is perhaps because of the woman
who tells 1t. And when Antoinette Mar
motto, who has a voice like bird, sings q
verse or two of the song they call "Mathu-
rim, the Master of the School, to the beat
of the hammers upon the flax, the women
pause in their work and weep in silly
sort of way, without shame.
The tale was told to me In the little val
ley one September moSping. Far and near
one could see the swinging Of the fail, and
the laughter of a ripe summer was upon
the land. There was little Calvary down
by the riverside where the flax beaters
used TO say their prayers in the intervals
of their work, and 1t was just at the foot
of this that Angelo Rouyier, having fin
ished her prayer, put her rosary in her
pocket, wiped her eyes with the hem of her
petticoat and said to me:
"Ah, that poor Mathurinp'
could not guess at first why she spoke
30 at the moment, but presently it dawned
upon me that she had been praying for the
repose of Mathurin's SOUL though he had
been ut least 100 years dead and she had
never known him. But tradition and
memory are sweet to her race, and perhaps
something in her own life that day had
recalled to her the apooryphal Scripture
according to Mathurin, for some of these
stories and legends lie as near to the heart
of the race of Angelo as Job or Isaiah lies
to your lives and mine; perhaps nearer,
because Angelo and her race are closer to
the honest earth, from which good stories
spring.
"Ah, that poor Mathurinl I wipe my
eyes for him." she said TO me again.
"Tell me all about him, won't you,
Nine Angelo? ] want to hear you tell
about 1t, }" added hastily, for saw that
she would despise me If showed igno-
rance Of Mathurin's story. Her sympathy
with Mathurin's memory was real, but
her pleasure at the compliment conveyed
in my request was also real.
"Ahl 1t was ver' long time ago--yes.
My gran 'mudder she remember dat Ma
thurin ver' we'll. He Is not ver' big man,
not so bigger as yourse'f He has a face
oh, not ver' handsome, not 80 moro hand.
some as youre-noni His clothes they hang
on him all loose, his hair IL is all some
gray, and IL blows about his head. He is
clean of the face, no beard, no nosing like
dat. But his eye, oh, m'sieu', his eyel 1t
Is like coal which you blow in your hand,
whewl All brightl My gran 'mudder she
say: 'Voilal You can light your pipe with
the eyos Of dat m's:eu'.' She knows She
say dat M'sieu' 0.athurin's eyes they
shine in the dark. My gran ladder he says
he not need any lights on his carriole when
Mathnrin ride with him In the dark.
"Vraiment, 1t is all YER true what tell
you all the time. II you cut of Mathurin
at the chin all the way up, you would say
the top Of him it IL a priest. All the way
down from his neck, II you let 1t stan, oh,
he Is just no better as yourself or my Jean,
non. He is q ver' good man. Only one bad
ting he do Dat is why I pray for him;
dat is why everybody pray for him-only
one bad ting. Saprie! II I have only one
ting to say God have mercy for, t'ink
dat ver' good, do my penanoe happy.
Well, dat Mathurin him use to teach the
school. The cure he Is ver' fond of him.
All the leetla Children, boys and girls.
they all say, 'C'est bon Mathurin.' He is
not ver' cross, non. He have no wife-no
4
he Is ver' good friends with every body in
Pontiac. When he go long the street, ev-
erybody say, 'Ah, there go the good Ma
thurin.' He laugh, he tell story, he smoke
q leetla, he take a leetla white wine benin
the door-dat is nosing non.
"He have in the parish g. 10, 90 chill
dern all call Mathurin. He Is godfadder
with them-yes So he go about with
plenty of sugar and sticks of candy In his
pocket. He never forget once the age of
every leetla child which call him godfad-
der. He have q brain dat work like
clock. My gran'fadder he say dat Mathu-
rim have machine in his head. It make
the words make the thoughts, make the
fine speech, like the cure, make the gran
poetry-oh, yes.
"When the king Of Englan' go to sit on
the throne, Mathurin write ver' nice verse
to him. And by and by there come to Ma
thurin q letter-voila, dat is q letter! 1t
has 1, 2, 3, 30 seals, and the king he say
to Mathurin, 'Merci mile fois m 'sieu
You are ver' polite. thank you. will
keep your verses to tell me dat my French
subjects are all loyal like NJ Mathurin.
Dat is ver' nice; but he is not proud-non'
He write six verses for my gran 'mudder-
helm! Dat Is something He write two
verses for the king of Englan, and he write
six verses for my gran mudder, you see.
He go on so, dis week, dat week, dis year,
dat year-all the time.
"Well, by and by there Is trouble in
Pontiac. 1t Is YER great trouble. You see
there is a fight against the king of Eng
lam, and dat is too bad. 1t Is not his fault.
He Is ver' nice man. 1t is the bad men
who make the laws for the king in Quebec.
Well, one day, all over the country every
body take him gun and the leetla bullets
and say, Il will fight the soldier of the
king of Englan' like dat. ver' we'll,
there were 90 men in Pontiac, ver' nice
men-you will find their names cut in
stone on tho church, and then, three times
ss big, you will find Mathurin's name.
All, dat Is the ting. You see, dat rebellion
you English call tive call the war of the
patriot-we,l, you call It what you like,
quelle difference. The king of Englan'
smash him patriot war all to pieces. Then
there are 10 men of the 90 come back to
Pontiac ver' sorry. They are not happy;
nobody Is happy. All their wives cry, all
their children they are afraid. Some peo.