The Press. (Stafford Springs, Conn.) 1883-1935, 1898-02-03
A DRAMA OF THE SEA.

Deeply touched and still quivering
with emotion, write these lines.
Many and full of terrors are the sea
tragedies enacted on this island, that is
nevertheless rightly named the ''beauti-
full
Its lovable and courteous inhabitants
are divided into two distinct classes
farmers and fishermen
The former plant wheat. corn, oats
and potatoes.
The latter catch the sweet feshed
funny fish, sardines and Holsters.
Neither farmers nor fishermen ever
become rich, and meat is almost IN
known in their homes
The people are. therefore, far from
strong, the women especially being ten
der and delicate, with straight noses,
slender, graceful necks and a slow, aris-
tocratic carriage.
The men are Of medium height and
well built, but lack the vigor charac-
terizing the peasants of Normandy
The islanders are proud and never
beg. A careful observer cannot fail to
notice that among the many wrinkles
which give character to their faces
those written by laughter are wanting
Both men and women have a serious
and melancholy air, and their foreheads
seem burdened with sad memories or a
certain restlessness. Has not each one
a father, brother, or a son on the ma
lignant water that lies out there-out
there-enclrcling the island everywhere
as far as the eye can reach?
Here these people have lived for cen
turtles surrounded by moving, agitated
cemetery that smiles so alluringly and
at the same time SO savagely
Occasionally the laughter of a child
in one OF the huts bubbles out toward it's
mother working in the fields Her face
lightens up for a moment but she dare
not seem happy, for as she turns there
roll at her feet
Yesterday there stood near me a
dainty little girl Of IL She shaded her
eyes with one hand in order to watch as
long as possible her brother, who was
walking down the street leading to the
harbor of Bordery. Soberly as matron
yourself and do not take cold. Au revoirl
Good catch!''
The boy disappeared, and his sister
returned to arrange her little household
for the home coming of both her broth
ers, as the three were orphans to whom
the state paid a small pension
The girl was dressed i'll mourning,
Father and Mother Gouenantin having
died two years before-he Ill the hospi-
tai after 10 days of cruel suffering caused
by the poisonous sting of fish, she a
few days later from consumption and
grief
Yes there they lived, the three or
phans. The elder brother. aged Is. had
arisen at day break to be ready for his
share of sardlnes, and the other, lad
of l5. was Just to depart with his cousin
Pierre Marie to catch Holsters.
The three companions, Pierre Marie
Gouenantln. Eugene Gouenantln, the
orphan. and Michel Sanzun. boarded a
little boat l. Enfant du Desert, hoisted
its pale blue sail and disappeared
The heavens were slightly misty, the
wind came out of the west, and l. sit
ting on the rocks, looked before me-
dreaming the endless dreams born of
the changeless yet ever changing sea as
one gazes into its depths. full of charm
and mystery
PARKWAY cries caused me to turn my
head and look about
A flock of screaming sea gulls flying
above me had attracted my attention
was just about to leave the rocks when
new cries reached my ears These were
piteous and broken like the sobs of a
child. | arose and. looking toward the
island where the lighthouse of Poulains
stands, saw Mother LIE Pelletier, the
wife Of the lighthouse keeper, down on
her knees, waving her handkerchief,
weeping and calling for help
Workmen. busy III the nelghborhood,
saw the woman Just as did In few
moments the little island was crowded
with people
What a painful. what terrifying
spectacleI
Opposite the point of the island, 300
meters from land. lay the boat l. En-
FAINT du Desert capsized. Her sails were
under water, and on her keel, which
rose in the air, chung Eugene Gouenan-
tin, the orphan His face was as pale as
Q winding sheet, his eyes were closed.