St. Johnsbury Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1867-1919, 1898-07-06
TOWN OF VELAUX.
A Curious Little Place In the Southern
Part of France.

Velaux is one of the places that you
find marked upon the map Of the world
with a large black dot. But upon map
of this department of France, which is
called Bouches- du- Rhone or Mouths of
the Rhone, it can be found five or six
miles back from the shore of the Medi-
terranean, on branch Of the 2, j.. nj.
railway that cuts across the Rognao to
AK. About 20 miles west Of Marseilles
is large bay with very narrow en-
trance, an arm Of the Mediterranean,
and on the north side Of that bay is
Rognac. From Rognac the branch train
runs inland and soon enters large,
we'll titled valley, Oh the north side of
which is high hill crowned by a vii
lage and the remains of castle, both
of which look old enough to have been
built by the Romans and that is We
laux.
The train runs through the valley,
and on alighting we had mil to walk
up hill, over beautifully hard and
smooth macadamized road, between
some walls that are still in good repair,
though evidently as old in many cases
as the crumbling castle. And this is
Provence. The old folks call it so still
and cling to their own language, though
other Frenchmen say it is only dialect
and government has taken away even
the name and divided the old territory
iyto departments. The old inhabitants,
however, do not like this change, and
not only do they still call themselves
Provencals, but they dote upon two or
three Provencal poets who print their
works in Provencal on one page and in
French on the opposite, and they would
see nothing either tempting or nourish-
ing in meal that was not prepared ao-
cording to the rules of the Provencal
cookbook. have learned in few days
to hold very high opinion Of these old
Provencal people. They are kind, ami
able, obliging, Industrious, religious,
and they cook like angels.
We had hardly taken 100 steps in the
big valley before saw that there was
something strange about it, but it was
some time before could make out what
it was. Here were the familiar fields,
just as we have them at home, some
newly plowed, some in grass many COW
cred with olive and almond trees. Walls
between the fields, some shade trees,
good roads-it might have been fertile
valley in America by shutting one eye
on the ancient town on the hilltop, for
all but the one indefnable thing. And
presently I discovered what that was
there were no houses among the farms.
Here from my window on the hilltop I
can count you every house in this valley
that runs ten miles in the one direction
and two or three miles in the other.
There is the station, with little inn
beside it, both modern. Then comes a
great stone affair, with towers, that
looks like an old castle, but it is
wlnemaking concern. Then there is
small house at the turn of the road, I'M
occupied, and just at the foot of the hill
are two or three comparatively modern
dwellings, one of which is Mr.. Blanc's
summer residence. But those are all;
here are 100 farms in sight and not a
single farmhouse, and it is the want of
them that gives the landscape it's unfa-
miliar look.
''That is survival Of ancient Gus.
toms" Mr.. Blanc explains when I ask
about it. In old times the provinces
were continually at war and farmer
who lived in detached farmhouse
would have been an easy prey to the en-
envy. For their own protection and the
safety of their stock they built their
houses in a group, and so the village
was formed. They had farther to go to
their work, to be sure, but in case of at
tack they had better chance for de-
Tense. Now that there is no such danger
the custom still survives, and through
out the south of France you always find
the farmers living in the neighboring
village"
The wine place with the towers we
could admire only from the outside, as
the olives and the breakfast were wait
ing. 1t was evidently built in such
shape that it could be defended, but in
more recent times large residence has
been added at one side. Across the road
were large vineyards, and in the vintage
season, l am told, you can go to the
mill with a cask and buy the grape
juice fresh from the press for cents
quart. There need be no question about
its purity, for you can stand there and
see the grapes put in and catch the juice
as it runs out. Later on, when the juice
has turned into wine, it sells for s or 10
cents quart. The common retail price
OF this ordinary table wine in Paris or
Marseilles is IL cents or 10 cents a
Quart.-NeW York Trihune