Daily Kennebec journal., 1901-01-12
UNDER THE TRICOLOR.
Lovely French Island Off the Coast
of Newfoundland.


! days voyage, in the harbOr of st
Pierre. ten miles to the south of New.
1oundland, says n writer in the Bostor
Transcript. We had heard much of the
place. this little colony of France. one
OF the two islands in this hemisphere
where no flag beside the French is seer
or allowed to be raised except above
the mouse of our own American consul
| Inc tide was out, and we were taker
TO the wharf in a tugboat. The rain
| mad obscured the island from view as
we approached, but now had almost
| ceased. and the scene revealed was a
strange one. 1t was as though we had
been suddenly transported to some
town OF France, for the place is so iso-
| lated, 1t retains the provincialism OF
It's early settlers. Around US was q
| group of F'rench-speaking people. well
coming their friends with a kiss on
each cheek. The broad quay, enveloped
| in fog, was lined on one side with a
forest of masts, on the other with
| buildings of plaster intersected with
beams of timber. Here and there a
lantern suspended from the corner of
a house glimmered through the mist
and brought bits OF the scene into
strong relief.
We We're conducted by little boy
through the middle of the street up a
hill to our pension, where in a few
minutes we were seated before a din
lng-table which could lay claim to
pieces of solid silver. although set out
in an unusually simple style and COW
cred with enamel cloth. We had al
ready on the steamer become accus--
toned to the French dishes and the
method of serving them, and now we
looked at the plates piled before us and
almost unconsciously counted them to
see how many courses We're to follow
The meal proved a long one. including
several different kinds of meat and
broiled Gods tongue, with claret for
drink.
AS soon as il was over We We're glad
to seek our bedrooms and lie down
with canopies draped over our heads
and four mattresses piled beneath us
We We're tired but it was long before
we went TO sleep. The windows were
open and there was something too ex-
citing in the unusual noises of the
street, the chatter Of the French
tongue and the echo of the wooden
shoes of the fishermen sounding on the
stones. But at last boy went through
the town, ringing his ten o'clock bell.
The cheaper cafes We're closed. All
sounds were hushed, and St. Pierre
reposed under its heavy blanket of fog
for the night.
We had but two days and half on
the island before our steamer returned
to Halifax. The Pro Patria makes the
trip from the provinces but once a
fortnight, and affords the only means
of reaching the place unless one goes
by way of Newfoundland. The town
necessarily lives much in itself. and for
1t is a strange sensation to find ones
self so entirely severed from connec-
ton with the rest of the world except
by cable. The position of the island
has made it Of great importance in this
line, and has thus opened its doors to
one outside interest. The first cable.
laid in 1865. established a station here
where many things worthy of notice
can be seen; for instance the appara-
tus for testing the condition of gutta
percha that incloses the cable, which
can locate the place of any accident
within a distance of half mile.
But to return to our subject of St.
Pierre. On our first morning we had
breakfast of coffee and rolls and went
out into the fresh cool air. The usual
struggle of the elements had Commenc-
ed. The sun for one moment shown in
an unclouded sky, and then suddenly
without warning the banks of fog
crowded in from beyond the hill and
not a speck of the blue was left. Still
the weather was not disagreeable. and
nothing prevented us from staying out
of doors.
The village is small. with a popula-
ton in the summer time of about 5000
inhabitants. and nestled on the narrow
strip of land between the mountain
and the sea, extends perhaps two miles
in length. The houses crowd the edges
of the narrow streets, leaving a space
between where the children and the
dogs run pell-mell. There is no side
walk and the street is the thorough
fare for every passerby; a lively scene
with plenty of children and dogs and
old women always in sight. and occa-
sionally an imposing French officer or
a Jesuit priest. AS for the young girls,
they cross the doorsteps only when ac-
companied by some matron of the fam
lily. for here in this little place the con-
ventionalities of the French code are
as scrupulousy observed as in any part
of France.
The doors of the houses have curious
latches foot and half long. The
windows. dividing in the middle, open
outwards. and behind the lace curtains
and bowers of fuchsias we were con-
stantly aware of a line of faces that
peered out after us wherever we went.
But the curiosity was not all on their
part | turned to look back upon many
a quantity costumed figure. Boutet de
MonvePs children lived there, wearing
their dark blue frOckS. and their great
dogs were seen in every direction.
There was nothing suggestive of the
States in the place. unless perhaps the
bakers cart. which drove jingling
through the village. Still. one could
easily forgive the commonplace ap-
pearance of that after watching the
women come out of their houses to
buy their bread and stand gossiping
together with the loaf still in their
hands. They were very picturesque.
and the bread was excellent with its