Burlington weekly free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1866-1928, 1910-05-19
THE DEAD CITY
Vegetation Fast Covering ST. Pierre,
Neutrality-suspicious. This once Busy
Center VIII lie hut "a Memory.

III tne otnef direction, TO nOrtnWdru,
that 1t did It's terrible work eight years
ago
From here tho island lies smiling and
peaceful In the sunshine, with rich wood
cd valleys lying beween the green should
ers Of warm foothills which rise to the
heavily timbered slopes of the great hill
itself From we'll out at sea for few
minutes only we had seen the fun out
line of the mountain clear-cut against
the sky, the cone truncated as sharply
as the top OF an egg which has been sliced
with a knife.
In the awful moment on that Sth OF
May, 1902. when the cap of the noun
tain lifted, before the blast OF fame
swept down upon the city on the shore.
it is said that by the mere conclusion
masts and tunnels we're lifted out OF
ships that lay of shore. But to-day, and
usually it Is only from out at sea that
one sees the monsters outline intact.
ut is men, not walls. that make a
city" the Greek maxim ram and more.
it Is living men. For the walls OF St
Pierre are there still and probably no
fewer than 1900, of It's inhabitants are
there also. But. they have been asleep
these eight years now
Every street is silent. every house
roofless, every window cavernous and
blind The sea is as smooth as "A sheet
Of glass. Between us and the shore
one small boat contains two boys who
have been fishing. the sun shinin.' on
their unprecedented skins and on tie
brilliant red rock-lsh with which the
bottom Of the boat is Uttered.
L'I'NI ar, LIME
Otherwise there IS no life in all the
wide roadstead. where II vessels, with
numerous small boats. were swallowed
UP that day. Almost without a ripple
We slide through the still. indigo-col
ored sea; the anchor runs out and we
swing gently round. some 800 yards per-
haps, from the uncannv land We go
ashore In the ships launch, for no one
puts out 10 take us of or greet us; and
the captain does not come with us. The
bottom here is buried many feet deep in
volcanic dust and ashes. and In such stuff,
even In a calm like this an anchor drags
AZ times.
on the forlorn wreck of a ietty we
are met by half a dozen almost unclad
black folk, three women 0he elderly
haR perhaps, the mother of the other
tw"), one old and crippled man. ana
two young boys. all thrustng on us
pathetic souvenirs dug from this grave
yard OF Il goblets and other glass
vessels showing the action Of the fire,
half fused and melted out Of shape; coins
burnt and bent; personal ornaments, MS
bronze crucihx and chain; bits of brio
a-hrac Ike an old wrought iron candle
90 a ", 20, i,r,
all alike bearing witness 10 the awful
ness Of that hour when tho hot air search
ed the town as a fame Is driven by a
forced draft through furnace; each poor
article truly a memento mort
The Ude-paved street runs along and
parallel to the water front. And there"
says the ship officer, was the wick
eldest spot in the whole West Indies,
That row Of houses. pink and white. to
the left. The French nature. YOU know.
away from the restraints Of home with
the ignorance and docility OF the blacks:
IT is a bad combinations"
Fifty yards of a narrow cross street
leads to what was once tho chief bust
ness thoroughfare Of St. Pierre Wide
and straight It runs for n mile In eth
er direction, the roadway tagged with
blocks Of stone, fair and smooth, to
where on each side the cutters are now
green ribbons Of heritage. Straight ana
orderly the line of the shop fronts still
staudS--the fronts only, with gaping door
ways and empty windows. Here and
there, still fixed in the heavy masonry
the rusted clamps and pins show where
doors We're hung and window shutters
fastened; but beyond the bare incom-
hustible stone and metal not a fragment
or shred of wood or glass or fabric re-
mains of all the bravery of what was
once perhaps the gaycst and most fash
ionable shopping street in the Nest In
dies
No life, no pcrishable material sur
vived that first sitting. whitening blast:
then came the rain OF dust and ashes
covering all things. as for the most part
they remain hidden to this day.
MARCH OF VEG CITATION
And, more mercifully yet nature in
the tropics IS prolific. Whatever man
holds he holds only by keeping the
vegetable armies at bay; wherever he
retreats the ranks of the green things
advance. From the hill slopes on all
sides vegetation has pushed It's way
among the ruins. Seeds have been
borne by the wind or dropped by birds
or, having long lain dormant In crevices
OF houses and in the uncongenial earth
OF the city, have now thrust up through
the everything layer Of debris TO the air.
In every interStice, oNerhanging every
wall from where the roofs once were.
mantle of foliage and blossoming shrubs
has been drawn over the whole dead
city. Each straight paved street, with
the white walls on either hand. is lit
tie more than a pergola, a grotto, an
avenue cut through the green. ON every
side dense scrub of faint-perfumed
mmosa and eupatorium, with It's clus-
tered nower-heads and gray-prccn leaves.
has thrust up, and over and among them
climb strange creepers in which the yell
low gherkin-like fruits Of the momordica
are conspicuous
And over and among these again are
the butterflies and moths, gorgeous things
to make the European lepidoptorist des-
pair. splendid fritillaries. all molten cop
per and silver and rose, beautiful moths
of the Lithosa or Footman family. white
butterflies and yellow and a host of repre-
sentatives of general unknown British
collectors. So over the huge seyulchre.
wherein the 1000 human beings lie
buried, there is a constant play of life.
the grace Of green leaves and brilliant
flowers and hright-colored wings SHIN
mcrtnE IN the hot West Indian sun
Leaving the silent streets and going
| Shorewards along the edge of the in
coming tide, It is strange walking. for
| ib, sand hpuenth ones fcat frcads n