The herald-advance. (Milbank, S.D.) 1890-1922, 1911-05-26

none is more charming than
Coutances, writes Edna Hal
" loran in the Los Angels Times.
After several hours of jolting
through q beautiful country, a
ridiculous little box of a train depos-
tied us at the gate Of Coutances on a
gray morning in June.
The old ramparts which bound the
town on three sides, give it, in per-
spective, the appearance OF ngln
tt the hillside. The double row or
giant trees edging the boulevard. rear
their massive boughs above the house
tops; the lofty spires Of the cathedral
dominate the landscape. Steep, mar
row streets thread the ancient quar-
tiers. Old houses, ~blackened with age,
crowd together on the edge OF the
sidewalks, their fiat chimneys and
pointed roofs making a sharp, 'irregu-
lar skyline. In almost rel square,
smoky window a pot of Towering
plants makes a bit of color against the
dullness of the gray walls. The
heavy front doors are sometimes beau
tifully carved, a remnant of former
prosperity. And at an occasional
window hangs a curtain of fine lace.
1T is essentially a town where the
hand of Progress has been stayed.
Nothing changes, nothing advances,
nothing needs to. 1t is perfect as 1t
is, and absolutely c~ontented. On a
sunny morning old women, in their
Immaculate f1uted caps, full skirts and
wooden sabots, sit on the doorsteps
snd knit necessarily. Fat sleepy cats
bask in the pleasant warmth; boys
from the boulangerie, In their coarse
blue aprons, balance wicker baskets
filled with long loaves OF bread; maids
sent out to market stop to gossip on
the Place; children clotter W. the
cobblestones in their wooden shoes, a
serviette, bullying with school books,
under their arms.
In INNER in Normandy, the twi-
light lasts all night 1t never grows
dark from sunset to sunrise. Soon
after dinner in the evening. the sound
of voices and snatches Of song came
I'D from the shadows in the valley
through which the river flows. The
women of the n~eighborhood were
washing in the lavoir, beating their
clothes on the wet stones at the
waters edge. Although knotted and
gnarled by hard work, yet these peas
ant women are go~od-humored and po-
lite. One vas a particularly friendly
soul, and told me that In Normandy
one did not speak French. only a
natois. for. ma fol, one had not the
time to learn pure French; life was
too short, and labor was too neavy.
Tha women indeed do mems work,
herding cattle, blowing fields, moving
hav carving immense bundles, posred
on the shoulder, with no apparent ef-
fort.
In the shops, ruddy-faced old women
beam at you from under their olesn
starched cap and smllingly make you
huv charging you two prices because
Won are a foreigner. With all the
rraciousness imaginable, everything
~ stock Is set out for your inspec-
ZION sabots, pictures, postcards.
trinket. lace--and a running fire OF
conversation kept up In the mean
time. Madam has both time and Gu
riosity for the strangers.
The cathedral Is the n thing OF
Coutances. 1t has long been consld'
cred among the most beautiful exam
ples OF Gothic architecture In France
II is indeed magnificent, lofty and
pure In its beauty. The slim coupled
columns meet In Gothic arches, the
lantern u formed from the beautiful