Dewey County advocate. [volume] (Timber Lake, S.D.) 1910-1913, 1911-06-02

~ F AL the Normandy towns
none Is more charming than
Coutances, writes Edna Hal
" loran in the Los Angels Times
After several hours of joltine
through beautiful country. q
ridiculous little box Ct train depos-
tied us at the gate Of Coutances on
gray morning in June.
The old ramparts which bound the
town on three sides. give it, in per-
spective, the appearance Of clinging
to the hillside. The double row OF
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 sharp, irregu-
lar skyline. In almost every square,
smoky window pot OF towering
plants makes 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 contented. On
sunny morning old women, in their
immaculate huted caps. full skirts and
wooden sabots. sit on the doorsteps
and knit necessarily. rat sleepy cats
bask in the pleasant warmth; boys
from the boulangerie, in their coarse
blue aprons. balance wicker baskets
filed with long loaves Of bread; maids
sent out to market stop to gossip on
the Place; children clotter over the
cobblestones in their wooden shoes,
serviette, bullying with school books,
under their arms.
In summer, in Normandy, the twi-
light lasts all night. It never grows
dark from sunset to sunrise. Soon
ster dinner in the evening, the sound
of voices and snatches Of song came
cp from the shadows in the valley
through which the river flows. The
women Of the neighborhood were
xashing 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 good-humored and po-
lite. One was a particularly friendly
soul, and told me that in Normandy
one did not speak French. only a
patois, for ma fol, one had not the
time to learn pure French; life was
too short, and labor was too heavy.
The women indeed do mems work,
herding cattle, blowing fields, moving
hay. carrying immense bundles, poised
on the shoulder, with no apparent sf-
fort.
In the shops, ruddy-faced old women
beam at you from under their clean
starched caps, and smllingly make you
buy. charging you two prices because
Won are a foreigner. With all the
rraciousness imaginable, everything
IN stock is set out for your inspec-
ton - sabots. pictures, postcards,
trinket, lace-and running fire OF
conversation kept up in the mean
lime. Madam has both time and Gu
riosity for the strangers.
The cathedral is the one thing of
Coutances. 1t has long been consid-
cred among the most beautiful exam
ples of Gothic architecture in France.
1t is indeed magnificent. lofty and
pure In its beauty. The slim coupled
columns meet in Gothic arches, the
;su,ern Is formed from the beautiful