The Republican journal., 1912-04-04
IN AJAcCIo.
v.

heart, and Sica, a stiletto, heart of steel.
Most appropriate for these hardy noun
taineers who know no fear, whose sense
of honor is proverbial, and whose laws
of hospitality are never broken. Their
clear, dark eyes look out unfalteringly
upon the world and its everchanging
fortunes. Great men and great patriots
have been born and nourished on the
valorous deeds of this sturdy little isle.
Each has gone forth in his own way to
Sight for her independence, or her glory.
Several nations have commended for the
possession of Corsica and ever was
patriot found to unfurl the standard of
liberty. The French yoke is light. France
leads her children rather than drives them.
Like wise mother she knows when to
be lenient and when severe. The jewellers
on this Isle of Honor are French indeed,
but above all they are Corsican. There
is something patriotic in the very air it
seems to me. The land is so different
from any other. 1t lies at the threshold
of Europe. and yet it might be thousands
of miles over seas, for all the similarity
it possesses with the Continent! Ancient
Isle of Cyruos, badge Of honor, land Of
vendetta. Tome of Arrigo and Paolo
della Rocca, Christopher Columbus,
Sampiero, Giafferri, the patriot general
Pascal Paoli, and that most extraordinary
genius the world has ever known, Napo-
leon the First. Corsica is indee d
worthy Fatherland for such heroes, and
men of few words and mighty deeds.
One finds new things to admire each
day in this beautiful picturesque island.
The glorious sunrise over hill and craggy
height reflected in the glimmering Bay
of Ajaccio. Azure, gold, and purple
clouds, harbingers of the celestial beauty
of the New Jerusalem, breaking into an
aureole of crimson light as the sun tri-
umphantly bursts forth. The liquid skies
of purest blue fecked with pearly foam
the whole day long, the flight of waving
wings, the joyous carolling Of the song
birds, and the wondrous tints DER land
and sea, are all but preludes to the glori-
GUS sunsets over verdant dales and the
snow-clad mountain tops. We love the
long semi tropical nights when the feath-
cry date-palms, and sterner health-giv-
ing umbrella pines stand shouted
against the midnight sky, and the beau
teous sea of many moods lies still and
calm. Only the Arab and Bedouin are
wanting ''to silently steal away" Law
ish Nature has bewitched this island.
The spell of beauty is over all. We seem
to live an imaginary life. care we
really we?' els this actually myself"
We nod cheerily to the dairy women re-
turning home to the hills from Ajaccio,
seated in their diminutive two-wheeled
carts, drawn by a donkey no bigger than
Newfoundland dog. They pass in
single file, knitting, always knitting, all
in mourning garments and with sad lines
upon their Madonna-like faces. Brave
loyal women. All mothers of large fami-
lies, yet harder working than the men
themselves.
The wife of Ettore Cacciaguerra, the
goat-herd, has just given birth to her
eighth child. Four days later, with
stern energy, she is back on her cart
again, selling in Ajaccio. the goats milk
from Ettore's herd, and knitting on The
return journey the tiny garments for
Corsica's newest-born! Her dark eyes
brighten, her lips part in a smile as we
stop the donkey and talk a bit with her.
She understands French, but answers US
in the Corsican dialect, which in many
ways is not unlike Italian. She is pleased
when we ask about the children.
Many tales are told of the old days.
There was a parish priest of Sogglo de
Uazza, a mountain village, who upon
first coming to his new parish noticed
spirit of discomfort among his flock.
Standing on the altar steps he delivered
the following speech 81 know he
said, "that you are very bad Christians,
and that you care but little for your
priest: possess, however, the means of
bringing you to reason" Then, placing
his musket against the altar, "Behold
the Father" said he, and laying his pis-
tol beside the musket, "Behold the Son,
and if that be not sufficient" he added,
as he drew forth his stiletto, "Behold the
Holy Ghost" This little episode breathes
the fiery determination of these reso-
lutte islanders.
When the sun is high the women wear
over the black handkerchief which al
ways serves as head covering, pecu-
liar fiat straw hat tied under the chin by
a mourning ribbon. 1t resembles moth
ing else SO much as mammoth New
England wheaton pancake! We meet
them sometimes on Our rambles far
afield and up the mountain sides. They
seem to do all the work that ever is done
unless it be goat herding and shepherd
ing. In some districts they even attend
to those duties as we'll, dressed in male
attire and carrying always with them
their one barrelled musket. They gath
er up into baskets the small shiny black