The Catholic bulletin. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1911-1995, 1913-04-19

end of it, there lived a peasant re-
nowned for his avarice and for his
skill in cultivating the ground. He
owned five acres of this sand enriched
by the floods of winter and then
warmed by the reflections of the arms
of the Loire. This land produced all
that could be wished, and even pro-
fusion of weeds not asked for. But
the house, never repaired, was in poor
condition. And as the water did not
cease rising for six days, Jean Fran
co.'s Lemanceau, alone in his kitchen
which was full of the smell of the wet
soil, began to say to himself: Il was
wrong not to repair the frame of the
house, which is shaky. The Loire is
capable of lifting up my roof like a
boat"
Overhead, in the garnet, the maid
servant was setting along the sloping
timbers the articles of furniture which
she had moved there with great diff
ficulty: the two cupboards, the table,
the chairs, the kitchen utensils, the
churns, and all the farm tools, except
the plows and harrows, which she
could not think of moving.
The Loire on this day had glided
to the stacks of hay and straw, which
rested upon fagots a few yards from
the threshold. The farmer, however,
had slept in his bed, at the end of
the kitchen, and the maid servant in
the nook adjoining the stable. But
early in the morning it was necessary
to finish the work of removal, for the
river had made it's way into the house,
and appeared in the middle of the
kitchen, and moved the straw in the
stable beneath the hoofs of the white
mare and the two cows.
Jean Francois Lemanceau made as
much haste as his sixty-five years per-
mitted to climb to the last step of his
stairway. And he saw that all the
island had disappeared, except the
poplars and the houses on the rock.
The sound of the current was like the
unceasing beating of wings. The river
was rising with frightful rapidity.
"Mathurine,' he called, bring up
the mattresses and the straw beds at
once, and give me the girths for the
animals"
Always, at Behuard, and in the low
parts of the valley, men must set their
wits at work to save the animals, after
having saved the people. So this was
what Lemanceau did. He went down
into the current to his heap of fagots
and carried them into the stable plac-
ing them in front of the hangers and
loading them with heavy stones so as
to make a floor of them; and upon
this floor he succeeded in hosting the
white mare and the cows. The ami
mails, who had seen the water, made
but slight resistance. Thus perched
up, their heads touched the ceiling
And to hold them securely, for fear
of false step, or a caving in, the
farmer passed round each Of them a
girth, which he fastened to the ends
of the beams.
The next day was the 31st of March
and Sunday, the water was still ris
ing and SO regularly that it became
necessary to take the animals into the
garnet. That was the last refuge fol
them all. When the farmer had fin
ished the rescue he said to Mathurine
who had helped him: "The bell i:
ringing for Mass Mathurine. I will
take you there and will go on to thu
bakers for some bread"
Then they embarked, at the top o
the stairway, in the strong flat-boat
Despite his age the farmer had still
enough vigor to poll the boat Owe
the flooded meadows, for the waite
was not deep and the current, broker
by SO many hedges and trees, lackeC
space to gain the terrible violenc'
which it had on the two shores Of thu
island.
Maturine had seated herself upon ;
chair; she had hastily tied satin rib
bon about her headdress and had pu
on a black silk apron. She gazed il