The Catholic bulletin. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1911-1995, 1914-09-26
AN IDYLL OF PROVENCE

It was raining. 1t would not, in fact,
be an eXaggeration to say that it was
raining hard. Gone was the deep blue
sky of the South-gone, the glorious
sun-gone, the scorching heat of the
day before in fact, as far as
climate was concerned, everything
that would have reminded me that |
was in Provence, and that this was
not just mere ordinary wet autumn
day in less favored cline! 1t is not
often, in my experience at least, that
the weather plays such. tricks in this
sun-kissed land, but when it does
there is no mistaking its intentions.
AS the long, heavy train creaked
and jolted out of the station at Aries,
the Rhone lay grey and cold beneath
the downpour. But for the ,oliveset
banks, silver-grey, with the indistinct
note of the gloomy expresses; it might
almost have been the Severn. It was
all very depressing, and the route be-
ing familiar enough to me | turned
from its contemplation to bury my.
self in the magic pages of that Saga
of the Midi in which a certain wizard,
by name Alphonse Daudet, paints SO
unerringly the lives and character and
doings of his Provenca'ux; more espe-
cially those of one Tartarin, that
charming and perfect type of your
true Meridional. But Port Tarascon, ,
with all it's fun, is after all a tragedy
too sad for a wet day in the South
The pitiless rain was too like the
ceaseless deluge that fell upon Tar
tarin's Inflated island; the rain-soaked
peasants working in the fields beside
the Rhone reminded one too keenly
of the hopeless colonists going forth
to cultivate their allotments with 9
spade in one hand and large UNI
brella in the other! Besides, knew
that in the end Tartarin was to cross
the famous bridge, and die in patriotic
exile at Beaucaire. -"
"The first time have a day or two
to spare" thought, Il will stop a
Tarascon on my way somewhere else
and see if / can find Tartarin's house
on the Avignon road, and look at the
4 tower of King Rene-yes! and eros!
the bridge to Beaucaire myself" Ever.
time | go to Tarascon ! wish | hat
time to stop there-but so far the OPP
portunity has never come. Next time
it shall. OF that / am determined!
"Tarascon! Tarascon"
i l wonder if there is any station
1 anywhere-quite like Tarascon? TIVE
Railway lines, the P. L. NJ mainline
Paris Marseilles, and the much (ant
/ rightly abused Ligne du Midi, eros!
i at right angles in the middle of it
Should boat-express, or a River;
'rapide" come laundering down thu
P. L. NJ, the slow train from Mont
/ pellier and Mines waits humbly neal
the cross-lines till the monster hal
| passed, with it's earth.shakiig roal
and rattle a few yards off, and tn,
/ omnibus" can creep in beside tn,
i low platform. True, very few train,
in the day do so rush through, fo
1 your French express has tiresoml
knack of stopping every half-hour O
SO at stations which the tired and un
i appreciative traveller, in a hurry tt
reach his destination, is apt to con
slider insignificant. Who wants to stol
at Tarascon when he is anxious Il
catch the Bombay mail at Marseilles
Nearly all the expresses" however
do stop there, perhaps because it il
an important junction; perhaps from
a chiValrous desire on the part of thu
railway companies to come to the res
cue of those travellers who wish, no
to get out, but in; not to visit Tai
ascon, but to leave it. Whatever tn,
reason, the fact remains that mos
trains do stop here, and that the P. L
M. has precedence. Thus, the SLOW
train for Montpellier-my own destin
alton that day-waited without in tn,
!. rain while the Paris express which
had brought me from Aries discharged
a crowd OF passengers, received in re
turn another crowd, and finally puffet
away to its next Avfgnon.
The platform was crowded, as it al
ways seems to be at Tarascon, and i