Evening Star Newspaper, April 3, 1897, Page 13

cpa THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, APRIL 8, 1897-28 PAGES. 13 SANTA BARBARA. SPANISH MISSIONS = a ‘Unique Feature of the Landscape in Southern California. ‘ONEHAS RECENTLY BEEN REDEDICATED After Being Given Over to Ruin and Decay for Years. ———— AT OLD SAN LUIS REY ee (Written for The Evening Star. Abeut no feature of charming California @oes thers cluster more of romantic and Felizious {nterest than her old mission Fuirs. No ere in the United States can be found such pi sque mementoes of a dead past as i ancient landmarks— Monuments to 2 and religious zeal of the holy padres who raised the the mission bells to call Z to eivilization the Indians Ifornia. y and more missions founded cata but a small number are in ition of preservation, that at Santa Barbara alone still holding its own. Just as of old the cowled monks walk and pray in the mission garden, treading the Same paths beneath the olive trees as did friars of long ago. he mission stands at the head of State street—a_ magnificent boulevard, which Passes through the center of Santa Bar- ara.treminating at the wharf. State street fs to ths channel city what Pennsylvania enue is to Washington, with the mis- sion standing in place of the Capitol. , Its ancient, red-tlled roof and cross- ferowned towers, in which are swung the aission bells, have stood guard over the ‘picturesque little town for more than a gentury. There are but two priests left at the old mission now, one having died but a short time since, and these, with several Jaymen, also resident there, have charge of the parish, for Santa Barbara is essentially sa Cathoile town, fully 2,000 of her residents Nbeing Spanish, all of whom cling to their fational religion. wey wre formed to protect the picturesque ruins | from the vandal hand of relic hunters and preserve them from entire decay—the writer was present at the impressive ser- vices of rededication, which took place in Oceanside the evening previous, in order to irsure an early start to the mission the fcllowing morning. The little hotel was crowded with visitors—curious tourists, de- vout Catholics, newspaper and magazine representativ people and pho- ring. than we ever had before, ‘More 5 arnounced the gratified proprietor, as he ople surveyed the hotel register with pardon- able pride, evidently regarding the mission tion as a financial windfall for his to be improvised, and it was midnight before, in a stuffy er, with three of my compan- ions, found lodgment in beds whose only lack was blankets, which want was partially supplied by an ulster and over- coat kindly loaned by the hotel proprietor tide over the sudden inundation of and consequent heavy draft upon rd little cha. to sleep with the soft roll of Pa- cific waves on the beach sounding a lullaby In our ears, and awoke next morning at 6 o'clock to swallow a hasty breakfast and be off for the mission. A canvas-covered vehicle occupied by bishop and priests was in the lead, and next came our improvised ‘four-in-hand,” which was nothing less than a heavy lum- ber wagon with rough board seats and a earrying capacity of thirteen, including the Mexican ¢ r. Other conveyances fol- lowed, and as Jose cracked his whip over the leaders we dashed away, rumbling over the hiils yellow with wild mustard blos- scms and musical with the singing of the meadow larks. Winding down the valley, following the course of the river, our pro- cession passed, the line being constantly | lengthened by private conveyances from the surrounding country in all styles, from dcgearts to buckboards and horseback riders—all bound for the mission. Beautiful in Decay. After a delightful drive of an hour, the ancient gray walls rose to view against a background of mountain peaks, cleaving the cloudless blue of the sky. Of the mag- nificent arched colonnade which surround- ed the court of three acres, and gave that air of grandeur which distinguished the mission above all others, but broken frag- ments remain. No attempt has been made to restore any portion of the immense cru- eiform building, save only one arm of the At the rear of the mission ts the sacred garden, inclosed by a very high wall. Into its holy precincts no woman, save only Mrs. larrison and the Princess Loutse, has ever By climbing the narrow, winding to the tower, one can look down into orbidden beauties of this inner court. In the cemetery at the right of the mis- eon 1 evou: worshipers in the church. A Memory of the Past. Pa: rance from footfall of curious strangers, which echo | loudly on the bare floor. Occasionally an Inner door swings noise- his devotions. Standing there in the dim cathedral light the visitor drifts backward in imagination ab red years, and from the hollow cor- Tidors come the voices of the hooded padres @t prayer; the dusky forms of Indians pe le the atsles, chanting as of old the “Ave ria; the bells ring out the call to ves- \pers, and the memories of the past bring ‘back the solemn glories of the mission in its palmy days. By far the largest and most magnificent mission ever established in California was that of San Luis Rey. Cruciform in shape, the entire structure covered six acres of ud. Its possessions extended over miles of area. The 2,000 horses and the 300 mules belonging to the mission roved in pastures so wide that a horse could not gallop round one-half of {t from sun to sun. Here 70,000 head of cattle, 140 yoke of oxen and 8,000 sheep grazed over the fertile acres surrounding the mission. The golden fields of grain waved for miles round; luscious fruits filled the gardens, Three Fathers, San Luis Rey. of the sheep into the beautiful blankets in these days, have become of al- most priceless value to relic hunters, so rare are they. The herds and flocks dou- bled every ten years, and here 3,000 In- dians were instructed in the Christian re- jigion and the rudiments of the arts of which, life. {ifornia bullding. ‘being Oceanside. i efter its establishment Rey Micston. For ov: ood mournfully |} hand the remains of 10,000 Indians, once ng up the stone steps, worn by the pressure of many feet, you enter the chapel, its altars and pillars breathing spicy frag- the incense that has burned these scores of years. The shadowy aisles, nce thronged with worshipers, “are for the most part deserted and silent, save for the on {ts hinges, and a monk, clad in the garb of the order, glides to the altar, reverently crosses himself and kneels to nd in the court the Indians wove the wool iticent model of this mission was at the world’s fair in Chicago, attracted much attention in the Cal- ‘The ruins stand about twenty miles north fof San Diego, the nearest railway station Going thence by car- Tiage six miles Into the interior, one comes } Upon the ancient pile, on the banks of the , San Luts Rey river, where t has stood for [nearly a century, the magnificent structure having been completed in 1802, four years by Padre Peyri, | who continued in administration till the decree of secularization went forth which jgsounded the knell of doom for San Luis half a century the grand edifice awaiting ite inevitable | destruction, till four years ago, when the of preservation was stretched out, the work of restoration begun, and a no- vitlate of the Franciscan order established. In company with @ party of friends—all , of us members of the society for the pres- fervation of the mission, an organization cross. Here the sanctuary has been re- built, the roof celled over, and an altar erected, and here it was that the cere- monies’ occurred. Sitting in the sand outside, against one of the broken pillars, were three Indian women, one of whom remembered the first dedication, almost a century before. As a child she ‘carried stone and adobe for its construction, and now, with the inherent vigor of her race, she had lived a century to behold its prosperity, its gradual de- cline, its downfail, its ruin, and, finally, its triumphant restoration. The choir gathered in the organ loft |above the main entrance, gaining it by | means of the well-worn and much-broken steps leading from the inner garden--now overgrown with mustard and inclosed by broken arches. As the organ pealed through the old cathedral the worsh!pers slipped in past the throng of curious spec- tators, and knelt to their devotions on the earthen floor, while the wealthier class of senors and senoras knelt on rich prayer rugs and cushions spread by their serv- ants, giving one a glimpse of the customs of the olden days of Spanish grandees in California. The altar tapers were lighted and the procession of padres, followed by the novices, entered. At the conclusion of the elaborate serv ice which followed the installation docu- ments from pope and bishop were read, the property was formally taken posses- sion of in the name of the San Luis Rey Mission, and thus another mission was alive again, after its long sleep of half a century. HE WAS SUPERSTITIOUS. Particularly When It Came to Wear ing Opal-Mounted Jewelry. From the Detroit Free Press. He wore an opal for a ring and another for a scarfpin. “Superstitious?’ he said, “I should say I am. The first day I wore this ring I met Mr. Hardup, who had al- ways before this run across the street whenever he saw me approaching. To my surprise he stopped, smiled and extended his hand. “"By the way,’ he remarked, ‘isn’t there a little obligation between us? “I replied stiffly that there had been for three years. “It had passed my mind,’ he said easily. ‘It just occurred to me.’ “With that he took out a large wallet and presented me with three bills of large de- nomination. I tell you it was like finding the cash. I went to the office and there was a letter saying that our mine, which with {ts constant assessments had beon @ nightmare, had struck paying ore and that the stockholders were in favor of sellin; out at great advance to a syndicate, picked up the paper, looked at the stock quotations and saw that zinc had gone "way up. Telegraphed to my agent to sell my stock, and was a good gainer thereby. Man came in and bought a lot in my sub- division. First I had sold in six months. Telegram came from Lansing, supreme court had reversed the decision of the lower court in a case of mine, and, by George! I was a winner of a long-fought, obstinate case. Next week an important event happened in the family.” suppose it was a boy?” was suggested. o, sir; two of ‘em. I am the happy father of two as buxom, fat boys as you ever saw. Raphael's cherubs aren’t in it with them. Superstitious about opals? should say I am. I wear them every da! = eee —___ An Expborer’s Fate. From Harper's Weekly. MRS. M’KINLEY’S DAY Fome Life of the Mistress of the White House. : OBLIGED 10 REFUSE AUTOGHKAPHS Her Health Reported as Daily Grow- ing Stronger. THE PRESIDENT’S DEVOTION Autograph seekers will be disappointed in the presence of bishop, vicar general, sending to Mrs. McKinley for her signa- priests, friars and novices. ture. She has not written her name in an An Interesting Ceremony. autegraph album in a long time—only once We went down from Los Angeles to | in five years, and then it was to oblige an intimate friend. That was an exception which she has never made since and which she may not make again soon. Hundreds of ietters are received every week at the White House asking for the autograph of the first lady of the land, and alburns are sent by visitors to the city with the same request. The writers of these let- ters are not by any means a majority of those who write to Mrs. McKinley, for she gets letters on ail kinds of subjects and containing the most curious of pleas, which in itself would make a good story. The au- tograph seekers, however, like all others who write letters, get answers, but they are not written by Mrs. McKinley. They are formal in their naiure, and are written by typewriters employed on the regular force at the White House, who are assigned to that duty. Does Not Send Autographs. It is not from any dislike of writing her name that prevents Mrs. McKinley giving her autograph. It is because her health will not permit the work which that kind of business would entail if she once broke the rule she has fixed. When her husband became governor of Ohio, Mrs. McKinley iound that she would be unable to supply autographs for all who wanted them end not do herself injury. Not desiring to dis- criminate in the matter she decided that she would gently and politely refuse ail re- quests. No one would more willingly blige Iriends than Mrs. McKinley. It is ner earn- est desire to be able to do all the things which are supposed to be in the list of duties of the first lady of the and. She keenly feels her inability to perform some of these duties. It is not unlikely that if her health con- tinues to improve, even if slowly, she will undertake many duties now abandoned. ‘The truth ts that Mrs. McKinley is feel- ing much better than when she came here. Her face is beginning to have a fresher look. Even these small signs of improve- ment in health are watched with the ciosest interest by the friends of the mistress of the White House. The attaches there are also gratified at these signs, for they al- ready love Mrs. McKinley as dearly as Mrs. Cleveland, and that is saying a great deal. They watth her ciosely when she starts out for her morning drives. If there is more energy her walk than usual they are gratified. She must feel gratified, too, fer she can see in their faces, if she looks, these unmistakable sigrs of affec- tion. Mrs. McKinley never goes out the front door of the White House to her car- riage without bowing and smiling to each one she sees. It is a sweet, gentle smile which carries love with it. Jf the President goes cut with his wife they together extend the friendly greetings which both think are due to the employes. Her Morning Drives, Mrs. McKinley goes out in the family carriage every morning that is fair and not too cold. Up to this time she has been going nm a closed carriage, but when the weather gets warmer she will probably use an open vehicle. Often since the ac-, cident to Gen. Hastings, the friend of the McKinleys, she has had the coachman to drive her to Garfield Hospital. She takes with her a bunch of flowers of some kind and sends them in to Gea, Hastings with her best wishes. She loves flowers. When she has them gathered for herself she has so far shown a partiality for violets. Mrs. McKinley is usually accompanied on her morning rides by Mrs. Saxton. The latter is also her companion at the house. When Mrs. Herrick of Cleveland was at the White House she went out frequentiy with Mrs. McKinley. The McKin'»ys breakfast at 8:30 o'clock in the morning, and Mrs. McKinley is al- ways beside her husband. It is a quiet-lit- ue party, and conversation between the President and his wife is free and full dur- ing the meal. When it is over the Presi- dent and his wife stroll to the upper hall- way of the mansion, and there talk over household matters. She takes almost as much interest in everything as if her heatth permitted her to personally supervise the minutest matters. If there are to be any guests at dinner she consults with the Pre ident as to who they shall be. She is an adept in forming congenial parties, and her advice on these matters is generally taken by the President. He loves his wife very dearly and his consultations with her on subjects of this kind are pleasant to him. He gracefully bows to her judgment. After these pleasant talks the President goes to his room ready to receive the rush of politicians. Mrs. McKinley makes ready and goes for her drive. Returning to the louse, she goes to the big room next west to what is known as the “cabinet room.” The latter is at the head of the main hall- way, and is where the President sits around the offictal table and talks with the members of his official family. The next room to the east Is the office of the Pres!- dent. A door opens into Mrs. McKinley’s sitting room from the cabinet room. The rcom is appropriately fitted up with soft chairs and lounges. Mrs. McKinley reads or does fancy needle work. She likes needle werk and does a great deal of it. The de- votion of the President to his wife, his con- stant thoughtfulness of her, is prettily 1l- lustrated right here. Notwithstanding the swarms of visitors wditing in Secretary Porter's room, the President walks across the cabinet room into the room where his wife sits, stealing a few minutes away from his business to see how she feels and to talk with her. These little trips are not often made if the President is hard pressed, but he manages to take minutes this way occasionally. ‘The Lunch Hour, About noon Mrs. McKinley lies down in her bed room and refreshes herself with a short nap. She next prepares for lunch, which is supposed to be at 1 o'clock, but the patriots pressing for office frequently keep the President in his room longer than that hour. If the President has important business with a cabinet officer, the hour of 1 goes by without his thinking of lunch, Mr. and Mrs. McKinley and Mrs. Saxton ccmpose the party at lunch, unless the President has seen fit to invite an intimate friend to be with him. He does this occa- sionally. In the afternoon, when the President re- turns to his office, Mrs. McKinley rests again. Then, between 8 and 4 o'clock in the afternoon, she receives friends or those bringing letters of introduction from friends. These callers are what the out- sider terms “official people.” Mra. Mc- Kinley could not undertake to hold a gen- eral reception each day. The White House Dinner. At 7 o’clock dinner is served. Mrs. Mc- Kinley is always neatly attired on these oc- casions, and is, as everywhere, most gra- cious in her manners. The President al- ways wears a dreds sult at dinner, which is seldom without friends ef the family. After dinner the President and his wife and guests go to the parlor, which is the “blue room.” Mrs. McKinley likes blue. It is a favorite color with her. It is to- ward 10 o'clock when the party breaks up. The President goes to his office for two or three hours’ work, and Mrs. McKinley re- tires to her apartments. ‘When she reads, Mrs. McKinley prefers cugrent literature. She also goes over the leading papers each day, reading such things as suit her taste. She keeps well Posted on all leading topics. Mra. McKinley’s appetite is fat: She prefers dainty food. She iss ood not infrequently directs pati cieglnslas gre She likes to see hor husband p! dishes cooked which he likes. Since the departure of eee ee ee eeeee oe, Kinley the evenifizs at the White House have not been as 4ivély as at the beginning of the administration. Mrs, McKinley is fond of music, an& nothing™ pleases her more than to hear her niece sing and play. Miss Heien McKimley has a sweet voice. When a good many members.of the family fre at home six-Handed euchre is a favor- ite game. Of coufse, there are plenty of other games an®pastimes which go to make the evenings pleasant. “Nobody at the White House believes in letting solem= nity pervade the atmosphere. IN MUSIGAL CIRCLES =a ts > Mr. Jerome Hopkjtis to Bring Ont Qne of He Will Also Give a Piano Récital— Matters in Regard te Local Musicians. The piano recital by Jerome Hopkins end the presentation, under his direction, of his famous school opera, “Taffy and Old Munch,” at the Columbia Theater Tues- day afternoon, April 20, promises to be a most unique affair.. Mr. Hopkins will be assisted in the presentation by Mr. Julius Tennyson, a grandnephew of the late poet laureate of England, who is a charming baritone, and by Marie Howe, a talent- ed child soprano, who will be given one Of the leading roles. The opera is in five acts end is written especially for children. Mr. Tennyson has the part of Old Munch, the cannibal, and has made a success out of the part in other cities. The remainder of the cast will include Pauline Crupper as ‘Taffy; Ida Linkhow as Sugar, Lilly Taff as Syrup, Nellie Frost as Pepper the Bouncer, Camille Pfizer as Cake, and Helen O’Brien as Candy. Miss Howe will take the part of Nurse, a character in which her sweet voice will be heard to advantage. The recital to be given by Mr. Hopkins 1 Include three numbers—a transscrip- tion by Liszt, an idyl by Maron and a com- pesition of his own, a solo for the left hend. Mr. Hopkins’ reputation as a musi- clan and composef ‘is not confined to this covntry, for his high attainments have been recognized in Great Britain, as well as on this side of the water. ‘One of the rising young soprano singers of this city is Miss May Adelle Levers, daughter of Mr. 'T. F. Levers of the pen- sion office. She was one of the soloists at the last Bischoff concert, and sung Arditi’s “Tl Bacio” in a way that promises well for the young lady. As an encore she sung Pischoft's “Bobolink” very gracefully. Miss Levers will doubtless be heard frequently in concert hereafter. The Erminie Singing Circle was enter- tained at the home of the Misses Wells, No. 10 Grant place, last Tuesday evening. Every member of the club was present, and a new chorus was taken up. Miss Helen Nye displays tact in conducting such a large company, and the club is improving rapidly under her direction. The members enter- tained Mrs. Robinson, Miss Fowler of Ne- braska and Mr. Bently of Philadelphia. Mrs. Robinson favered the company by a selection, “‘The Lion Hunt,” on the plano, and Miss Nye sang ‘'The Holy City.” Other solos were rendered by the Misses Roberts, Henry and Adele Nye and Messrs. Claflin and Bently. Miss Alice Judson.left the city this week to join the Castle Square Opera Company in Philadelphia. . Manager Wolf predicts that Miss Judsom wilb be heading her own ompany i a few years, if she remains in the prof: ion. Miss Judson will sing the title role in Fala «next Wednesday in Philadelphia. Miss Fanny At Lee will be the soprano solgist at the Haley concert tomorrow night. 2 Miss Bertha Lucas‘‘of this city went to Richmond Thurséey, where she appeared as soloist for the ¥. M. C. A. concert given last night.: While in Richmond Miss Lucas was the guest of Miss Ella Augast. The many friends @f the Misses Kieck- hoefer will be gladito learn of their guc- cessful debut at the Waldorf, in New York, on Tuesday evening .of this week, when they gave a’ concertvunder the patronage of a number of préminent ladies, who are quite active in promoting the welfare of young artists. “‘Thé audience far exceed- ed the seating eapacify of the hall, and manifested an encouraging appreciation of every numbet by persistent recalls, and the ‘press notices were decidedly tompli- mentary toward each member of the trio. The Sunday Night Music Club was en- tertajned by Mrs. W. S. Saxton of Kene- saw avenue, Mount Pleasant, the program consisting of the first two movements of Beethoven's Eroica Symphony, the allegra and andante, fiom his First Piano Con- certo, both arranged for four hands piano and string quintet; the first movement of his violin concerto, the solo part by Mr. Lovy, with plano and string quintet ac- companiment; some vccal selections by Miss Bertie Reichenbach. The members present were Misses Pau- line Iseman, Jessie Cowling, Flore Davis, and Messrs. Lovy, Sol Cohen and Harry Glick, violins; Mr. Burbage, viola; Mr. Ulke and Florence Wieser, 'celios, and Misses Annie Marshall and Bessie Moore, pianists. One of the most enjoyable concerts dur- ing the month was that given by Miss Min- nie Voute for the benefit of the altar fund of St. Michael and All Angels’ Church. The concert was a social success as well as a musical and financial one, and a hand- some sum was realized and turned over to the rector of the church, Rev. William R. Turner. The program was an enjoyable one, and consisted of fourteen numbers, embracing vogal solos, irstrumental num- bers and literary features. Each number was heartily applauded, Miss Voute, the leading spirit of the affair, receiving an ovation. Those who contributed numbers were: Mrs. Daisy Louise Fox and Miss Georgia Barrett, pianists; Miss A. Kiein- schmidt, soprano; Miss Cecil McKee, pianist; Miss Fannie Y. AtLee, soprano. Miss Ada Louise Townsend; Henry Stot- ham, basso; Chas. F. Roberts, baritone; E. A. Lovy, violinist; Miss Blanche Muir, con- tralto; Mr. Murdock, tenor; Miss Reichen- bach, soprano; Angelo C. Fronant, pianist; Mr. Field, tenor; Edwin Stone and W. Rayner Phillips. Mrs. Fox’s numbers were particularly enjoyable, although all of them were of a high order of merit. At the close of the concert refreshments were served under the direction of Mrs. Gibson, Mrs. Bryan Morse, Mrs. J. Chase and Miss Ada Glassie. SOAP BUBBLES STRANGELY MADE. A Remarkable Scene Witnessed in the Pennsylvania Oil Region. Brom the Oil City Blizzard. About half a mile above Franklin, up the Erie railroad track, is to be seen one of the most curious sights in this country, and one which the reporter would not believe existed until yesterday, when he went there with a friend. Approaching a small, sluggish stream, we were surprised to see.rising from the sur- face of the water a. number of bubbles, which glistened in the sun like glass. Iti was a beautiful’ sight. The iridescent spheres, revolving swiftly after the manner of soap bubbles,;;floated rapidly upward, some breaking ati height of ten or twen- ty feet, others soaring away above the tree tops and out of:sight, resembling, more than anything else, gorgeous toy balloons. These bubbles were all sizes, from an inch in diameter to more than a foot. They were apparentlysimbéch stronger and a great deal more brilliant than ordinary soap bubbles. de A gas line and anail line had passed un- der the run at this! point, within a few inches of-each other,tand in each pipe was a small leak. The digging and refilling of] the trenches had made a dam which held a few barrels of stagnant water. There was some alkali im the muddy bottom, which, in combination with the oil, formed saponule, a kind of soap. This, while not being a perfect soap, was sufficiently sapo- naceous and cohesive to make beautiful bubbles when churned by the escaping gas. ‘The fact that the bubbles were full of gas caused them to ascend mere swiftly and the presence of the of] made them more brilliant, many colored and unusually beau- tiful. The bubbles are rising constantly and can be seen by any one who desires to take a walk out to where they are. ‘The strength of these bubbles be im- agined from the fact that twigs, leaves, etc., had been floating on the sur- face of the water and were carried up in the large bubbles. that you wan’ servant—a reach o It matters little what it is swhether a situation or “want” ad. in The Star will person who can fill your need. monies may seem, this is so Iniquitous and barbarous that it makes one shudder to think how such excruciating milsery cat be endured by human beings. To exempli! the death of Christ the actual proceedings of a crucifixion are gone through. The one to be crucified is always a volunteer and often there are many, because they be- leve no part of a penitente is so exalting and no death so sublime as that caused by mimicking the actions and travail of our Savior. The selection is vested in the chief brother, Lo Hermano. It is often the wish of the one chosen to be nailed to the eross, and years ago this was the only method practiced, but now he is bound with leather cords, and so tightly are they drawn that the pain is almost as severe as though the nails were driven through the flesh. This part of the play, though similar to the other in its odiousness, is quite different in the manner of production. A little be- fore midnight the Pitofero’s flute is heard in the distance, and immediately a faint light is seen moving about in the neigh- borhood of the Morado, whence a proces- sion of greater proportions and with more horrible surroundings moves up the nar- row street. The counterfeit Christ leads the procession, bearing his enormous wood- en cross, the longer beam of which drags in the road, causing the poor fellow, by its Passage over rough places, to be thrown to tae ground, only to be picked up and started on again. The Pitofero and the one who carries the crucifix and swings the censer, with the chief actors and other A DREADFUL DRAMA! The Passion Play as Enacted in Our Own Southwest. PROMPTED BY SAVAGE FANATICISM Horrible Tortures Which the Par- ticipants Undergo. TO WIPE AWAY THEIR SIN a Written for The Evening Star. IVE OR SIX YEARS ago the American people were much in- terested in the Pas- sion Play, as prac- ticed by the peasants of Oberammergau, | penitentes, follow close behind. but few are cognizant] With the chanting of the women and of the fact that aJ|the incesssnt flogging, the procession of half nude and bleeding mortals moves over the prepared path of broken stone to the place designated El Calvario. When Cal- vary Is reached the procession halts, the man carefully lays the longer beam of the cross on the ground near the excavation prepared to receive it, while the rest form in a circle around the sacred spot. He lies with his back upon the long beam and outstretches his arms along the cross- pieces and in this position is lashed to the heavy timbers. Many lend a helping hand in this part of the performance, so as to make sure that the cords will be tightly drawn. A crown of thorny cactus is made and pressed down over his brow, sending the blood trickling down his cheeks. Passion Play more real and far more in- tense in severity is enacted every year in a supposed civil- ized community, -and the actors are eltizens of the United States. This Passion Play is performed in San Ysidro, Cerrillas, Garcia and a score or more different localities in New Mexico and Arizona. It is said that ten years ago these ceremonies could be seen in every town in southern Colorado, New Mexico, Arizona and some parts of California, but since the advance of civilization have been confined to places remote from railroads or to those communities only sparsely settled by Amer- icans. ‘The Jemez Canon of New Mexico, seven- ty-five miles 1 ortheast from Santa Fe and sixty miles frcm the nearest railroad, is the scene during the Lenten son of one of the most dreadful dramas, prompied by sav: fanaticism, ever witnessed in a ¢ ilized country. The canon is located in heart of a wide and extensive range of mountains and is elevated 6,400 feet above the sea. A rough and narrow road winds aiong the side of the mountain, passing over precipitous ledges of limestone, and down through the little villages, which are dotted here and there over the whole ex- tent of the canon. The houses are one An Agonizing Picture. When all is ready the guy lines are at- tached and the huge cross, bearing its semi-nude, bleeding mortal, is brought to an upright position. When it reaches the Perpendicular it suddenly drops, striking the bottom of the hole with such force as to almost wrench the poor man from ihe cross, and causing the thongs to sink so deep into the flesh that the blood oozes through the skin.. The hole is quickly tamped with stone and pieces of sun-baked adobe, and there a living picture of misery is exhibited suspended in midair. Many gather about the foot of the cross and 2 pray, while others who feel themselves story in height, very plain in construction | on. Wickea . : ed inflict excruciating tortures and built of adobe, which ts a eomposition | CY", Tach cs and. {heir neighbor The of clay and straw baked in the sun. They are inhabited by Mexicans of an indolent and lazy nature, whose customs are as primitive as they were two hundred years ago, and whose language is beautiful, so- norous and flexible. It is these men and women that at this very time are carrying on this most dread- ful drama. Unlike us, who, at this ular season of the year, make amend: our sins by prayer, worship and fas’ most fanatic often throw their nude bodies into the cactus bushes and suffer agonies from the thousands of tiny thorns, which work their way under the skin, causing it to fester and swell out of all proportion. After a half hour or more of this tmost intense suffering, the crucified man, uncon- scious, and with legs and arms perfectly j black from the bonds which secure them to: the cross, is taken down, but not until a signal is . E ‘i en from Lo Hermano. If Lo they, not content with such a mild pen-| trermano chose, and if he had a special nance, inflict injuries and physical pain 2 P Z i 2 grudge against the brother, he could com- upon themselves. It is the general under- | EL) himn to remain an hout ; standing among them that the more in- ee cross. When the signal is at last given t! poor, limp and exhausted man is release’ the ‘crown of cactus removed from his head, and his bleeding body placed on a rude litter, made of heavy timbers, and borne at the head of the procession, which marches to the harsh and penetrating music of the Pitofero, back to the Mcrado, where the man is cared for and nursed back to consciousness by his family and sister penitentes. On the Saturday night following this great occasion there is given a big baile and all members of the brother- hood are present. The one that imperson- ated Christ is the center of attraction, and the most sought after by the senoritas. He is looked upon as a sort of saint for the balance of the year. Years ago the cruci- fixion often ended fatally, but such seldom happens now, as it Is a rare occurrence for a man to choose to be nailed to the cross, though there are some who have been cru- cified by nailing, have survived, and can now corroborate their claims by scars on their hands: and feet. aie HAS THE FISH A MEMORY? tense the physical suffering they endure the more prosperous they will be during the year, and their prospects of inheriting the kingdom of heaven are far more cer- tain. These penitent brothers (Los Her- manos Penitentes) are not the most up- right and best citizens, as one would sup- pose, but, on the contrary, are the least honest and conscientious, being cut-throats avd horse thieves; in fact, they form ‘he worst element of that country. At one time this brotherhood was quite extensive, but the influx of the “‘tenderfoot” has been in- Imical to them; consequently the order is growing smaller at each repetition of the ceremony. Procession of Penitents. With Ash Wednesday and on every Fri- day and two or three saint days during Lent members of.the brotherhood meet in secret at midnight in one of the moradas, or praying adobes, and there ali join in self- torture. They are perfectly nude, save for a plece of cloth about their loins or an abbreviated pair of calzoncillos and a small crucifix hung about their necks; their heads and: faces are completely covered with a sort of cap made with several folds of cot- ton cloth. Upon the arrival of the chief brother, Lo Hermano, the oldest of the sect, they all march in single file to the iglesia, a dilapidated little adobe church, which is some distance from the morado. Those who are not of the penitente broth- erhood keep within doors or in secluded places out of sight of the performers. The fluter (pitofero) heads the procession pla: ing upon a rude flute producing a shrill and weird sound, and is followed by the crucifix bearer, who hoids in his right hand a small image of Christ on the cross, and swings in his left a font of holy water. Then next to the crucifix bearer come those who are doing penance. The first of these supports a huge cross made of rough tim- bers, which is so heavy that he can scarce- ly bear up under it. His hands, arms and back are lashed to the cross-piece with strips of cowhide. Closely following is a brother who is no doubt suffering more than any, but from whom a murmur is not heard. On his back is bound with thongs of leather a large bundie of cacti, and so tightly is it drawn that the ligaments sink into the flesh until it becomes black and swollen, while down his back and legs the blood flows profusely, caused by the thou- sands of nettles that pierce the skin. By the side of the line, bearing a lighted torch, walks a very tall brother with a long flow- ing robe, draped gracefully over one shoul- der and trailing the ground. Lastly come the common penitentes in single file, and as each emerges from the little adobe hut. he begins lashing himself with whips of leath- er, resembling cat-o-nine-tails, while others use cudgels of interwoven cactus stalks. The scourging is so severe that it can be heard distinctly half a mile distant, but unmindful of this and of the blood which trickes down their backs in little streams, they keep up the flogging, until they fall prostrate under their own lash. Within the Church. Just before reaching the entrance to the iglesia, the pitofero ceases blowing his flute and the procession halts. The cruci- fix bearer passes down the side carrying the holy water, into which each penitente dips his instrument of torture, and which by the time the end of the line is reached is crimson with blood. The unearthly music starts up again, and the doleful train enters the church. During the whole time the wo- men follow along the side, caliing on the People to repent and singing lugubrious chants. Their wild notes, mingled with the murmuring prayers of the penitentes, make @ sound peculiarly weird and demoniacal. Up the aisle of the church and before each bench are strewn cacti, broken bits of glass and jagged stone. They are obliged, in or- der to reach the altar, to walk over this with their bare feet, which become terribly cut and lacerated; but they never wince or give the slightest sign of pain. One would really suppose that they enjoyed this sort of thing. After going through many incantations and the swinging of the censer of holy perfume by.the Hermano, the man bearing the huge cross and the one carrying the bundle of cacti, prostrate themselves be- fore the wooden image of some saint and remain perfectly motionless, while the Others kneel upon broken glass and stone, with their bloody backs bowed and shining in the dim light of the glimmering candles, ‘during a long service of prayer. After an hour or so of this indescribable suffering the Pitofero sounds a note and simulta- neously all arise, saye the two who have prostrated themselves before the altar. Four or five of their bréthren assist them to a semi-erect post and with another blow. from his flute Professor Edinger is Seeking for Facts to Throw Light on the Matte From the London Lancet. Professor Ludwig Edinger is collecting information on this point, and writes to us as follows: “Have fish a memory? A re- quest for information. There is a general opinion that fish have some sort of mem- ory, that they can recognize people, know how to find or avoid places where they have made formerly some experiences; that fish which have once escaped the rod know the bait, etc. It is highly desirable that all experience of this kind should be collected in the interest of comparative psychology. The reason is that till now we believed the function of memory to depend on the action of the brain cortex. All experience in man and in the higher animals has led to that conclusion. During the last years it has been proved that fish have no brain cortex at all. They are the only existing verte- brates without a brain cortex. Now, if we could prove beyond the possibility of doubt that fish really have a memory, that they gain experience and can make use of it, then we shall have to give up the till now general opinion that memory has its seat in the brain cortex. Therefore, it is extremely important have an entirely new set of experiences. Professor Edinger then asks all anglers and naturalists to communicate to him any experiences they may have had, re- questing them particularly to take nothing for granted, as the smallest observation may prove of the greatest importance. Professor Edinger's address is No. 20 Gart- nerweg, Frankfurt, Main. Here, then, is a spiendid chance for anglers to tell their pet tales and to throw light on this inter- esting question. Many incidents which commonly occur to anglers would decidedly go against the theory that fish have mem- ories. Thus, a fish which has had a fy broken in his mouth will often immediate- ly take another, and on being captured the broken one may be found still sticking in his mouth, and then it is well known to fishermen that a pike which escapes while it is being played will often again fe- rociously seize the bait if it be at once temptingly offered him. Such well-known facts as these do not at first sight point to any highly developed powers of reasoning in the fish, but before drawing any con- clusions from them, another factor—that of sensibility—must also be taken into con- sideraticn. It is highly probable that a fish hooked with a small flyhook in a grisly part of the jaw feels little or no pain, and therefore if the hook immediate- ly breaks the fish possibly looks upon it as a very slight inconvenience, which in no wise need hinder him from continuing his meal. A fish's brain is a very small mass compared with the weight of the body, and is also small in comparison to the spinal cord. We have no doubt that Pro- fessor Edinger will receive many inter- esting communications from people who are in the habit of studying the habits of fish carefully, and it is to be hoped that some reliable conclusions will be drawn from them. Brom Answers (London). “Of all fads that fashionable people in- dulge in over their pets, I think the strang- est idea is thet of giving their horses meat as a variation to thelr ordinary diet,” said @ veterinary surgeon. “Beef only is used. It is baked until quite dry and hard, then minced very fine, and given mixed with oats or meal. The animals, so far from refusing, seem to rel- ish the mixture, and it is thought to im- prove their condition and courage, but if continued too long they become vicious and their throats deteriorate. glass, stone, cacti, etc, and many are seen to crawl, with their knees bared, on all fours like a dog, to show how humble and penitent they are. Cases have been cited “A well-known titled lady expends a here some of these poor creatures ha’ sized ‘meat died from. the tortures inflicted and the | £00¢-sized sum altogether in meat for her poisoning by the cafTus needles. Upon the Oross. ‘The horrible fanaticisms increase in their severity as Lent poogresses and culminate who frequently gives his hunters beef tea on Good Friday. Gn thia day 1s the an-|and other “mest catracte’ in thelr’ bran nual crucifixion, the great event of the| mash. Possibly it’s not entirely mere fad, season, in which all the penitentes partici- | for there is one London brewery whore _ wiotely sieenes: thamepines 26: Pacehcese OT ron ‘osane Saameseat oventn the last vestige of thelr many past sins. | jast season was given a partial diet of meat Severe and repulsive as the previous cere- | at intervals.” AFTER FORTY YEARS —_>__—_ A Reunion of Mother and Son Who Were Slaves, FROM A (CE CONVERSATION The Voluble Waiter Ta:ks Himself Into Luck. Written for The B This is the ing Star. story of old Uncle Turner Montgomery, sold into slavery in 1855, with never a word from his family for forty years until the other day, when he walked in upon his aged mother, now re! Washington. The reuniting of the reads like a roman the old woman wiil tell you with tes gratitude In her eyes as she thanks Lord that she has been able to s: dent in the her again. The is now a man past fifty, but he holds the same place in the mother’s heart that he did the day she parted from him as a little lad, not knee high to the slave trader who drove off with him During all the long etch of years, when he was working in the cotton fields of Mis- sissippi cr the uplands of Tennesses, his heart went back to the old Virginia stead where he was born « er’s eyes were a yon his old moth- turi gr south and wondered what i picaninny. Neither gave of seeing the other again, and with the childish faitn of their race felt they would some day be reunited, though by what means they never ventured to think. Tidings After Forty Years, It was when the Presbyterian gencral as- sembly met at Memphis, Tenn., some time ago, that it came to pass. Turner Mont- gomery was then a waiter in the ¢ Hotel, where many of th stopping. delegates we At the table over which Turne presided sat a pleasant-looking old genth from Louis, whom Turner had up as being good for a Uberal tip. So he plied his guest with the ch of fried chicken, with the browne fies and the hottest biscuits, keeping up t while a moderate discourse after the fash- ion of the privileged old colored waiter m the south. It was while thus engaged that the St, Louis gentleman, who become inte ested In the old fellow, asked him {f he was a native Memphian. “A Vahe! Niggah.” “No, sah,” he replied, drawing himself up with pride, “I'se a Vahginia nigger, sah; I was raised by de quality folks.” This has been Turrer Montgomery's be ever since he was “sold down the river It was the cne bright spot in his life, the consciousness that he was a Virginian an had been born among the “quality Many a time had he withered the haim- footed field hands of Mississippi with this declaration of his superior social extract st ard position, and dazzled them with the luster of his nobility, Every time ie anged masters with the changing fo! tunes of the time he took front rank among his illustrious compeers by reason of his Virginia birth and his former assocta- tion wita real quality.” “Whereabouts in Virginia did you live continued the St. Louis man, having a wide acquaintance in the old dominion, and think'ng that perhaps Turner nad be- longed to some family that he knew. ‘L wuz bawn in Fauquier county,” said Turner, “and 1 belonged to old Cap’ Lewis Eomuncs. You is sho'ly hear tell ob de Edmunds -fam'ly?’. be continued, conti- . The idea that any one who had been to Virgi could not have heard of the Edmunds family seemed out of the estion to Turner. Knew the Family, “Oh, yes, I know the Edmunds family very well. One of them has been in Ce gress recent] “Ob course,” said Turner, “dat’s natural. I ‘specs two or free have been President since I lef’. “The member of the family I know best,” continued the St. Louis man, “is Mr. Ben Edmunds—* Bless de Law,” broke In Turne was my young master. Ole Mars’ Lewis he give me to young Mars’ Ben for his body servant. Good Lawd Amighty, man, does you know my young Mars’ Ben? Yh, yes, and he had a si: Yaas, indeedy, Miss May Edmunds, sweetest gyurl in Fauquier county, ev body used to say. De Lawd bless my soul, you knows ‘em all.” This convers: dinner table, and old Turner w come with emotion that he had to retire the pantry, where he could do shuffle and cut a pigeon wiag to his exuberance. In the cool of the Turner met the St. Louis man out on the river bank in front of the Gayoso Hotel, and told him further about himself. He Was very anxious to hear from his family, not having had a word since he said go bye to his weeping old mammy at the he de ue- tion bloc The'St. Louts man, who was a Mr. Black, said that “young Mars’ Be was now living near St. Louis, and he would communicate with him. Traces of the Old Mother. This led to a correspondence w sister, “de sweetest gyurl in county,” his Fauquier now Mrs. Payne of Warrenton, Va., which town is not far from Washing- ton. Mrs. Payne had kept track of all the old family servants, and she imme:tiately wrote to Turner's mother, who was living in Washington. In a short time Turner was overjoyed to get @ letter from his old mammy, in which she said: “I am getting old, and hope you will come to see me. It will be a blessing I have long wished for. I have my Bible still, with your age writ- ten in it, all that I had left to remember you.” So the other day Turner walkel in on the old woman. It not the writer's in- tention to attempt to describe that meeting. Just let it pass. The history of Turner's wanderin=:, as related by & competent authority, is as A Slave’s Wanderings. “When Capt. Lewis Edmunds of Fauquier lost his property and was broken up the slaves were sold by the sheriff. Turner Montgomery was bought by a slave dealer and carricd from the Edmunds homestead to Winchester, where he was placed in th town jail, according to custom, until a purchaser for him could be found. The boy was sold and resold as an article of speculation, and was carried in turn to Harper's Ferry, Baltimore and Richmond, and was finally disposed of to a trader who shipped him to Mobile. There he was bought and sént to the plantation of John Robinson. who lived some miles from M con, Miss. Later he was sold to Dr. Gri son, who lived fifteen miles out of Macon. Here he remained until he was made free by the proclamation of emancipation, and even afterward stayed with the family of is former master during the troublous times that followed the war. After he left this neighborhocd Turner went to Te: nessee, living in different places until 1SS2, when he settled down in Memphis. Since his arrival in Washington an@ meeting his aged mother, Turner says he feels like @ boy again, and “is good sling dishes for another twenty years yet. He ts carrying out this intention, and is at present a waiter in one of the hotels, but goes out to see the mother every day and to read her out of the Bible “with the age written in it,” to which the old wo- man clung through all the vicissitudes of the forty years’ separation. ere The New Woman as a Wife. From the Woman's Home It is the man who man who is going to even in | how. ! : if Ho '42$ i e Q & g i $ lier f