Evening Star Newspaper, April 2, 1898, Page 17

SSS Sa SUFFERING IN CUBA Falls Most Heavily Upon the Women and Children. AS A RESULT OF WEYLER'S POLICY A Shocking Case That Shows How the System Works. ee MR. BARKER’S GOOD WORK Wristen for The Evening Star. Spain's warfare is more seriously felt by the women and children of Cuba than by the men who have taken up arms against her sovereignty. In the hills and forests the armed patriots can liv> or die as war- Fiors should, but the unoffending mothers and litile ones must suffer the pangs cf starvation and perish—not through any need of war, but confessedly that the coun- tain-head of a liberty-loving ri stopped, its prog>ny throttled in # end the lard swept clear, in the hope that others of od may be brouzht from Spain ditions te make the colony lo: The method is brutal, barb. Fs the hope i The first-born sons end daughters of § nists are now and ever have been the most uncomprom patriots. It is they who start rebellions. 4s certam that so long as the last vestige Reconcentrados. in's sovereignty remains on the isl- ch succzeding generation will rise volt until that remnant is swept away. peace cannot come under Spain. free, will be peaceful; under Abic The Cuban, Spain he will be always at war. Those who fear that the Cuban is incap- a@bl> of self-government and that he will be @s prone to civil war as are the Spanish de- scendants of y South American repub- hes can rest assured that they are mis- taken. Conditions are all against this. The Cuban is not the half-breed or the degen- erate negro that Spain has represented him to be. His intelligence, his patriotism, his love of peace and his intense Icnging for the approval of the glorious republic so near his shores will all tend to the tran- quil perpetuation of civil law and the sta- bility of civil institutions, estaolished by the people. The shape, size and topogra- hy Of the island will make eazy the maxs. Ing of troops if trouble arises in any of the provinces. It is long and narrow. No great Fivers divide the country and no i mountable mountains pr2vent quick access to all parts. The building of a railroad from one end of the island to the ether will straightway follow the ga‘n if inde- ndence, and this woull make for peace. jad the Spanish government built such a Toad with a pittance from the vast sums wrung from th> Cubans by taxation and customs robbery, it would be an iron band ground its sovereignty. The present upris- ing could ther: have been ended at its in- ception. A Peaceful People. But there is little probability that the Cubans will need a railroad to keep the peace. They are a quiet, homogeneous people. The inhabitants of the six provinces differ not in dress, language, aceent, ambition or ideals, nor in their hatred ef Spain. They have fought so long in a common cause and common enemy that they are together far more p are more compietely one peop’ the citizens of our original thirt immedia after the surrende town. The citizen of Maine differed in all Respects f the citizen of Kentucky in Heme Eefere the War. &@W7i6. The citizen of Santiago and the citi- gen of Pinar del Rio are today twin broth- ers of 4 beloved land. There is quite as large a sprinkling of brainy, educated, pa- triotic men in all the provinces as there ‘was in our original states, and they are quite as cap2ble of controlting their fel- Jow-countrymen and leading them to na- tional power and pr ity through paths of rectitude as were the leaders among our fathers who pointed the way that led to our present grandeur. Cuba has been an unhappy country for hundreds of years. Her people between their many attempts to secure liberty have been educating their children. They this for the greater part in the PI ‘These young men have re- a by the thousand full of republican ideas and the determination to carry them out in their own country or die. It is sur- Brising Low many very intelligent white Their Prese: Cubans are to be met with in the interior the island. The percentage of the ne- Population is about four to ten, and rapidly decreasing. The Cuban negro, ver, is @ superior type of his race, is capable of high cultivation. As a iter in the cause of liberty he is the of the white, in tactics, and he falls the front rank. One Wretched Family. ‘When Gen. Weyler’s order to “reconcen- the pacific population of the little’ and villages that dotted the face the island and made it laugh with hap- and prosperity, the blow fell with effect upen many white families well brought up, refined and The sons, if able to hold a musket, were with it in the bush. There was one family near Sagua la Grande that had a beautiful home. A picture of it oe- fore the war has been sent me by our consul at Sigua, Mr. Walter B. Barker. With it came other pictures which show, in this one instance, the terrible result of Weyler’s inhuman edict. One is a pho- tegrapi: of three members of the family— young women quile as refined in 2>pear- ance as the resy-cheeked daughter of any farmer in the most prospercus section of America. They are good types of Cuban beauty. The awiul condition to which these delicate sister have been reduced is shown in another picture, which depicts the bark hut where they are now forced to live. Its centrast with the home from which they were driven is as great as is the contrast of war under humane coni- tions with war as it is waged by the Span- ish of the nineteenth century. Consal Barker writes that four younger members of this family are dead. They died from Reconcentrados starvation. These very girls cannot leave their hovel except one at a time, for she must wear the only dross they have. It will thus be seen that many of Wey- ler’s victims are women whoe virtues of mind are evident from the pure and intelligent faces shown in the photograpn here reproduced. In fact, there are thou- sands of women just as refined as these who have been driven from homes more attractive than the one shown and forced by Weyler to I in worse huts until death or Christian America relieves them. The girls, the cottage before the war, its ruins and the terrible habitation at present make a strong appeal to the Amer- ican people. Free Frem Exaggeration. Senator Proctor, in his famous speech to the Senate after his return from the dev- astated island, said that no ianguage of his could paint a picture which would truthfully portray the awful condition ‘of the reconcentrados. This speech has thritled the country because it was “unim- passioned and devoid of exaggeration.” nnot be less impassioned » neither can he be freer seration. The photographs fur- nish whai the senator says he was unable to do—a truthful picture of the condition Millage. A Corner of the Stockade. of the wretches wantonly held by Spanish bayonets to starve and die in plague spots, intentionally created on the most fertile land the sun shines on. One of tke photographs gives a street view in a village into which the girl recon- ntrados have been driven. The cots standing in the street were brought from comfortabfe homes in the country, and will soon be taken by the Spanish soldiers. The huts are not suitable for such furniture, and the mud floors are good enough for Cuban women, who, like these beautiful girls, prefer to starve on the ground than accept conditions that will give them the comforts of the officers’ quarters. Still another picture shows the stockade ult around some of these reconcentrado villages. The view is taken at a corner, and discloses a guard house. The stockade is of palm trees, driven tightly together and sawed off about five or six feet from the ground. ‘The effect of these long lines, stretched for miles around a village, is pe- culiar. It makes a picturesque fortifica- tion, but one ill-designed to resist an at- tack of well-armed troops. It serves its purpose, however, in Cuba, for it keeps the starving natives from going out into the country for something to eat, and defies the assaults of the Cuban insurgents when they are not armed with cannon. Consul Barker's Good Work. Corsul Barker has done more than any ene American to alleviate the reconcen- trados than any other man. For the last year ne has spent more than $150 a month in excess of his salary to feed the starving people. It was while waiting for food and supplies from the United States that this brave and generous consul in despair sent his resignation to the State Department. He was seeing so many terrible sights and so much suffering which he could not re- lieve that he asked to be taken away. Luckily, supplies arrived before the de- pertment had acted, and Mr. Barker re- mains where he has done so much good and where he has represented the United States with so much tact, loyalty and suc- cess. He has reduced the distribution of sup- plies to a science. The worthy applicants are enrolled at the consulate and receive frem the consul an order for fuod. This is presented to the storekeeper, who de- livers the articles called for and retains the order. Mr. Barker has caused to be printed in Spanish at the top of the order 4 bold line saying that the food is a gift frcm the people of the United States of America. The Spanish do not like to have this fact so well advertised, but Consul Parker believes that the donors should re- ceive due credit. THOMAS GOLD ALVORD. = Popes of Humble Birth. From Tit-Bits. Sixtus V, who was one of the most able and powerful pontiffs that ever reigned and ruled, was the son of a poor swineherd at Montalto. Taken from his position as swine keeper by a Cordelier, who was pleased with his quickness and-intelligence, he was placed in a convent. There he made such rapid progress in learning that he was admitted into holy orders, and be- came doctor and professor of divinity, whereupon he took the name of Montalto. He was made a cardinal in 1570. After the death of Gregory XIII the cardinals united in electing him to the vacant chair in 1585, He was inflexible in the administration of justice, and built the Vatican library, which alone was sufficient to make his reign a memorable one. Peter Philargi, cardinal of Milan and afterward Pope Alexander V, was born of a humble family in Crete. He knew neither father nor mother. As a beggar boy in the street, he was taken and educated by a friar minor. Adrian VI, who was born at Utrecht on March 2, 1459, was the son of a ship carpenter of the name of Floris; Pius IV, the son of a peasant, and Pius V, the son of a shepherd. Gregory VII, surnamed Hildebrand, pope from 1073 to 1085, was the son of a carpenter of Soano, in T '. babe Be His Mistake. From the Chicago Post. “What do you consider the greatest mis- take of your life?” asked the chairman of the committee of women that was looking into ‘the comfitions existing te the: pomites: up good cash to a poor lawyer,” the convict, who had just ‘Chicago Post, . ass Eee STAR, SATURDAY, DLS se WHAT MEN WILL WEA Easter is the Season for Donning Bright Raiment. NOVELTIES IN HOSIERY AND SHIRTS Wherein the Spring Suit Differs From Its Predecessors. eS SHOES AND GLOVES + HATS, Bectal Correspondence of The Evening Star. NEW YORK, April 1, 1898. TENDENCY THAT grows with every year is to allow men more and more vari- ety in their choice of dress, especially at this season. For man as well as wo- man, Easter is now recognized as begin- ning a period when new and gorgeous hues may make their appearance. ‘To be sure, he is and must always remain a long way behind his sis- ters in this respect, but the young man who follows London or even New York in selecting his spring outfit will be permitted a range of colors that would put to shame Joseph's celebrated attire. To begin at the beginning, which is un- derwear, the kind that the fastidious young man will wear this spring is dark in color, seal brown or blue, with a fine horizontal line of white or green or dull red. its ma- terial will be governed by his means, and may be anything from fine cotton to silk. Hosiery and Shirts. The individual who designs hosiery has let his fancy run free, and there is a be- wildering array of checks, stripes and dots in every possible combination. Some men insist on clinging to plain and modest black and their taste can never be called in ques- tion. Still there is no reason why a man should not indulge his artistic taste in the selection of hose if he will do it in moder- ation. A good rule to follow is never to wear hosiery that will compel the gaze, if by chance it becomes exposed to view. With a woman it may be different, but a man’s lower extremities are seldom 80 pleasing to the eye that he can afford to call attention to them. In shirts the greatest range of color is allowed. Last season London set the bold example of wide, contrasting stripes run- ning across the bosom, and the fashion- able shirtmakers are showing cloths of similar design this spring. But the prison stripe hus taken in this country only with the sporting fraternity, faddists and men who order their shirts by the dozen. The mcdest man still prefers a lengthwise stripe of blue, red or heliotrope, in which plenty of variety of patterns can be found. In selecting a spring suit a man should be governed somewhat by consfderation of the extent of his wardrobe. If it {s limited and he is under the necessity of wearing the same suit several days in the week, he would do well to avoid certain patterns which, though attractive in themselves, become prominent by too frequent wearing. It is inconventent for a man if his friends and fellow-citizens can always identify him by his clothes. The Coming Spring Suit. The prevailing shades for business suits are brown and gray, which are tp be had In close checks, loose checks and plain mixtures. They come in both rough and smooth fin- ish, but in the lighter cloths intended for summer wear smooth goods seem to be reasserting their supremacy. The sack suit should be made up with three buttons, and only the two lower side pockets. The little change pocket has followed the upper treast pocket into oblivion. Coats are cut to medium length, not quite as abbreviated as last year. A novelty that some of the extremists have adopted for sack and cutaway suits is a rough Scotch cloth, known as heather, which feels as coarse as a bran bag. It 1s geen in loose checks of striking dimensions, for it is a London invention. They will paobenly, last no more than a month or wo. Another new thing which was fore- shadowed last fall consists of indistinct stripes, perhaps a quarter or half-inch wide. In this combination there should be no contrast and the nearer the two shades ap- proximate the better. The blacks with very thin red or white lines, that were worn last fall, are dis- tinctly out of date, but the stripe effect can be had in plain black by means of a fine rib. It produces a neat effect when made up in French worsteds. But the rib should not be too pronounced. The cutaway, as a semi-dress garment, has had its ry. It is now designed for morning wear, and is made up in the same materials as ‘The only appropriate coat for street dress wear is the frock, which is still made in soft vicunas and unfinished - worsteds. gE i : woe BE Z ® G id Hi i HE i as well. The four-in-hand persists as it has for years, but the scarf with flowing ends, known as the imperial, has the call just now. It is tied in a close knot and may be worn with the high turn-down collar as well as the ordinary stand-up kind. The other kind of tie that will be worn is the string, which has found popular favor be- cause it reveals the beauties of a handsome shirt to advantage. The high turn-down collar should have straight edges or corners gently rounded. The edges of this and the plain standing collar should fit closely together in front. Hat, Shoes and Gloves. The new derby hat is made with fuller crown and a little more ample curl of brim than the style of a year ago. The proper shade is seal brown, or, of course, black. Every year about this time the little round- topped London derby makes its appearance on our streets, but sensible Americans re- fuse to tak kindly to it. For variation with the derby the Alpine is always appro- priate in the spring and autumn, but the fastidious man will not wear the gray with black band. Either a pearl, with pearl } bend, or a light brown is in better taste. The particular young man will exercis> care in the selection of his shoes. The razor toe is an exiled abomination, but the extremely blunt bulldog shape is little bet- ter. A medium rounded. toe, with a cap of generous length, ts the most ‘satisfactory. The proper thing in spring gloves is a reddish shade of kid. Edam'cheese comes nearest to meeting it of-anything I know. Golf and Bicycling Styles. Golf and bieycling have becgma such pop- ular sports in America that they have come to require a distinctive dress, The proper cutfit for the 1808 golfer is a black sack coat, breeches of pronouhced plaid or check and plain brown stockings, with Franch plaid tops. The cap should be made to match the breeches, or in liarmony with them. As golf attire s:worn off the links as well as on, in the country, a soft shirt of French muslin or pereale,, with a stock tie, will complete the costum? nicely. About the only new thing offered to bi- cyclists this season is In sweaters, which have developed into. much. more dressy gar- ments than formerly. .Dh2y are made in green or red or. brown, with white stripes about the wrists and collar and lace up in front. THE BACHELOR. ——_+ e+ CHRISTIAN ENDEAVOR NOTES The Christian Endeavor Socisty of North Presbyterian Church has elected the fol- lowing officers for the ensying year: President, John Stewart; vice president, Mamie Lowry; corrasponding secretary, Louise Bell; recording secretary, Louise Shuman; treasurer, Howard Omohundro; chairman of Bible reading committee, George J. Davis, jr.; welcoming, Howard Omohundro; lookout, W. J. McClelland; calling and relief, Louise Bell; music, Katherine Hendricks; missionary, May Goodroan; temperance, Mamie Lowry; sceial, Ursula Shuman. Despite the threatening weather on Sun- day morning last, 1,304 persons ware pres- ent at the roll call and chapel car day ex- ercises of the Calvary Baptist Sunday school. Features of the service were an address by Mrs. Wheeler of Philad2lphia, on the chapel car work of the American Baptist Publication Society, and the offer- ings which were gathered in boxes made to repres2nt the chapel cars. Four of these cars are now in operation, and two more are being built. At the recent annual meeting of the Sun- day school of New York Avenue Presby- terlan Church the following officers were elected for the ensuing year: A. J. Halford, superintendent adult department; C. A. Baker, superintendent intermediat> de- partment, Charles Nesbit, assistant super- intendent;" Mrs. Flint, superintendent primary department; H. W. Jencks, secr2- tary; Edward Tarring, assistant secretary; Theo. T. Snell, treasurer; W. H. Somervell, Vbrarian, The second annual social of the District C. E. Union, to which are invited pastors and wives, and officers of all societies of the union, including delegates to the union executive committe, and junior superin- tendents, will be given on next Monday evening at Calvary Baptist Sunday School House, in connection with-the meeting of the axecutive committee of the union. The social is in charge of the correspondence committee of the union, and a musical and literary program will be furnished by the good literature and music committees. Mr. R. E. L. Smith and Mr. W. W. Everett, the Nashville "98 transportation committee of the District C. HB. Union, are bustly at work completing arrangements for the trip to Nashville in July, so that @ prospectus may be issued. They expect to have a special train or trains of the finest vestibuled day coaches, and to do all the traveling in tn3 day time, thus adding to the comfort of the trip cS reducing the expense. The plan now! which, however, is quite liable to be-c! is to leave hers the morning of July 4 Stop at Luray Caverns and spend fhe first night at Natural Bridge; the nd “hight will be spent at Lookout Mountain, and Nashville reached the next #. Returning, the first night will be at Lookout Mountain and tha secon@ at Roanoke, Va. The Endeavor Society%of Mount Vernon Place M. E. Church South hd’ a committee at work raising funds for tiie purpose of putting a window in the urch to the mzmory of Miss Annie E. shtman, one of their early members who‘ied in Balti- more last Thanksgiving’ day The return- ing of their pastor, Re@ J. 'W. Duffey, to them for avother year is very’gratifying to these Endeavorers, as he is much liked by them all. Mrs. Duffey accompanied him on bis trip to conference. » ome Tomorrow's Christ! Endeavor topic is “The Grace of Hi a Rev. F. ©. Clark, president of the United Society of Christian Endeavor, is this ysar one of the preachers at Cornell University. Boeke at has eng it Vermont lety n a Avenue Christian Church. APRIL 2, 1898-24 PAGES. How I came to Corpus Christi in Sonora I need not tell; and I am glad I need not, for it is at the best a shameful story. Yet there I fancied I could put my past away. I was sure those I had wronged would not follow me so far, and I felt safe—if a man can be safe from his memories. For mem- ories now and then would come, would bother; then I longed for money with which to make restitution with a hurried desire. For what I had left was but a pit- tance to keep me for many years in this simple Mexican village. I had lost most that I had stolen in many ventures, taken in the vain hope. Have you ever been in Mexico? Can you imagine that village far away over the border—its long sunny street, between the adobe houses; its listless folk, with more of the Indian than the Spaniard. High above on both sides were the street scat- tered slopes of the mountains; and a quar- ter mile up the valley, on a rounded hill, stood the old monastery of Corpus Christi, builded, it was said, by a generation that had known Montezuma. Who knows? Per- haps the monks did—these few brown- cowled brothers, the survivors of the great order. As I sat, idly smoking, I won- ~ THE CAVE OF AVARICE. WRITTEN FOR THE EVENING STAR BY CLINTON ROSS. (Copyright, 1898, by Clinton Ross.) PUL ANY: XS EES ‘ WONT wn USES) dered at them, thinking how much easier @ monastery might have been for me. I myself did not make the acquaintance ef the monks. The villagers sometimes chatted with me. I knew all the affairs of my fat landlady and her black-eyed daugh- ter, about whom three young fellows were passionate. These folk had been curious when I had appeared on donkey back from over the slope. But habit stifles curiosity, and I lived on, almost the sole guest of the old inn. For the mountain village was out of the way of travel; centuries had passed since it had been a station on the route to the now long-abandoned silver mines of the mountains. And days and months passed for me as they will in such an out- of-the-way place, where the events and talk of the world seem of no moment; and as I say, I longed with an ever-increasing desire for all I had frittered away—honor and position and love I had lost in the New England town, where the winters might be bitter and the summers fierce, but where the old habit of my Anglo-Saxon blood called. Ah, if I only had money to repair that wrong. For gold I longed, and of its potentiality I dreamed. I had been at Corpus Christi a year be- fore the two who were to b3_ my com- rades appeared. One—I knew him es John Fenton—was a little, clerky, bookish man with a certain fright always in his sunken eyes; yet plainly a man of gentle breeding. The other, who called himself Dorden, was his antithesis, a burly, red-faced, oath- flinging bravo. What interests, I wondered, did they have in common. But I did not dare ask them of their past, of their bond ef union, lest they should ask of mine Possibly they hai the same reason, for they never inquired. We knew that we belonged somewhere over the border. Iso- lation and the same conditions of past make strange companionship. In despera- tion—among these simple village folk—I struck up a friendship with Dorden. Many a sunny day we passed in the shaded court of the inn, playing gloomily with a greasy pack Dorden On one thing we agreed; we wanted money; that alone would repair the cloak of respectability we had worn threadbare. As we talked little Fenton would smile glcomily, and would disappear up the slope to the monastery. For he strangely had made an acquaintance there; and every day he would return with a pile of old manuscripts from the brary of the place; records, forgotten by scholars—of the early history of Sonora. Then Dorden let drop the only remark he ever had about the pasts of either; Fenton was a scholar, a linguist, who had been a tutor at a New England college. Again I wondered what had brought together these two, so dissim- ilar. One evening—ah, I never may forget it!— we were sitting by flickering candles in my room, Dorden and I, at our gaming, and Fenton reading a manuscript he had brought that day from the monastery. The monks, an illiterate lot, did not care for, or note, their treasures of the time when Spzein was great, and her venturesome gen- tlemen were about these far mountains— se:king gold and its power. Possibly these brothers of Corpus Christi wondered at this pale, little-faced man, who amused his exile with papers that to them had no value; for, as I have said, scholarship had died in that cloister. “If it were so,” said Fenton, looking at us suddenly. “Eh, what's so, Bob?” said Dord2n. “That Miguel Santos left his treasures in the mountains back from Corpus Christi.” [—,”" said Dorden, “stop your —— lingo. No such luck.” “Luck!” said I wearily, maligning my own. “Listen,” sald the little man, whose past I say I wondered at, and he read: “In those days the governor ruled Sonora not so much as Miguel Santes. Nay, San- tos laid tribut2 of the governor, and of all who passed; and Miguel Santos’ wealth was great beyond imagination. Yet every piece of gold, they say, was blood stained!” “There are others,” said Dorden, dealing the cards. “Listen,” said the other rather eagerly. “But in his old age remorse seized San- tos, and he retired into the monastery of Corpus Christi, whéfe he led in every #e- spect a saintly Hfe—save in the single one, that he made no restitution. To this day 3 = “Read It!” the treasure is hid in the mountains— wealth greater than all the King of Spain ever had from Peru.” “Eh?” said Dorden. “I wish I'd it. It’s something, Bob, to know as much as you about languages.” But Fenton looked at us both as if he knew still more. From the table he took @ piece of yellowed parchment and held it against the candle. “He seems to have been,” said Dorden “a sort of Cap'n Kidd. I s’pose they’ been diggin’ and diggin’ in °em mountain: “Wait,” said Fenton, quietly. “Up there in the library of Corpus Christi there’s ¢ pile of ancient manuscripts that no one seems to care at all about—the account books of forgotten abbots, things of no earthly use except to thi tiquarian the historian. But they’ve amused me.” “You fellows ‘re easily amused with ‘em ks, ged over it m the old days before the mine to wnich it ied had been Yes, it told of old interests, old passions. On We went doggedly, through the thick growth, no ore of us with a word, mutely following Dorden's lead. Two hours mu: have passec—the growth made it tedious! siow—before at last we saw the Mgh pro- Jecting rock. Yes, the rock then existed! My heart beat uproariousiy, and 1 knew how my companions felt from the pallor even Dorden displayed. From the western side, at the center of the rock's base, he began to pace. “One, two—” Fenton and I followed. Yes, there was the sheer face of the cliff, and the thick trees and bushes at its foot. We stumbled on over the layers of rotting trunks and leaves. A snake, so deadly in Sonora, ran out before him, yet Dorden persisted, and again we were favered, for we came di- rectiy, with scarcely an error, on the open- ing. Dorden had crought a ‘machete, and now proceeded to cut the bushes aw: thea we heerd a low, distant rumble, sutdued thunder. “The river,” Fenton cried at this repeated evidence. But what we saw was more en- couraging; for the cave stopped at about twenty feet. It was walled by masonry, licken-covered. A hundred wriggling crea © So I broke open the seal. Then I found his paper written by the dying Santos.” ‘You don’t say! Who'd have Dorden exclaimed. had some trouble in making it out,” Fenton went on. “Well, what of it?” said Dorden. “Does he tell where the money’s to be had? We can go back to New York and float a com- thought pany. “The Santos Treasure Company, $10,- tures were on the surface. But here w: — in. A few chances at 50 | indeed, wi Miguel Santos, dead a full 2 2 century and a half, had promised; and “Listen, you fool,” said Fenton eagerly. “Here is what is’ written: ‘I, the monk Ambrose, once Miguel Santos, do confess. When I am seventy, and in sécurity, I be- think myself that ‘death cannot be far away. The church declares that the wick- ed shall be burned forever. If that be in- deed true—and no man ever came back to deny it—it behooves me to prepare. 1 have thought me of the treasure I gained evill Should I restore it to those whence I sh and sweet, due to the wate: taken? But the lust for gold makes more | ard now in’a deafening ro crime than the lust for woman. It has | ‘Then the rush of air seemed to stop. I seemed to me, then, that I should put this | den had no difliculty in lighting th treasare away where no man should find 1t. | pa feeble g I know now my sin I could not part with that which has cost me so much—perhaps even my soul. To the cave of the under- there was the iron door, rusted and dl colored, so that we wondered if, indeed, it would answer to the pressure on the up: per left-hand corner; wondered if in all the years the treasure had not been taken, Again it was Dorden making the trial,while We stood waiting. The road to riches—to the cave of Santos’ avarice—seemed easy, indeed. The air that swept our faces was sin- a. on the edge of a vast ipice, with the undistinguishable mass aw We were ground river I had the casks carried. Then | of the roaring river, far, far below. We I had a wall built twenty rods from the | all three turned about, our faces blanch- cave's entrance, and I walled the treasure | ing. And then a strange thing occurred. there against the roar of the stream t Sees no light. Twenty men worked at this: and I watched, leaving a guard down the slope. In the wall is an iron door, which opens if you touch it at a certain spot. r A pale, white light began to be diffused. I could not account for it then; though now I understand that the shifting sun had reached some opening along the course of that underground river. It was a vast THEY DISCOVER THE TREASURE. When the work was done I gave the la- borers poison, and in the morning all lay dead. (God rest my soul.) One by one I took the bodies— “He took the bodies?” said Dorden, lean- ing over. “‘All that stuff is buried up in 'em mountains?” “* “I took the bodies through the door in the wall to the cliff over the underground river and droppped them in, one by one. Then I returned to my followers, who guarded be- low, saying I had sent the other score into Chihuahua. And then I discharged all and came down the mountain to the monastery, ond to the abbot I said: “I would repent me of my sins!” “First,” he answered, “thou must give all thy treasure to Mother Church.” Then I lied, and told him I had squandered it all. “I said to myself that “for one who has committed so many sins, the death of twen- ty men and the lie to the abbot cannot add to the burden.” For, from that time on, I should lead me a life of prayer, of repent. ance. So in truth have I tried to live save twice a year, when I have visited the cave of th2 river. Then I have gloated over the coffers on the cliff in the cave. Then voices have come up from the river, and said: “Accursed, accursed!” Yea, accursed it. May it curse some other as it has me; any stream, indeed; a sheer fall of many hun- dred feet, as we now were able to see. The farther shore we couid not tell in that half light—now it had become almost like early twilight; but it seemed to me as broad as the Hudson. Whence did it come, and whither were those waters carried in their But I was interrupted by Dor- He was pointing toward a pro- ff, which hung out far oyer the water. It was approached by a harrow neck, so that it formed a peninsula jutting into the air above the roaring waters. The j space might have had a diameter of fifty feet. But what we saw astounded us even in our expectations, now raised by the suc- cess of every step of the search. On this space were above a score of iron chests, their lids al! opened, revealing in the in- creasing light the sheen of diamonds, the blue and green ef sapphires and the glow ot rubies. They lay there beckoning, Miguel Santos ‘had left them. From of the chests was the absort giare of golden coins; so many that in the moment we could rot calculate their num- ber. Yet we knew that here was wealth such as Croesus’ incalculable riches of gold and precious stones. But why had they been put on that jutting rock, I ques- tioned? monk or man who may find It. Here the | _1 don’t bell-ve the others even questioned, writing stops,” Fenton said. “But there is | Now that we could see quite plainly, Dor- one line more in another hand, “The devil } dem cast the candie down into the depths, and almost ran toward the treasure. 1 saw him dizzily rushing along the narrow pas- sage, and kneeling before one of the chests, and crying out like a maniac. Fenton wag close behind him, gloating over the jewels. As I followed he picked from one of the chests a pizce of manuscript. “What is this’ he said, holding it up, for the light now was strong enough for us to read by it. “More of Santos’ words!” he added. “Look at the gold, not papers,” Dorden cried. But the instinct of the scholar mas- tered Fenton even in that moment. “Migu2! Santos’ writing,” he said; and slowly he rendered: “Gold thou comest_by dishonestly shalt curse thee always. For sin must be pen- ance. Fool, thou shalt perish with thy gold and thy precious stones. The punish- ment of God on the miser is that he shall not kzep what he glvats on.” “Fool!” came Dorden’s voice, hissing over our shoulders. I looked at him aimost fear fully, for there was a maddish glare in his eyes. Suddenly, like a fiend, he threw him- self on us both. “It shall be mine,” ho cried. “Only mine.” ‘The onslaught car- ried us al Ithree near the edge, Fenton and I struggling to hold him back. In some way—God knows how—I disentangled my- self, and turned just at the edge. My com- panions were not there; but from afar was a little splash while a voice cried out, in horrid despair—it indeed may have been my strained imagination, and yet, inde2d, it may have been Dord “Cursed! Cursed!” ca: cry. Fearsome, I say, for I ‘Was acroes the narrow has the soul of him who was known to the world as Miguel Santos.’ ” “What a fool that old chap was, any- way,” said Dorden. With all that money he might have had a time fit for a king, without botherin’ himself about hell.” “With all that money,” I said. “Do you suppose it’s there now?" “Do you ‘spose it is? It fairly makes my mouth water,” Dorden observed. “If it were there,” sald the pale-faced Fenton, “I've given up so much—to get money. “No more than I,” said Dorden. “No more than I,” said I. But I was watching the yellowed parch- ment which Dorden was holding, as I have said. low over the candle. Black lines were appearing there. I gasped as I saw them. Was this that old secret? Had he written it on the back of the confession? Should We know it, then? Should we get the gold with which I might make my restitution? “The paper’s back, Fenton!” I cried. Fenton turned the paper, scared, while Dorden sent the greasy pack scattering. “Rea id it—for God’s sake, read it! Can you?” Fenton reaé in a low voice: “As thou followest the disused road to the silver mine thou wilt come about five Spanish miles to a projecting rock. Going to the western side of the rock, pace due west fifty yards, which will bring thee against the clump of bushes by the cilit- side. Under these thou wilt tind the open- sng of the cave. Push the upper-hand cor- ner of the iron door and it will swing open, and thou wilt be cursed as was Miguel Santos.” “Its gospel truth, then,” said Dorden. that he was cursed,” said ienton, start- ing. “D— the curse,” Dorden replied; “that the treasure is there!” “Yes, it may be there,” said Fenton, ris- ing. “But the old road the fellow speaks 0’ ‘Haven't you read o’ it in that fearsome was fleeing. I and as I with Span- Jewels, and perhaps with the bones of men, Yet most of that “You poer limp fool,” Dorden said con- temptuously. “Now the first thing is for us to go to bed.” He seemed to direct us like a captain, and we ~eadily allowed him the leadership. I Yet I fanciea dangerous in his aoa side oun- eyes, and 1 remember that atter 1 was in Saba, thiektnk OF thee sont of Souaee eee: bed I arose and bolted my door. What if “those of my two late companions—God the dream were not a dream? Ay, what them! For mein the few years left if we should find that treasure? And then | thers is peaance for my ‘and so I have the came over the monntain top—the my crime was done. As for the mountath, perhaps, of the cave of the river. of the cave of avarice, 1 would not aig nd aut atte pee en, ene touch them, even for the comfort of resti- Sips momar promi we to Won aban tt Siiaae ‘the Ba ‘was @ mar- in the state of Sonora. “Nature, s0forceful in Mexico ‘A Prerequisite. - i ef