Bradford reporter. [volume] (Towanda, Pa.) 1844-1884, 1867-02-21

few moments, while he eyes his foes,
who await his attack motionless as
statues, each horseman fronting him
with firmly-leveled spear. He dashes
madly at the nearest of his foes in
vain the spear opposes him horse
and rider roll over with a crash
There is no time now to see whether
he is killed, for the bull, despising his
PROSTATE foes, rushes at the next
and the six picadores are ignomini.
ously overthrown in as many seconds,
Some vault over the barrier, whilst
others are helped to rise by the "chu-
los," and make a hasty retreat. On
ly one of the horses remains stand
ing blinded and bewildered, the
poor beast staggers about the sandy
arena with his entrails trailing on
the ground, a horrible mass of blood.
The bull, now IN the centre OF the
arena, is saluted with one universal
shout of delight" bravo toro viva
toro p But he glares round at the
applauding crowd with blood-shot
eyes and bleeding head, for he has
not escaped without some severe
wounds, and looks as though he would
like to clear the barrier and destroy
the whole crowd of his tormentors,
when his eyes suddenly alight upon
the poor staggering horse. Immedi-
ately he bends low his CORY and foam
covered head he paws the ground
for few moments savagely with his
hoofs and then, receding slightly
and growing lowly he makes a
sudden and fierce bound. Do you
hear that hollow crash ? His horns
have pierced through and through
the wretched animal, whom he bears
bodily up in the air for an instant,
and then dashes him against the bar
rier with a shock which seems to
make the place tremble. The ap-
plause is now redoubled handker-
chiefs are waved by fair delicate
hands and bravo toro !" resounds
on every side. After a short pause
the "bandilleros," with their sheaves
of little darts, leap over the barrier.
They run fearlessly, one after the
other, up to the bull, each dexteroue-
ly fixing in his streaming hide his
small barbed and baLnered weapon.
The bull, wild and distracted with
the number and agility of his enc
mics and the stings of the darts,
blindly rushes, first at one, then at
another, and now stands still few
moments, roaring with rage and vain
ly trying to shake off the futtering
arrows. The "chulos," with their
colored cloths or wells, now run up to
him, tempt, taunt and dare him to at
tack them. One man holds the OBJ
noxious veil low upon the ground,
and as the bull, with bent head,
makes a rush at it, jumps nimbly
over his horns, amidst the "vivas :"
of the spectators. All ! that bold
fellow with the blue vail is surely
caught. No, not yet but the bull
is close upon him. With head low
bent he makes a rush he has him ON
his horns. No; the nimble "chulo :"
has vaulted over the barrier amongst
the spectators, leaving his veil, how
ever, behind him, which the bull tears
into a thousand tatters. Mad with
rage and painting with fatigue, he
moves slowly into the centre of the
ring, glaring savagely around him,
sole and victorious hero of the scene.
The laughter and shouts which
greeted the lively "chulos " subside;
a death-like silence pervades the
whole place. The bull seems to
know the meaning of it by instinct.
He stands motionless himself, and
gazes duly around him. The door
again opens now enters the mata
dor slim, 1.-THE, and debonnair. He
bows to the royal box, and then,
marching jauntily up to the bull,
stands fully in front of him, and with
one arm outstretched holding his
bIood-red banner, with head and body
erect, feet firmly planted together,
and the right arm tdrawn back, he
points his light straight sword at the
BULBS forehead. The action is sig
nifcant. 1t is a language the bull
appears to understand perfectly
" touch me and you die" Thus mo-
tionless they remain facing each 9th
er for some few moments. The "ma-
tador" becomes impatient. He wav-
es his red banner before the bulls
eyes to enrage him. With a low
moan, the bull holds down his head,
paws the dust with his forehoofs, and
backs slowly for some yards, his eyes
still fixed upon the blood-red banner.
The matador" follows him up,
again assumes his position, and again
waves the banner.
The bull now rushes forward
Quick as lightning the steel is driven
into the nape of his neck. He halts,
and is about to fall, when,
with one violent effort, he sends the
sword, still vibrating with the blow,
up into the air. What roar of rage
pain and despair echoes through the
amphitheatre, crowded with animals
more savage and brutal than the ami
NAL they thus delight to see tortured.
1t was pitiful to see the poor beast,
as he staggered up to the barrier for
Pity, Indignation and dis
gust moved us by turns. What can
these people be, who find pleasure
in such cruelty, such inhuman and
bloody work, and think it good sport?
Our whole heart was with the brave
bull but in vain. No one can help
him-he must die. The matador y
has regained his sword, and again
his devoted victim. The
animal, worn out, woun-
ded, and ore-knowing his fate, as he