The Milan exchange. (Milan, Gibson County, Tenn.) 1874-1978, 1874-07-02
FOR rHs KING"
NORTHERN MExIco, 1910.
By BRET HAnrE

Ana think that the moral Of all you'll say,
Is the seulpturrd legend that moIds away
On tomb In the choir: ''Por el Rey.P
'POr el Rey.'' Well, the king is gone,
Ages ago, and the Hapsburg one
Shot-but the rock Of The Church lives on.
''Por el Reyp What matters, indeed.
II King or president succeed
To country haggard with sloih and greed,
As long as one granary is fat.
And yonder priest in a shovel hat
Peeps out from the bin like sleek, brown rati
Whist matters9 Nanght, if il serves TO bring
The legend rearer-no other thing
Wen spare the moral, Live the King!'
Two hundred years ago, they say,
The viceroy, Marquis Of MOnte-Rey,
Rode with his reiinue, that way
Grave as beHtted spain's grandee,
Grave the substitute should be
OF Ills Most Catholic Majesty,
Yet from his black plume's curving grace
To his slim, black gauntlets smaller space,
EXquisitc as piece OF lace
Two hundred years ago-e'en So
The marquis stopped where the lime-trees blow,
While Icons seneschal bent him low
And begged that the marquis would that night
take
His humble roof for the royal sake,
And then, as the custom demanded, spake
The house, and all that II might infold,
As his-with the bride scarce three days old.
BE snre that the marquis, in his place,
Replied 10 all with the measured grace
OF chosen speech and unmoved face,
Nor raised his head till his black plume swept
The hem OF he LADY, robe, who kept
Her place as her husband backward slept.
And then q know not how or WHY
4 subtle flame in the lady's eve
Unseen by the c''urtiers standing by
Burned through his lace and titled wreath,
Burned through his body's jeweled sheath,
Till il touched the steel of the man beneath!
(And vet, mayhap, no more was meant
Than 70 point a wellworn compliment,
And the lady's beauty, her worst intent,)
Howbeit. the marquis bowed again;
"Who rules with awe well seTveth spain,
But best whose law is love made plain"
BE sure that night no pillow pressed
The seneschal, but with the rest
Watchs q as was due a royal guest
Watched from the wall till he saw the square
Fill with the moonlight, white and bare
Watched till he saw two shadows fare
Out fr m his garden, where the shade
That the old church tower and belfry made,
Like a benedictOry hand WIS laid
Few words spoke the scneschal as he turned
To his nearest sentry: " These monks have
learned
That stolen fruit is sweetly earned.
"Myself shall punish yOn acOlyte
Who gathers NV garden grapes by night;
Meanwhile wait thou till the morning light
Yet not TIL the sun was rising high
Did the sentry meet his commanders eye,
Nor lhen-till the vlcerOy stood by.
To the lovers Of grave formalities
No greeting was ever SO fine, wis
As this hosts and guests high courtesies!
The seneschal feared, as the wind was west,
A blast from Morena had chilled his restl
The viceroy languidly confessed
That cares OF state, and-he dared to say
Some fears that The king could not repay
The thoughtful zeal of his host, some way
Had marred h rest Yet he trusted much
None shared his wakcfuinessl Though such
Indeed might bet If he dared TO touch
a theme ine-the bride, perchance,
sun slept? At letst, they missed her glance
To give this greeting countenanoe.
BE sure that the seneschal, in turn,
Was deeply bowed with the grave concern
of the painful news his guest should learn:
''Lsst night, TO her fathers dying bed
by priest was the lady summoned;
Nor know we vet how well she sped,
"'But hope for the best" 3" The grave viceroy
Ohough grieved his visl lad such alloy
Must stlll wish the scnesyGal great joy
of bride so true 10 her filial trust!
Vet now as the day waXed on, they must
To horse, If thoy'd 'scape the MONDAY dust.
'Nay, - said the seneschal, Eat least
10 mend the news Of this funeral priest,
Myself shall ride AS your escort, east
The viceroy bowed. Then turned aside
To his nearest followers: with me ride
You and Felipe-On either side,
s'And list! should anything me befall,
Misch4ncr of ambush or musket ball,
Cleave 10 his saddle yOn seneschal!
S'No more.p Then gravcly in accents clear
Took formal leave of his lite good cheer;
Whites the seneschal whispered musketeer,
Carelessly stroking his pommel top,
''lf from the saddle ye me drop,
Riddle me quickly yon solemn fJp!''
So these, with many a compliment,
Each on his one dark thought intent,
With grave pollteness onward bent,
Riding high, and in sight of all,
NicrrOy, escort and seneschal,
Under the shade of the Almandral.
Holding their secret, hard and fast,
Silent and grave, they ride at last
Into the dusty Travelled past;
Even like this they passed away
Two hundred years ago to-day.
What of the lady? Who shall say?
DO the souls Of the dying ever yearn
To some favored spot for the dust's return
For the hOmely peace OF the family urn2
Iknow not Yet did the seneschal,
CHANGING in after years 10 fall
Pierced by Flemish musket-ball.
Call to his side a trusty friar
And bid him swear as his last desire,
To bear his cOrse to San PedrO's choir
At Leon, where meath shield azure
Should his mortal frame find sepulIure;
This much, Tor the pains Christ did endure.
BE sure that the friar ioyally
FULFILLED his trust by land and sea-
'Illi the spires of Leon silently
Rose through the green of the Almandral,
As If to beckon the seneschal
To his kindred dust meath the choir wall.
wot that the saints on either side
Leaned from their inches Open-eyed,
To see the doors of the church swing wide
That the wounds of the Saviour OF timer flank
Blesl fresh. ns the mrurners, rank 20 rank,
Nentby with the colin, clank on clank,-
For why? A? When they raised the marble door
OF the tomb untouched for wears before,
Ehe iriar swOoned on The choir floor;
For there, in her laces and fsstaI dress.
Law the dead man's wife, her loveiiness
Scarcely changed by her long duress;
As on the night she had passed away
Only thst near her dagger lay,
with the written legend, ''Por el Rey.'
What was their greetipg-the groom and bride.
They whom thaJ steel az 8 the years div de?
know not. Here they l-e side by side.
Side by side. Though the king has his way,
Even the dead at last have their day.
Make you the moral. Por el Rey."
-AtidHiic Monthly for july.
MR.. R0WZEY AND THE BEARS.
The following sketch is from an illustra
ted article by Porte Crayon," in Harper
for July. The writer, in company with
party of friends, is on an expedition
through the mountains of West Virginia