The Russellville Democrat., 1880-06-17
Juliet's sleeve and slip it into his watch

 pocket.
 "Then frantic love took possession of the hunter. Day after day, night after night, his wasting form was laid beside the singing cascade; ever he sighed, murmured, dreamed. The strength left his limbs, his blood beat hotly; summer waned and cold winds blew, but never cooled the fever of his brow. Some times after days hunt, returning at evening, he fancied he saw misty out line against the dark steep, but it melted away as he neared it, and instead of a living woman, he reached out to clasp the empty air. Then the warrior began to understand this water spirit was of the race of souls, and as such could not wed a mortal; to possess her, therefore, he must be like her-must die. So one day, when the world was all bright and his soul all dark, when she sung song of wonderful music, he stretched his arms to reach the shadowy siren, and plunged from the black ledge you see wonder into the unknown depths below"
 And was he never heard of after wards?" asked Juliet, while the roses on her cheek deepened in betrayal of her thoughts.
 "Never, hermosura," said the Spaniard, with an admiring gesture, "but old Pueblos about here say two shapes rise out of the spring where there used to be but one, float in the air and hover above it. They are oftenest seen about dusk in the rainy season. I have never seen them myself"
 q wonder if they do show that way?" sad Rosa with a puzzled face.
 "Quien sdbe?" said Oreto mysteriously, at the same time handing her the kernel of pinon nut which he cracked in his white front teeth.
 All this time our stew had been sim mering, gypsy fashion, over the fire, keeping friendly and impatient knock ing at the pot-lid, and was now pro- nounced done. The stout lady reused up from her nap, said she was glad the young Comanche came to his senses at last, and then addressed herself to the making of coffee.
 Oreto favored the whole picnic. He gayly insisted on seasoning every dish. "I will not ruin the otLd for Americans with too much red pepper, he said; "the merest soupcon, as the French put it." Then he contrlved nice, cool-looking salad from some crisp leaves, to me un- known, and served it with deftness and tact that would have graced a cour- tier. To tell the whole truth, the elegant Castilian had So much manner it was rather fatiguing to keep up with him.
 Dinner over, he took large silk hand kerchief and showed how two prisoners of the Inquisition were once knotted to- gether with ropes, and allowed their
  the puzzle on the lovers, who of course struggled violently to be free-I need hardly add, without success. Had he experimented on some of the married couples possibly the result might have been different. Following this was a garcarol about strolling on the Prado, glancing eyes, winged feet and envious veils. "It should have castanets in the chorus; if Senor Brown will lend me his hat 1t will answer"
 Thus appealed to the photographer could not choose but offer his brand new stove-pipe to his guest, who thumped it vigorously to Senor Browns annoyance, who stood looking foolish, bareheaded in the sunshine. And again I marked the size and luster of the diamond ring.
 The singers voice was trifle cracked, but we were not fastiduous, the ladies hung on ever word, and when the song ended the applause was hearty and gen uine. The blonde artist produced flute which, luckily for us, had missing joint, and insinuated he could be prevailed upon to sing; but we knew "The Raven" would be his doleful strain, and upon the hint no one spoke.
 "Now thousand pardons," said Oreto, "tor consuming your time and courtesy, I must have siestd, without which you know a Spaniard is lost forever and a day." From under the seat of the buck board he unrolled short cloak and threw it in Moorish style across his shoulders, lifted his sombrero, revealing a nobly turned head with dashes of gray in the blue-black hair, and his face re- sumed its expression of habitual melan- choly. As he walked off to the shadow of great rock the alImnus from Color ado College, who knows it all, said in a loud whisper: "There goes Don Pom- poso. He feels like the Corliss engine at the centennial.
 The old bachelor shot the fledgling a glance that should have killed him, but tue youth. though poor by nature and exhausted by cultivation, was wiry and did not fall asunder. In fact he never flinched. My thoughts wandered from the gay company and the man who had no respect for "the stranger within the gates," to the lone exile and the varied fortunes to which he had hinted, and said aloud, "The Senor Oreto looks like a man with history"
 I dismiss the picnic in the brilliant of ha nf ha n do mt The editor-in-chief, being also an insur- ures, and gave free rein to his warm not to say firery imagination: "The pic. nic of last week was an event long to be remembered. The day was beautiful nature enchanting, woman divine. Old Baldy lifted his rugged front and showy crown before us and the river sung its sweetest cadence. Among distinguished guests present we name the fascinating Gonzalez Felipe Oreto, cosmopolitan born in old Castile, the friend of our ar tlst Jas. Brown. For aesthetic culture refinement of manner and general ele gance, the versatile Castilian has few equals and no superiors. Rumor has il he will soon lead to the altar fair wid ow well known to our city, and learr with extreme pleasure that he has beer prevailed on to cast in his lot with u and become citizen of the most desir able of all the territories"
 
 Some weeks later I sat working highly useless lamp mat in my parlor which in pleasant Mexican fashion il divided from Johns office by curtaine, doorway. There passed the barred window dapper little man, whipping | his b )ot with short riding whip as h,