Clinch Valley news. [volume] (Jeffersonville, Va.) 18??-2019, 1889-06-14
CHIQUIRIQUITA.

Ny name is Chiquiriquita. NV home is
in Arizona, near the borders of Mexico.
My father is an officer in the United
States Army. ~,
When was II tiny girl without a name,
Sonora Martinez, an aged Spanish woman,
: came to see me. l opened my black
eyes and smiled upon her She muir
INJURED 'Chiquiriquita, which is the
fourth diminuitivc of chico, small, and
means very, very small My mother
called lie Chiquiriquita, then my father
adopted the name. Then the garrison
people followed their example, and finally
was baptized Chiquiriquita Belmont.
There were only two Americans cx-
cept my father and mother whom cared
for. One was old General Ames. had
known him always. He taught me to
sketch and read Spanish and German.
Honoften reprovcd me for wasting my
time,
81 am only little Spanish girl" 1
told him, "and love to swing in my ham
mock, and play on my guitar, and sketch
dark-faced children"
The other American I cared for was
DIR. Warner, the Surgeon of my fathers
regiment. also liked the army mules,
particularly Jack and Juanita, two
gigantic ones. l was fond of John, nv
pet ostrich, who followed me about
everywhere. He was n head taller than
l. His feathers were lovely, gray and
brown. Michael my fathers servant.
put up hammock for me under some
shade trees near the house, and one be-
side it for John, and we swung and slept
in them nearly half the time.
have spoken of DR.. Warner. What
the rainbow is to the dark cloud it spans,
what the fountain is to the desert wan
derer, what the moon and stars are to
the midnight Sky, that he became to me.
To him--I was only his Colonels little
daughter.
One morning I was idly swinging in
my hammock, dreaming, when 1 heard
the sound Of n horses hoofs, and Edith
Ames, her beautiful face looking to me
like the picture of st. Cecilia in the old
church, rode by, accompanied by DR..
Warner. She was granddaughter of
General Ames, of the fort, and had come
to spend the winter in our Southern land
with her grandfather
felt as though the air grew cold
threw my arms around John, who was
asleep in his hammock beside me, and
pulled his feathers so harshly that one
soft gray one fell to the ground from nv
hand.
That afternoon my mother was to give
a grand dinner party in honor of some
guests at the garrison. When I was a
child had fled from these grand enter
tainmcnts attended with much ceremony,
and visited some OF my Mexican friends |;
but now l enjoyed them, for was sure
to be taken in to dinner by my friend,
DR.. Warner.
That afternoon IneZ, my mothers
maid, dressed me with unusual care. I
fancied I looked my best in creamy
white dress with cloth of gold roses, nv
favorite flowers for decoration. / had
almost forgotten my anguish of the morn
ing.
The guests gathered, and MS I went
ABOUT from group TO group, fancied that
the blue-gray eyes of DR.. Warner followed
me with appreciation. I was looking
forward to the dinner hour, expecting to
enjoy my usual pleasant chat with him.
Sans black face seemed that of an angel
messenger ms he announced dinner The
guests followed my mother to the dining
room. DIR. Warner crossed the long par
lor and offered his arm to Miss Ames. I
watched them until they disappeared, then
quietly left the room.
Nc. one noticed me. Ialmost flew over
the burning sand. Blue above me was
the sky-blne as the eyes 1 so loved.
Cloudless and pitiless shone the sun upon
me. Life looked long and limitless as the
great desert so near me ut that moment,
ana just MS desolatc.
No one cared for Chiquiriquital
On, on, went, so wretched and mis-.
cradle that even moments rest seemed
impossible, toward the dear old church |!
AS grew near, to my excited fancy its
gray walls seemed like heavenly city.
could almost hear the three great iron
bells in the oyerhanging roof, silent for
over fifty years, ring out clear and soft
for the fair Castilian bride of 200 years
ago, then chant, deep and low, requiem
for the sanity dead.
pushed open the huge door, entered
the silent church, and threw myself down
before the picture of the Madonna. My
eyes rested on the face of st. Cecilia, her
golden hair floating about her, her beau
tiful hands sweeping a harp, her eyes
turned heavenward. Then I cried ont;
"Oh, Edith Ames, why did you GOMEZ
was so happy. Why? Why7"
"Whya Whyap came back to me
from the dim rafters.