Clinch Valley news. [volume] (Jeffersonville, Va.) 18??-2019, 1890-12-12

jealous sschulo"is impailed. A low cry
OF horror runs through tho throng as the
mans liyid, agonized face rises and falls
with the bulls tossing head. At last he
drops to the ground almost lifeless. He
Is instantly covered by AIazzantini's man
Ito, which comes like the wings of
protecting spirit. The bull again leaves
his helpless victim for tho bit Of red
color. Thunders of applause greet Luis's
successful play aud its author knccls in
bravado on one knee before the cnragcd
bull himself.
This may not be bravery; il certainly
Is not cowardicc. The unconscious VIC
tim of tho sport is carried hastily to tho
hospital and the game goes on. The mis-
lap is soon forgotten in the excitement
Df the day aud is only recalled when tho
Unfortunate man is later on drawn around
The ring, still alive, and reclining in
baroucho.
Again the buglo brays, and now tho
bandcrillero awaits with banderilla in
either hand the critical moment. Tho
bull has seen him and curio usly watches
his every movement. The sunlight play
ing on the mans golden embroideres
and ON the brute's red shoulders and
heaving TANKS presents n scene that is
altogether an interesting one. The crowd
is us still as death. Like flying NIer-
curry the baadcrillero leaps forward. A
run and man and beast meet, and the
bull, believing with rage, vainly tries to
fling off tho singing darts which have
been deity stuck in his shoulders. He
charges here, he rushcs there, only to DO
bafflcd at every point. A second ban
derillero plays his part and other darts
pierce the bulls side. A third then
follows, for the etiquette demands that
every bull have three pairs of banderillas
TO adorn his smarting shoulders.
Again the bugc calls, and tho great
third aud last act is to be played Tho
matador, with blade and cloak in hand,
dolls his cap, and mutters this chant:
toast your worship,
Your noble country,
The people of tho place
Aud the strangers.
BY graceful sweep of tho arm the
matador casts his cap behind him aud
goes forth to battle.
The crowd now prepares for the chief
event. The espada's every motion is
followed by ten thousand eyes. Warily
he approaches tho beast his red cloak
open in his left hand. The animal
charges the red object fcrccly, but in
vain, for flashing over his horns it fiaunts
before his puzzled eyes. Now this way,
now that, he turns and twists, euraged
by this will-o'-thc wisp. Raging, foam
ing, painting he strives to pierce it with
his horns. "Hole! maestro, muy bien,
muy bein," admiringly comments the
:rowd rs with the red mantle the cspado
makes his various passes in rapid and
brilliant succession.
And now the fatal moment has come.
Tho bull stands squarcly on his four
feet, "cuadrado," they call it. WITH
lowered head lie watches the red flag.
Legartijo stands sideways to him and
raises his keen blade to level with his
eye. Hc takes aim calmly along the
edge of the shining steel. The
quivcring cape holds the brute 81 atscns
ton. One step forward aud tho biaaasis
buried to the hilt between tho monsters
shoulders. 4 wild yell OF enthusiassin !:
bursts from thousands OF stfroafs, for the
certain thrust has reached the heart, and
quivering in every limb the dying brute
gazcs from reproachful eyes upon his
hcartless slaycrs.
"And heavily down with his vnst weight he
falls
AS when uprooted falls hollow pine
On Erymanthus or Mount Ida's sido."
A shower of sombreros 1uttered into
the ring, but each is deity flung back
again by the proud victor of tho fight.
Cigars fall like leaves at his feet and are
gathered by the subordinate actors in tho
great national sport. The music plays,
rmacstro" makes triumphant circuit of
the plaza, bowling to the compliments of
the people, while at the crowds insist
ancc IN cur OF the bull is presented him
rs memento of his skillful stroke.
The mule teams then gallop into the
arena, with flashing tassels and jingling
bells, and quickly the slain are dragged
away.
The second bull is a great stupid brute
that, cnticed from the pen by waving
handkerchief, stands indilferently cycling
the turmoil about him. Nantes are
flung III his face, but only arouse him to
momentnry ire. ''Fucral fucra!" lnway
with him, away, shout the people rs he
SHES at the horses and refuses contest
with the lance. But the President will
not order his withdrawal; the beast must
remain.
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