Smyrna times., 1892-06-01
CARMELITA.
BY NORA GOING.

d NOASA UOlNOs
"Carmelita! Carmelita! My bonita
Sing to me-"
The scene is a familiar one in old
Mexico.
In the little village of Tia Juana, the
evening is coming on, bringing that
cool breeze that stirs the beautiful
palm and pepper trees, which, through
the hot Mexican day have remained
motiOnless. The old adobe houses
crumbling with age; near by, the
PADRES house, little better than the
rest, standing on the banks of the
river.
The man was a swarthy Mexican
rancherOs, bent and old, with hard
drawn features that soften only when
his eyes turn toward the beautiful
child near him.
The child-his little Carmelita, his
only treasure. Left to him-left be-
fore the door of his adobe hut. with
no name, no dover, but her peerless
beauty, and with voice like a song
birds.
He is old and poorest among the
poor beggars of this village, but for ten
years have half his crusts, half his
beggings, been Carmelitas.
She sang; he listened and dreamed
and was content.
Carmelita must marry - yes
some handsome cabellerOs would bv
and by come along, see this gem Of
budding wOmanhood, and Carmelita
would be a happy wife-a mother
but nOw-now-his little one must
cheer his old days-he would not be
here lOng-nO--he would work for
her-he would --!"
The song dies away on the soft
evening breeze. The old man sleeps
peacefully with smile on his face.
The birds are quiet. The rivers faint
ripple is heard now and then. The
insects hum is almost still. The sill
yer moon watches over all.
The fierce sun pours down again.
The old man wakens and dragS his
weary limbs about to prepare the
breakfast of fruit and milk.
Then softly goes toward Carmelita's
bed.
Dear angel! she was tired. I'll
let her sleep. Little one, dream onu'
The bed has not been touched. Car
meljta is not there. She cannot be
fOund-nO one has seen her.
Only little red dress and mantiIla
thrown near the door, and-What is
that? That glittering object? An
American gold piece by her bed. Poor
Juan Castro is alone.
A long illness seizes him. For
months be is at deaths door, and rises
mere shadow of the man he was.
Still calling for Carmelita
Carmelita, my little child, let me
find thee !"
The way is long and rough to the
! great city. but old Castro starts on his
way, begging and working as best he
can.
For eight years we hear of him wan
| derlng about the gay and handsome
city, living God knows how.
A poor, bent cripple, haunting the
cafes and open gardens, looking vainlv
for dear, lost face. He listens to ali
the voices in the great churches. hon.
ing to hear that dear familiar tone.
Mother of Christ, help me to find
thee, my Carmelita :"
One night, after an unusually hot
day, poor Castro bowed by grief and
utter WEAKNESS, creeps past the CAV
piazza, where, coquetting and Ian
! gushing, are women clad in rich satins
their white shoulders draped with lace
mantillas; rich cabellerOs, in velvet
and lace, their fiery eyes sparkling
beneath their handsome sombreros
and crouches in the shadow of the
walls of one of the palatial houses in
the rich American quarter of the citv.
'Tis late-after midnight. A raw of
light from one of the windows fa lis
upon his drawn face, as he sleeps on
the cool, damp, stones.
"Hark Is he dreaming? Can it be /?
That voice Those rich tones Madre
de DiOs Look ~
Staggering to his feet, he gazes at
the open window.
A brilliantly lighted room, filed
with luxurious works of art. A table
groaning under the luscious wine and
fruit that crowd upon 1t, half dozen
men-their faces showing the wine
they have drunk-the jeunesse doree.
representing American capital in the
Spanish metropolis.
A piano in the cOrner-a woman.
once beautiful, now hollow-eved and
hardened; the rOuged cheeks, black
ened eyes and tinseled dress, telling
their own story.
She sings-holding her wine glass
highn-a seductive love song of old
Spain.
The men cheer and drink again.
Mother of Christ, why did | find
thee, Carmelita ?"
In the gray dawn, when the wine
sleepy jewellers reeled from the house.
they stumbled on an old man bv the
gate-dead His hands olasping his
beads his eyes fixed as though in