Santa Fe daily New Mexican. [volume] (Santa Fe, N.M.) 1885-1897, 1894-06-30

seems as if these who we're now still
mimicking the hunt of them were fast be-
coming extinct also. This custom, how
ever, will certainly not last long-may
soon be thing of the past.
| Was it such thoughts as thoss, grave and
portentous, that fitted througls = mind
of 6-year-old youngster last night as he
stood leaning reiectively against the
railing enclosing the statue, his hands
folded behind his head, his face encircled
by his jet, black hair, forehead covered
as nicely with bangs as any American
girls, attired in nothing more than a
bracelet of shells around his neck and a
pair of moccasins on his feet? All, MOI!
The Indian trusts to those above, COM
placently he sings his song as the day is
long and troubles himself not so much as
we as to the cares of this world.
Six times did these men delight in run
ming and stamping up and down the main
thoroughfares of the pueblo, now they
fall once more upon the poor bedanced
buffalos; after a while, dancing about
them, they leave. So over and over
again. The dance moves from one place
to another just as eight or ten braves
who beat their tom-toms and skin-drums
give the sign and initial step. After thus
having performed half hour or more
they ascend broad ladder at the ex-
tremity of the town. This leads into the
square estufa, where certainly it is warm
enough for the exhausted and perspiring
hunters. We leave the scene of action.
From now on until sunset there is no
change in the program.
Let US go with the throng of Spanish
speaking people over to the store belong
ing to my friend Eldodt, where pen or
pelt, soap or suit can be had. Although
it is Sunday neither he nor his efficient
assistant, Meyer, can get an inkling of
rest. 1t is one incessant wall of Com
MN -m-o-l-a-v-a-a-a Senior! "e-s-t-a--b-u-e-
NOT" This dulce-kind doth plague the
life out of an American! But oh, who is
to blame?
Whilst my good friend Sam is thus en-
gagged in his store, his genial brother
Marcus sits erect in the chair of the cosy
room of Samuel's nice residence and waits
for the guests to come. Knowing full
we'll his Importance on such occasions he
says with stentorian voice: "Get de wife
apron reddy, de one NIT de long stringgs."
Alas, for jovial Max-no one appeared.
But it was good so. The sun shines
beautifully on the portico outside, the
tamarisk trees blush in rosy hue, but the
beautiful blush of good-hearted Samuel's
sun is no more. Why should strangers
yet wish to cross the threshold of the
bereaved one on such day? The happy
emile that last year accosted them
greets them no more, no more will they
see this angel-face. There are other
kind friends there who have come from
afar to make, like genii, "things pure and
sweet to sight"-but still the wound is
not closed. Such as come near the
mourning house behold it's solemn as
pect and stroll off into the garden. Oh,
this garden is paradise of beauty. Doth
not the word paradise mean garden?
How sweet the damascene watts her per.
fume over to me. Evening draws to
close now. All, what sight! Thus life
ebbs away. May its close be like that of
this summer day here in this blessed
spot. Yonder hills in violet-go sill
yer setting point upward to the skles And
thou, disciple of love, dear sainted, John,
teach each to become like thee one of
Los Caballeros de claro amor--cavaliers
of true love-until in purer heavens we
shall be the apostles of even higher
love, which nevermore shall die!
MUNDIAMAToR.