Santa Fe daily New Mexican. [volume] (Santa Fe, N.M.) 1885-1897, 1895-07-26
SOFT BLACK EYES.

compared 10 Cno large IuJuro ne mas map
ped out for himself, may make or mar 1t
learned all this and more one sultry May
day in Mexico five years ago.
had been sent to Mexico as chief of q
surveying corps to establish the boundaries
Of the Santa Anita grant, which lay along
the Rio Claro just outside the city of Chi
huahua. 1t was responsible position for
young man, and held my head high.
1t was the day Of La Fiesta dc San Qua
dalupe. The saint himself had been dead,
understood, several hundred years, but
in Mexico that doesn't make any differ
enoe. The longer folks are dead there the
more they seem to be thought of and the
bigger birthday party they have. Almost
every other week contains the 'feast day"
of some dead saint or saintess, and trade
and commerce are suspended to do the &C.
casion justice. The natives of Mexico are
Why, have known them-men In my own
employ-to be so enthused over the pos
thumous birthday Of some long dead saint
that they would get up in tho gray dawn
to go about celebrating it. This morning,
the morning Of Guadalupe's feast day, the
whole force Of poems under me had struck.
No ohainmen, no flagmen, no axmen were
left me. Only Sims and Bailey, my two
American assistants, staid behind. When
I began abusing them for the customs Of
Mexico, they said while they did not care
even remotely for the saint to whom 1t
was dedicated still they were glad it was
holiday and they thought they would go
up stream and fish awhile. They were
only Indifferent laymen, without any re-
ligious feeling.
When was left alone in camp, I spent
short time on my field notes. when it
came over me that was wasting the day.
Just outside the chaparral the river was
laughing and murmuring In the open. 1t
seemed to ask me to walk beside 1t. The
adobe huts along Its banks were tenant
less; their inmates had gone to the feast.
But, strange sight, there at the bend Of
the river where the waters were the mer-
REST was solitary worker, and whatever
1t was she was doing, she was doing 1t
with vim. A dark eyed, dark haired,
dark shawled daughter of Spain she
seemed to be-, and yet she was working
and working hard-on "feast day!' A
fit Of curiosity seized me to know what she
was doing and why she was doing it. I
approached her with the question on my
lips at what did she work, and por-kay Il
spell it as said it). Softly she raised a
pair Of melting orbs and sweetly and elo-
quently she answered me. From her reply,
in the most musical language in tho world,
gathered that she would be at the FEAST
but that she must cleanse the soiled linen
that lay around her on the sand, for the
owner of 1t, a gentleman who was staying
at the United States hotel, wanted 1t by
noon, and tomorrow would not do (she
said this plaintively) If 1t were not done
by noon, she finished most pathetically,
she would get no diners, and that she
needed in the superlative degree. Dinero!
All, the next most potent thing in Mexico
to saints days is money!
AS her red lips told me this her great
black eyes wandered from the soiled
clothes ct her feet to the spires of the Ca
thedral in the distance and the waving
foliage Of the plaza where the fcasting and
merrymaking were going on. There was
look of sadness and longing in them as
she gazed. Being tender hearted man, I
asked her If there was aught could do for
her. In wonderful mixture of Anglo
Spanish, which invented while in Mex
leo, and which no one could ever master
but myself, assured her was at her serv
ioe If she so desired and asked how could
assist her.
The black eyes flashed gratitude ere the
scarlet mouth said, in silvery sweet tones,
"Would you sit on rock beside me and rub
the shirts of the gentleman on q large rock
with worry small rockY'
Looking back now in the LIGHT Of ma
turer wisdom, can see that should have
declined that Job on the grounds that it
was too unasthetic. Butt didn't. On
the contrary, I accepted 1t effusiyely,
There was a touch Of romance about it
that appealed to me-the tlay itself began
to appeal to me for the first time I began
to feel something Of the enthusiasm for
feast days that had taken nv men out be-
fore daybreak. would not be SO hard on
them again, thought. Truly 1t was a
very pretty custom, and began to sympa
thize with 1t and to understand II better.
II San Guadalupe had not been 40 long in
TERED, in the gladness of nv heart I would
have sent him a bouquet. All this tried
to conHde to Lucia. It touched her. If
sounded, she said, like stories she had read
In the convent.
Her name was q poem in itself-Lucia
Eulalia Gracia y Valdez. And miner After
that poem it seemed common to say that
was plain Jack Biggs. But she anticipat-
ed me- She pointed to one of my business
cards that had escaped my vest pocket
when threw 1t on the sand. "Meester
Beegs, que NOT" she lisped, and it did not