The record-union., 1897-10-31
THE CIGARETTE.

M spanish IOulaucS ny JuI6S NidICttCI
Yes, Monsieur it was in the time Of
the war of the last Don Carlos. All this
Basque country, these enyirons OF
Saint Sebastian, these mountains OF
Guipuzcoa here smened Of blood and
powder for months-for long, long
months. You ought to have seen the
black and cracked walls in the coun-
try. They were once farms and houses,
happy living corners, but now they are
ruins, almost cemeteries. That is war!
How they Fought The Car;ists on
one side, the soldier of the Government
Of Madrid on the other. They left a
train of wounded and dying along the
road-poor fellows, who knew they were
passing away and who were asking
themselves why, why? Civil wars;
Civil wars are pretty thingsi And when
one thinks of it they may begin again
Tomorrow, for does any one know?
Men are so foolishl
You see, one beautiful morning we
were told the King was here-that Don
Carlos had arrived. Then it was simple.
The old yeast was stirred up and we
Basque peasants ran to the pretender
and furnished him an army. We put on
q handsome uniform, our cap on the ear,
and arrived Ia the village with the
humpeter at our head, where we form
ed for dancing with the village girls.
who kept time to our singing. Later
cur Basques are brave and die well.
Only, adieu the harvests. the apple
trees, and the life Of the poor world. We
fought all day, and we fought for three
years AT a given time all the roads
were broken up and occupied by men of
the same country, who had no thought
but to cut each others throats.
You know the history of the blockade
of Bilbao - that the Carlists pressed
like squeezers. It was necessary to sue
cor the city, and between Saint Sebas-
tian and Bilbao the soldiers of Don Car
los held the defiles, repulsed the as
saults, and beat back with the bayonet
the columns of troops that were
launched against them. The chief Car
list who commanded this side was Zu-
carraga, a hero, Monsieur He was an
officer of the army who had sent his
sword to the Government at Madrid,
saying: "Give it to another that It may
combat me. That which I wear hence
forth I will hold from my King"
He was 80 years of age, handsome,
tall, superb. He held the mountain
there, and never slackened mis- grip.
They sent their best troops against
him, and each day fresh troops. We
saw the poor fellows returning limping,
decimated, their officers carried on
bloody nuIe-litters, shaking their heads
and saying: cit is for Spain that one
kills Spain''
This ZucarTaga'S reputation increased
at each misfortune Of the national army.
People said: This is Thomas Zumal-
acarregui come back to life" the pala-
din Of the Carlist war in the olden
time. Everything made Zucarraga
hero Of romance. He was a General as
popular as the Cid.
The General who commanded at Her
mani and sent out his poor soldiers
against the defiles defended by Zu-
carTaga was transported with rage. He
had promised himself to force a PAS
sage, to break through those people in
a hand-to-hand struggle in order to
pierce to Bilbao, but each attack was a
defeat, each assault a half rout. The
harassed troops returned with heavy
feet and lowered heads, leaving their
dead along the road.
One evening, upon the square of Ay-
untamiento, as the General watched his
soldiers slowly, quietly, dejectedly re-
turning to their quarters, while in the
distance could be heard the grumbling
of ZucarTaga's cannon, and their smoke
could be seen mounting at the foot Of
the valley, he clinched his hands
and said with flashing eye, ooh,
this Zucarraga, this ZucarTaga; this
miserable zucarraga! I would give my
skin for his and a fortune to the man
who would kill him!"
He was beside himself and weeping to
see his regiments melting like snow in
the defiles. 1t seemed to him that all
the brave men sowed by the wayside
were his children. And who was it? Zu-
carraga-the Basques of Zucarraga-
the Carlists.
The old GarTido had not finished
speaking, when before him, in this
square filed with troops, upon which
the setting sun was casting its parting
rays, appeared a large, handsome
youth, who looked him in the eye, and
said brusquely:
''Wil you give me what I ask if I
kill ZucaTTaga? ??
sfWho are you?" asked Garrido.
''I am Juan Araquil, a native of this
country-a man not afraid of dying but
who has sworn to be rich.''
The General examined the man from
head to foot.
you are from Guipuzcoa Why have
you not joined the army of Don Car
los?''
Because care for nothing in the
world except the woman love-
"a f1ancee?"
"Ah, if she were my fance! No. She
is the daughter of farmer too rich for
me, who am poor, and wish money to
marry her"
Araquil was well known in the cOun-
try. We all knew his history and his
love for the daughter of Father Chega-
ray, a good Guipuzco laborer, who own
ed four or five. farms and orchards.
whose trees cracked under apples that
made a cider you ought to have seen.
I have never tasted your French cider,
of which I have heard much, but it is
not SO god as our Guipzcoa cider 1t
is not who say it.
The Father Chegaray lived between
Hermann and the Fort SAINT Barbara.
which you have seen IN coming from
Saint Sebastian. Of his daughter Pepa,
old Chegaray was as proud as an Anda-
louise of her jewels. He was very watch
full when he took her to vespers of
village dance, and it was here one often
became engaged without consulting
the parents. In laughing, in dancing,
III is o1licIxIv dOne The heart Is struck