Gloucester County Democrat. (Woodbury, N.J.) 1878-1932, 1898-10-13
A SPANISH LEGEND.

In heart of the capital of Mexico lies
short block known as the Gale de
Don Juan Manuel In this street, but
moments walk from the Plaza Mayor,
stands one of the Oldest houses built by
the Spanish dons.
1t is of stone, three stories high, or
| namented with balconies along the two
upper stories, and with the close set
stone pinnacles on the roof that signify
the abode of Spanish nobility, At right
angles with the row of pinnacles and
pointing menacingly toward the street
is battery of sham calsnon carved out
of stone that in reality are great drain
pipes. They project into the air SO far
that they empty the tropical rains be-
yond the limits of the sidewalks into
the cobble paved street. These are for
utility, of course, but they chance to be
the most decorative feature of this
quaint facade.
Inside this noble structure the arches
of the patio, now, alas, divided by dis
figuring walls, span so feet of stone
paved floor and spring 80 feet upward
into the great quad1angular space. Mas
sive stone stairways, with broad and
shallow step, slope gently upward to the
magnificent living apartments of Don
Juan Manuel. Gayly painted carpets
may still be seen on the deep set "rise"
of every step, and tracings linger on the
edges of the depressions worn by the
countless footballs of Don Juan Manuel,
his noble visitors, his vast retinue of
servants and his descendants.
Once on the upper landings of the
stairway, which was evidently devised
as means to an end, not as feature
of architectural development, one looks
back on region of stony gloom which
now, as it has always been, is used for
servants quarters and storerooms. Even
on the upper floor the windows are iron
barred but they are numerous and large
and the apartments are spacious and
we'll proportioned. The drawing room,
40 feet square, is reached through an
antesata, that is study in itself, for
on it's high walls is spread in black and
white the story of Paul and Virginia.
Rugged rocks and tossing seas, sylvan
and outrageous woods, depict the
scenes of this lovers tragedy, while the
hero and heroine wander arm in arm,
often pausing for fond embrace,
through devious paths to their sad
doom.
In the midst of this splendor and the
rich furnishings brought over seas in
Spanish galleons, lived the priceless or
nament of the house of Don Juan Man
uel, his young and beautiful wife. Each
day he said to himself, "She is more
beautiful, more charming. more true,
and am unspeakably blessed in her
love-" But one day the thought came
to him that he was growing old. For
long time the devotion of his lovely wife
had deceived him into the belief that
years did not matter. But at last he
was forced to realize that the care of
his great estates needed younger head.
He would send to Spain for his nephew
and thus give himself more time for do
mestic felicity. Happy thought The
nephew came, met his youthful and
beautiful aunt, devoted himself to col
lecting his uncle's tithes, and staid.
If the world lacks proverb, it is one
applicable to the blindness of the old
and doting husband and the adroitness
of his young and beautiful wife. But
in time even Don Juan Manuel became
suspicious, and from suspicion to jeal-
ousy the step is but short one. Spend
ing his evenings by the side of his wife,
Don Juan Manuel suddenly began to
absent himself night after night. At
first the young wife wondered and was
alarmed at she knew not what, but
soon she begged her husband to remain
with her, because it was reported that
every night murder was committed in
the Gale de Don Juan Manuel Every
night the watchman would see tall
figure, wrapped in the long, black,
Spanish cloak, pacing back and forth
the limit of the short street. Whose
this black figure was no watchman
could tell-or would. When it appear
ed, the street became suddenly deserted,
and slowly and solemnly the tall man,
with bent head marched up and down
to the lonesome echo of his tread.
Sometimes for hours no other form was
visible throughout the length of the
calle, but younger and keener eyes
might have seen, stealing out on the
upper balcony of the house of Don Juan
Manuel, the young wife whom he had
locked i'll her chamber Beneath the
shadow of the great stone water pipes
she would crouch and wait and watch
AT last, stranger or an overbold
citizen of the street, not believing the
stories of nightly murder, would turn
his steps into that lone place. Directly
he would be met or overtaken by the
slow pacing fiG~re in the long black
cloak. Stranger, it would say, "canst
thou tell me the hour of the night?
The stranger, unsuspecting danger or
timid in the commanding presence,
would open his cloak and take out his
repeater, when-deathl Straight to his
heart pierced the double edged dagger
carried by the tall, black figure that
paced the Gale de Don Juan Manuel
Fortunate is the man who knows the
hour of his death, /" the figure said, and
as quickly as it had gone home to the
life fount as quickly was the dagger
withdrawn, wiped upon the cloak of
The fallen man, sheathed in its morocco
Ease and replaced in the folds of it's
'wner's cloak. Suddenly the pacing fig
Ire would disappear, muttering to him.
elf, "IIe is not the man, or Another
fine.
In the morning the dead would be