The Jennings daily record., 1901-11-16
viva Mexico! Little horses moved by

ing the nigh taste of this exalted com.
munity, is disposed to offer it's services,
together with an instrumental concert
every day. Knowing that we are alb
jectly unworthy of the commendation of
tured, with humility, to bring forward our
poor abilities. Viva Mexico!''
Within that circular platform of
horses was smaller circle of canvas
wall, surrounding and hiding the CEN
trail pole and space three yards in
diameter around it. This was the GUS
tomary private chamber-forbidden
clty-of the owner of the caballitos.
To the ragged boys it was the retreat
of god. Thereto strobe Tomas, and,
casually, big iron tools were taken in
also and concealed.
At four O'Clock. out from her home,
steps Julia, arrayed in sky-blue, with
her hair waving nobly and her eyes
like mountain lakes. She takes her
seat in a chair on the movable plat
form, between two pairs of open
mouthed little horses. She carries
guitar in her hand. With that sweet,
calm, mild, reliable repose, which is
the exclusive property of the Mexican
woman of 4 certain class. she sells
little green tickets at three cents
apiece to the clamoring boys. True,
her calm permits some small scamps
to steal rides for nothing, but that
is neither here nor there.
''Tomas-ah, where is Tomas?" ask
many.
Taking his chocolate,'' replies she,
sweetly.
The whistle shrieks. the engine gives
a puff. and the horses do truly prance,
indeed. go all round, one pair snort
ing after the pair in front. and they
in turn snorting after those before
them. till finally even the first snort
ers are snorted after. and the battered
circuit is completed.
Julia up-takes her guitar in a fair
hand. and, remaining seated on -he
circular platform with that mild, re-
liable repose. goes round and round,
forever snorted after by incredible
rings of those animals. And as she
goes she touches her guitar with light
fingers. and casts up the mountain
lakes to the canvas of the tent and
sings. Her song is sweet and ringing.
clear and full of pathos. Her con-
stant change of place causes the
music to have that waverin@, sinking.
and rising uncertain quality so priced
by certain lovers Of the art. To be
one moment yorder. and the next
here. makes The voice of Julia like
that Of the night wind. which swells
and retircs with varying gusts and
fills the soul with sadness. The words
she sang were like these:
''Ah. that sweet. fair sonora,
She lived beside the spring.
There stands blue cross over her
And the breeze goes rnurrnurinr.
'-Ah, sweet sweet, fair Sonora "
he movement ceases; other 1lcke.s
are sold; other circuits are made, and
the sonora IS stu! mentioned as nav"
ing iiNed beside the spring. The shades
OF night come on and torches are liz
And Iomas-WhT. where is he:
asked many StiII.
Taking his chocolate" says Julir
sweetly.
Faith. he takes much and long"
Isl. senior: Tomas was always very
fond of chocolate"
Midnight at last arrives. The crowds
have gone away. Julia. something
of cagcrncSs affecting her repose, de-
scends with guitar in hand. and runs
with swift feet into her home. hair
flying. The torches are out. The
engine is settling down 3rumhlingly
to sIumher. The engineer has gone.
The stone-paved spac" is deserted.
She sits in her room. staring at the
door, waiting. The door bursts open;
she springs forward with a cry. TO
fail upon Tomas, who comes in with
burden. lie IS toil-worn. earth'
stained, with bllstered hands. He
locks the door and they sink down
ON The floor. beside his b,rden
~, "