Pine Bluff daily graphic., 1906-03-02

scene was revolting and horrlple eo me vet the eyes of the grandees oi Castile sparkled with pleasure ana To them the torture was snort and as my mind drifted back into the m past l could picture Ill that Christian nation the descehddlit' of That race who invented the lhquisl- ion with it's exquisite tortures-
 Over all the golden glow of the afternoon sun shone as peacefuliE anu calmly as it does over our own 4ano Sot cloud sulied the blue of ,he o1aat dome overhead, toward "li'e" babel of cheers arose as some 'of- aador more daring than the oti'eia' escaned as hv miracle from the i'o" l17ood droncbed horns of the sweating h,,1, The spectators gre" f,,,nl, for slaughter and at tnelf cries +ho athletes in the arena redoupleo their efforts. The battle was SUD Timely grand, but it was oeousis b,+efu1-this wild beast struggle, thls heaving tumult of striving lives
 At the stage of the combat, Wheh the bull at times becomes sulky anu refuses to longer chase ms eiosise tornenters. the banderilleros appear and soon the gayly Der bboned aafts are pinned into the great hairy neck, while the beast shakes his mead Ill irpotent fury. He is stuag by tlle s1oarn points. and again the pursuit of his fees begins. They Wrlthe almost from beneath the great head afiu twist gracefully from the grim reaper Death. Weak from it's awful eXeflloA and less of bIoad. the bull stands trembling with passion as the master enters the arena. He is the mataaof and the idol of the popHlaee. Il lie dark eyes of the senofltas grow teh- der for a moment, and the sun over head laughs in it's warmth as he Jaunt- ilv throws his crimson mantle over his Jeff forearm and advances, carry ing a short sword in his right hand. The vast crowd r SC in their seats and press forward in breathless eX- pectation.
 The matador is he who puts the final touch to the scene, and this must be accomplished in an artistic man. ner. He does not hurry. he fences with the bull. and alert for every op- portunity, watches the tired yet nn- tanned an mai as he circles about the arena. His deeply sunburned face, his muscular. swarthy arms, bespeak the ideal athlete: his black eyes glint like tempered steel and never for a mo- ment do they leave those of his still dangerous antagonist. Suddenly the great brute wheels and with lowered head charges this new enemy who. with a spring that barely carries him beyond the wide spreading, blood smeared horns, plunges his sword in- to the vitals of the big beast as it staggers past. There is a flourish of the crimson cloak, the bull drops to matador doffs his hat and bows his acknowledgements to the half frantic spectators. They cheer him to the echo and often shower valuable gifts upon him.
 The music, which has been stilled during the intense moments, aga'n sobs out that weired, uncanny, seduc tive music, the gayly caparisoned mule teams drag away the dead heros carcass, the trampled arena i: raked smooth and another bull is turned into the arena to battle against those awful odds, while the scorching sun still smiles grimly overhead and a cloud of fleecy white drifts majes- tically across the sapphire sky.
 To me the memory of that awful Sunday afternoon remains one of tre- mendous horror, and, being woman must confess I was on the verge of tears all the time Never do I care to behold another bull fight, yet you should have seen the beautiful dove- eyed young senoritas who emerged laughing and smiling from the scene ot butchery and torture, and firtea