Shoshone journal. [volume] (Shoshone, Idaho) 1884-1931, 1908-12-18
An Old Don

! Caves of Bellemar are ruins of once
fine old country houses. They stand,
roofless and with vacant windows,
fronted by remnants of Greek and
Roman porticos. in the middle of
weedgrown gardens, like desecrated
} tombs in a deserted churchyard They
5 are the stones that mutely point the
way along which pitiless war has gone.
IN the early morning | had climbed
the white road which skirts the cres-
cent bay, and winds above the pink
and-white cottages on its edge to the
mesa. where are the caves. and. re-
turning, had turned into this quiet
street
FL Senior Don Carlos Valero. pot
in hand, was carefully watering a row
of feeble plants in box at the end of
his porch. I doubt if Uncle Toby
ever put the last touches to a redoubt
with more loving fingers than those
which picked off a dead leaf here or
Strengthened a bent stem there. There
was so much friendliness in his. quick
glance that | yentured to salute him
in Indifferent Spanish. to which he re-
piled in plain enough English. | must
/ stop-l must rest bit must have
/ drink of water he said and taken by
his kindly old face and manner, was
! glad to accept. | noted him closely
/ as he returned with a tray bearing a
clay jug and glass. and felt sure he
must be part and parcel of the old
street.
He carried his sixty-odd years with a
slight stoop in the slender frame. His
linen clothes We're patched, and worn
from many cleanings. The soft hat he /
held in his hand had once been brown, /
but had turned to the red Of new ma
hogany. When | took a closer look at [
his face, smooth-shaven except for a
white mustache, brown as an old sad
die beneath the close-cropped white
hair. | saw that the clothes did not
proclaim the nlan-for there was not a
line nor a furrow that had been traced
by any but the gentler feelings, except
those marks left by adversely.
He was indeed an old resident of the
"Avenida." This house. which was his
country place in an earlier time, had
been one of the first built. AS we sat
over coffee. later. in the big, airy din
ing room, looking out into the sunny
patio with its stone well and arched ,
doorways, he spoke frankly and with
out bitterness of the turns his for
tunes had taken. {
His fathers father he said. had been
an admiral in the Spanish navy-he !
pointed to portrait ON the wall of
fine looking old warrior in full uniform
his grandfather, on his mothers j
side, colonel in the French army He
had once owned two plantations, he j
went on. but in the first war they
had been swept away with everything .
they contained. except the things he
had carried off in his pockets and
hands. Nothing was left but this
empty old house. Here he had
brought his family, and from the roof
had watched the smoke rolling up
from the buildings he had been forced
to abandon.
His wife was an American woman.
plainly Of good breeding. and late in
life the two had been made happy by
a little daughter. bright little thing
about four years old, who led her old
father a merry dance at her pleasure.
If she had demanded to be taken to
he moon. or some equally impossible
place. | believe that. from force of
habit, absently he would have taken
lis stout stick from the corner and
ooked about for his hat
in his odd. mixed accent. dropping
french and Spanish intersections every
low and then. he spoke of his favorite
looks. and it was plain he had not
AIRED to wander very far outside the
lelds of the older classics. He quoted
byron and Dante at length; men
toned Sue and Hugo with profound
aspect; but laughed till the tears
oiled down his cheeks at bits he re-
allied from Gil Bias and at the
assages he read aloud in archaic
Danish from Don Quixote"
I wish could set down in his own
-ords, with the feeling which swayed
i'm. his simple account of the at
empt to bride the keeper of the be-
aged Maximiliian when the latter
as held in Mexican prison under
entence of death 1t would 90 far
ward showing his creed of life. As
lie old don concluded his tale which
2 had told with unconscious dra-
attic effect. of how the poor soldier
i'd sent back the signed check which
Id been put in his hand to fill in
~ amount he cared to inscribe-
'lding his honor above money-he
used a moment rehectiyely and
ded with an absent stare in his
lid eyes:
Il don't know what it ees dat keeps
man from doing an injury TO bees
ighbor: dat keeps him from break
g bees sacred word; or dat keeps
m from being bought weeth money.
t it ees something he raised his
ad slowly, and turned it, with up
Id chin, from side to side as though
rveying the wOrld-'it is something
here and his raised arm fell