The Marion daily mirror. (Marion, Ohio) 1892-1912, 1908-06-09

She did the one thing that she knew
how to do. She sewed She was young.
She worked we'll. There were no big
garment factories then. There were no
unions. Those who could do fine hand
work were literally paid.
And Antonio. who was not Of the
choren race Of Mexican? The same old
story. With hard work Josefa's brown
eyee grew dull. The red faded from
her cheeks. Another woman came.
younger and prettIer than she. Whom
Antonio went back to Mexico, II was
another woman's money that took him.
Josefa stayed here. With the going Of
Antonio went the last reason for liv-
ing. Donna Josefa gave up the fight.
Gradually the old customers dropped
off. The handful of Spansh-speaking
people scattered. The city grew rar-
idly. Big factories sprang up every
where Unions we're born. Step by
step Donna Josefa, still young in years,
was forced aside. For a while she took
work home from the factories, but at
forty she was broken and old and slow.
Then the factories stopped giving II,
and Donna Josefa was thing of the
past. Unable to speak English, she
stayed close to her own people, and
went down, down to where she is now.
Those that she helped when she had
money are all gone, or they are as poor
now as they were then. Help from 9th
ers? Donna Josefa says this Is an un-
grateful country. Back in her beloved
Guadalajara all men are brothers.
Those that have give to those that
have not. The woman who cannot do
ler own work has 1t done for her by
her neighbOrs. But here 1t is all money
money. and the Mexicans are as bad as
the Americans Donna Josefa makes a
sweeping gesture over the filthy room
"ln Guadalaja," she says, "it would not
he SO. Some one would do It for me.
Hero | cannot pay. so no one does 1t.
am old and sick, and | have never
done that kind of work" / wonder
which is the real reason?
when had it," she continues, 81
gave to all who asked. No one came
in vain. Five hundred dollars | gavo
toward the building Of the church Of
Guadaloupe, and four of my gold rings
with stones, senorita, with stones. are
buried under the foundation. Now l
have nothing. only God and the saints"
Then Donna Josefa will lead the way
back to another room, and If you know
just how TO manage, you can have thu
brass bound chest in the corner opened.
| 1t is full to the lid with remnants Of
| the past But chief treasure of all, a
black crepe scarf, with heavy border
of rosebuds. Donna Josefa unrolls 1t
carefully and holds II up. From the
| days when he loved me-" she says, SIM
ply No persuasion can make her put
it on. Never again. Never, never .
she repeats. Like the old rhyme-he
loves me, he loves me not, Donna Jo-
sefa's whole life is divided into two
parts-when he loved me-and now.
Yes" she admits, 81 love him yet"
| Not all the pain of thirty years has
changed her. "He was my heart, my
| life, my SOUL" she cries, while tears
! trickle over the dry, yellow skin. did
not the good God give him to me for
| a husband, and would you have me ecr'
get him? But how | have suffered
For thirty years | have cried night and
day. Now my tears are dry. l have
cried my eyes away"
Did he ever really love you, Donna
Josefa?"
."At first, yes; at first he really loved
me. But that other-she was younger
and prettier than l." Against her
Donna Josefa has no anger. Antonio
loved her. 1t was not in the nature OF
things for her to remain cold. Besides.
with the sorrows of thirty years, Donna
Josefa has built philosophy. 1t is
this, "All men are bad--all, all. Wom-
an Is ever the victim. Don't marry,
! senorita," she warns clenching her
thin, twisted hands, while for once her
tear-tired eyes flash with righteous in
dignation. Not If he is king of France,
of Spain, of the world!" But the noxt
momeLt she takes a picture ou: of It's
,;rty yt!vet case, and asks with n lock-
and vcic, of little child: But is he
rot han, some, my Antonio?"
A,I 81, che lpuoc him Vaf