The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1910-08-19

the mountains to the Valley of Toluca,
where nestles the city that is the cap
ital of the State of Mexico. But on
this fair day no notwithstanding de-
vices of people came to strike the
discordant note. We met only the de-
scendants of many generations Of
those who had walked that way. Men,
barefooted or shod in that peculiar
sandal called guarache. wearing grace
fully their gay serapes or red blan-
kets, and the picturesque broad
brimmed, high-peaked sombreros.
walked beside their burros that were
packed with towering loads of coarse
pottery or baskets.
We illustrated the old fable of the
hare and the snail, we and bright.
looking peon of the best type, whose
burro kept steadily on in It's light.
footed little trot while we varied our
progress between galloping and walk.
ing. In one of the passings, after the
courteous salutation, we entered into
conversation about the road to Ell Des.
ierto; and remarking that the way
was long, he proceeded to describe q
much nearer way by trail, cutoff
that left the main road some miles be-
fore the Ell Desierto road did.
The wooded mountains across the
deep ravine appealed to US, and when
we came to the trail it also looked
tempting, so we took our wayfarer's
advice and left the beaten track, soon
to find ourselves scrambling down a
precipitous way leading our horses.
After crossing a stream at the bottom
of the canon, we mounted and fol.
lowed the bank, entering pine forest
through which We rode mile after
mile.
Never was road like this one!
Through wilderness apparently
primeval, but for 1t it seemed to lie
dreaming in a potent forest silencs
that trembled on the edge of sound,
as the pale light that sifted through
the trees upon it trembled between
shade and sunshine. A strange spell
broods here that woos one to linger
and see visions of that olden time.
At last we were on the top of the
mountain and riding beside the high
convent wall, the entrance being on
Ine opposite side from our approach.
Within the patio, like the deserted
guardian of the deserted place, stands
on a high pedestal a marred stone
statue of some unacceptable saint,
mutely eloquent. We pass it, and
walk the lonely corridors, stand under
the lofty dome, climb the worn stairs
to the belfry, descend into under.
ground chambers, and loiter in clois
tiers and in the walled gardens and
orchards of old that Father Gage tells
us of; where the fragrant flowers
bloomed and the luscious fruit ripened
on lust such air and sunshine as
battles the mountain top today. But
the spirit of the hive" where is it?
In front of the great arched en-.
trance is an open space with few
maple trees, and small detached
ruin of brown adobe. Steps lead down
from one of these old rooms, and
though the space is filed with debris
It appears to be an underground pas.
sage to the convent. Standing there,
one looks into forest such as ourer
painted; vistas between the bodies OF
giant trees, dim beguiling. satyr
haunted depths.
The shadows were deepening there,
for the day was perceptibly waning;
and we of short span Of days must
hasten to leave a ruin that was old
before we had being. and that will
long outlast us.
ELEANOR EVANS.