Willmar tribune. [volume] (Willmar, Minn.) 1895-1931, 1911-03-15

rays OF the sun that was shining from a cloud.
less sky. This sand was soft and yielding under
foot, and made walking hard and uresome. But
on up the beach we went, and came to the old
sea wall that had been built there centuries ago
to keep back the waves when winds were at war
with the waters. Soon the frowning walls Of
what once served a Spanish prison came to
view, and climbing high up over the rocky en-
bankment we entered the old dungeon, and as
stood therein we thought Of the broken
hearts and signs and cries Of agony that had, in
the far distant past, assembled to heaven from
within this cruel enclosure-how that hope had
gone out Of the human heart, and death had
come sweet relief to the prisoner here in THU
dark and dismal place-and how THAI the gay
world had gone outside forgetful that he had
ever lived and suffered and passed away
Leaving this prison Of the old time, we went
further on up the beach and came to tho ruined
old castle, starding there on the sea9nore like
some great, silent sentry, pointing backward and
whispering to of the days that are buried in
the depths Of the long ago. Here the governor Of
all the territory had resided-a Spanish noble
man in whose veins flowed the proudest blood of
old CASTLE. In this very place he was surrounded
by his numerous courtiers and bands of soldiers
with changing arms and trumpet calls; and proud
lords and lovely ladies met here in nights gone
by, and to the strains of sweetest music danced
the hours away. But now, all is as quiet and
noiseless as the stiffness Of death-only the soft
breezes that pass gently through the foliage of
the royal palms and the evergreen trees, and the
faint mu1mur of the distant waves Of the sea dis
turb the deep and solemn silence.
The great stones that form the castle walls,
towering many feet high, with their barren win
dows and frowning portfolios commanding view
Of the blue and restless waters far as the eye
can see, are the only tokens that man once
sided here-for the ruler and his courtiers and
his bands Of soldiers-proud lords and lovely
ladies of that far-of time, have ALL all gone, and
not one left to tell Of their greatness and grand
eur-their very names being blotted from the
memory of man.
Only short distance from the ruins Of this
silent old castle stands the wreck Of the once
beautiful cathedral, rooess and barren. Its walls
are of gray sandstone firmly cemented together.
In this ancient cathedral, that was built nearly
400 years ago by hands that have long since been
idle may yet be the baptismal font where
In ages past, innocence christened into re-
ligious life.
The chancel, where once stood the priest and
ministered spiritual comfort to his flock, may yet
be seen. All its former gaudy trappings, and the
beautiful mural paintings have disappeared, and
in the alcove above, where was once the statue
of the Crucif1ed One, only the barren stones Of
the temple look down upon you in mute blank
ness and eternal silence. Everything in and
about this wrecked old cathedral speaks of de-
parted splendor.
Yet it is SINH held in reverence, for to this
good day the simple, childlike natives of this land
Of eternal summer bring their dead here, and
within the enclosure Of these old walls they com.