Rocky Ford enterprise. (Rocky Ford, Colo.) 1887-1950, 1913-07-25

La Paloma, but he can play The Heart
Bowed Down and the Toreador song
from Carmen. want him to learn
the Miserere from Trovatore. It's nice
to sit on the porch after dinner and
listen while you smoke"
Sort of Court Minstrel" said his
father, humping down his napkin
with his hand spread fat on 1t. Don
Eugenio Cannon. with his minstrel
playing to him in the cleaning: It's
very picturesque. Did you ever think
of having n Court Fool too, or perhaps
you don't feel as II you needed one?"
He arose from his chair before Gene,
who never quite understood the
somewhat ferocious humor Of his par
ent, had time to reply.
well, SO long" said the old man:
be good children and don't get into
mischief, and Rose. see that your
brother doesn't get lost or SO carried
away by the Poet and the Peasant
that he forgets the dinner hour. Adios.
grille"
A half.hour later he walked down
the flight of marble steps that led in
dignified sweep from the front door to
the street. 1t was a wonderful day
and for a moment he paused. looking
with observing eyes at the prospect
of hill and bay which seemed to gilt
ter in the extreme clearness Of the at
mosphere. Like all Californians he
had strong. natural appreciation OF
scenic and climatic beauty. Preoccu-
pied with thoughts and schemes which
were anything but uplifting. he yet
was sensitiyely responsive to the
splendors of the view before him. to
the unclouded, pure blue OF the vault
above. to the balmy softness of the air
against his face. Some one had once
asked him why he did not live in
Paris as the ideal home OF the man OF
great wealth and small scruples. His
answer had been that he preferred
San Francisco because there were
more fine days in the year there than
anywhere else he knew of.
Now he paused. smiling the air with
distended nostril and inhaling It in
deep. grateful Inspirations. His eye
moved slowly over the noble prospect.
noted the deep sapphire tint of the
bay, the horizon, violet dark against
a pale sky, and the gem-like blues and
amethysts of the distant hills. He
turned his glance in the other direc-
ton and looked down the gray ex-
panse of the street, the wide, clear,
stately street, with its air of clean
spaciousness. sun-bathed. silent, al
most empty, in the calm quietude OF
the Sabbath afternoon. The bustling
thoroughfares of greater cities. with
their dark. sordid crowds. their un-
lovely, vulgar hurry. their distractinE
noise, were offensive to him. Tho
wonder crossed his mind. as 1t had
done before. how men who could es-
cape from such surroundings chose to
remain In them.
He walked forward slowly, thick
set, powerful figure. his frock-coat
buttoned tight about the barrel-like
roundness of his torso. a soft, black
felt hat pulled well down on his head
His feet were broad and blunt like his
hands, and in their square-toed shoes
he planted them firmly on the pave
ment with a tread OF solid, deliberate
authority. His forward progress had
something In 1t of an invincible resist
less march. He was thinking deeply
as he walked, arranging and planning,
and there was nothing in his figure, or
movements, or the expression of his
face, which suggested the sauntering
aimlessness of an afternoon stroll.
CTo BE CoNTINUED)