Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1916-07-06

and had fallen into its present ruin
1t was well, she said. for if she had
been rich suitors would have searched
her out long since. She was eighteen.
She had been a woman for years.
These things, some of them distinct
some only half-formed impressions. ran
in Gerrys head as he wandered over
the fazenda. It had once been rich,
why was it not rich now? Fertility
sprang to his view on every side save
one. This was the gentle slope away
from the river and behind the house
Even here he discovered hummocks in
alignment, vague traces Of the careful
filling Of another time He climbed
the slope till he came to a depression
running parallel to the river. 1t made
a line and beyond that line was desert
untamed. Cactus and thorn dotted its
barren soil. Gerry followed the de
preston down to its end then turned
back and followed it up. It wandered
among rocks and hiIIocks to a natural
cleft in the banks Of the great river.
He climbed a point of rock and
gazed around him. Far down to the
left cleaned the old plantation house
in the midst of its waste lands. His
eye followed the long depression and
he began to understand many things.
The ruin was a young ruin like him
self. In itself it contained the seeds
of rejuvenescence. It had been robbed
of its talisman and its taliSman was
water. Tons of water flowed past it
and left it thirsting for drops Irriga-
ton is cOeval with the birth of civiliza-
ton. 1t had been here in this Cepres~
sion, lived, and passed away before he
anu the girl were born. He tried to
explain to her what Cnce had been. but
she shrugged her shoulders She was
not Interested; she did not understand.
Together they walked back to the
house. Gerry was silent and thought
full. He saw a Vision of what Fazenda
Flores had once been, what work could
make it again.
The following day he rooted out two
rusty spades from the debris in the old
took the old darby, Bonifacio by name,
off with him to the depression. They
began the long task Of digging out the
silt Of years. Day after day, week
after week, they chung to the mono
tonOus work. The darky worked like
an autOmaton. Work in itself to him
was nothing beyond the path to food
and rest at night. Labor made no de-
mands on cOurage-it had no end, no
goal. But Gerry's labor was dignified
by conscious effort. His eyes We're not
in the ditch but on the vision he had
seen Of what Fazenda Flores might
be- He had fixed his Grant soul on a
goal. Tie essence of slavery is older
than any bonds wrought by man. The
white man and the black in the ditch
were its parable. The dignity ant the
shame Of labor were side by side, para
dOxically yoked tc the same task.
Margarita and her aunt looked on
and smiled and joy began to settle on
the girl. During Gerry's first restless
week she had steeled herself each
night to the thought that she would
wake to find him gone. But now he
was taking root. 1t amused him to
dig. Well, let him dig. There was no
end to digging
Gerry occasionally varied the work
Of digging with making some knick-
knack for the house. The twisted
limbs of trees became benches to sup
plant the rickety chairs, clumsily
patched and totally Inadequate to his
weight. In the same way he made the
massive frame of a bed and Bonifacio