Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1917-10-27
CHAPTER /
The VdLIeu of DeIi0ht
copyrIsht. lOi7. Harper 4 BIOS

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ny ALL probability your first view of
4 the valley Of the Yumuri will be from
the Hermitage Of Montserrate, for 1t is
there that the cocheros drive you Up the
winding road they take you, with the bay
at your back and the gorge at your right,
10 the crest of narrow ridge where the
chapel stands. Once there, you overlook
the fairest sight in all Christendom--"the
loveliest valley in the world" as Humboldt
called it--for the Yumuri nestles right at
your feet, a vale of pure delight,
glimpse of Paradise that bewilders the eye
and fills the soul with ecstasy.
II Is larger than 1t seems at first sight;
through it meanders the river, coiling
and uncoiling, hidden here and there by
Jungle growths, and seeking final outlet
through a cleft in the wall not unlike
crack in the side of painted bowl. The
place seems to have been fashioned as
dwelling for dryads and hamadryads, for
mikes and pixies and all the tabled spirits
of forest and stream. Fairy hands tinted
its steep slopes and carpeted its level
floor with the richest of green brocades.
Nowhere is there a clash of color; no
where does a naked hillside or monstrous
tut of rock obtrude to mar its placid
beauty; nowhere can you see crude dis
figuring mark of mans handiwork--there
are. only fields and bowers, with an occa.
sional matched roof faded gray by the
sun.
Royal palms, most perfect of trees, are
ncattered everywhere. They stand alone
or in stately groves, their lush fronds
dropping like gigantic ostrich plumes,
their slim trunks as smooth and regular
and white as if turned in a giant lathe
and then rubbed with pipe-clay. In all
Cuba, island of bewitching vistas, there
IS no other Yumuri, and in all the wide
world, perhaps, there is no valley of
moods and aspects so varying. You should
see it at evening, all warm and slum-
berous, all gold and green and purple;
or at early dawn, when the mists are
fading like pale memories of dreams and
the tints are delicate; or, again, during a
tempest, when 1t is a caldron of whirling
vapors and when the palm trees bend like
coryphees, tossing their arms to the gal
looping hurricane. But whatever the time
of day or the season of the year at which
you visit it, the Yumuri will render you
wordless with delight, and you will VOW
that it is the happiest valley mems eyes
have ever looked upon.
The Quinta of Esteban VarOna
Standing there beside the shrine of Our
Lady of Montserrate, you will see beyond
the cleft through which the river emere es
another hill, La Cumbre, from which the
view is almost as wonderful, and your
driver may tell you about the splendid
homes that used to grace its slopes in the
golden days when Cuba had an aristoc
racy. They were classic Roman villas
such as once lined the Via Appia-little
palaces, with mosaics and marbles and
precious woods imported from Europe
and furnished with the rarest treasures
for in those days the Cuban planters
were rich and spent their money Law
ishly. Melancholy reminders of this splen
dor exist even now in the shape Of a
crumbled ruin here and there, lichened
pillar, an occasional porcelain urn in its
place atop a vine-grown bit of wall,
Your cochero may point out certain
grove of orange trees, now little more
than rank tangle, and tell you about the
Quinta of Don Esteban Varona and its
hidden treasure; about little Esteban and
Rosa, the twins and about Sebastian, the
giant slave, who died in fury, taking with
him the secret of the well.
The Spanish Main is rich in tales of
treasure trove, for when the Antilles
were most affluent they were least secure,
and men were put to strange shifts to
protect their fortunes. Certain boards
like jewels of tragic history, in time as
sumed a sort of evil personality, not in
frequently exercising a dire influence over
the lives OF those who chanced to fall
under their spells. 1t was as If the
money were accursed, for certainly the
seekers often came to evil. OF such a
character was the Varona treasure. Don
Esteban himself was neither better nor
worse than other men of his time, and
although part Of the money he hid was
wrung from the toll of slaves and the
traffic in their bodies, much Of it was
clean enough and in time the earth puri
fied It ALL Since his acts made so deep an
impress and since the treasure he left
played so big a part in the desrnies OF
those who came after him, it is we'll that
some account Of these matters should be
given.
The story, please remember, is an ole
one; il has been often told and in the
telling and retelling it is but natura
that a certain glamour, a certain tropica
extravagance should attach TO It; there
fore you should make allowance fol
some exaggeration, some accretions du'
20 the lapse of time. In the main, how
ever. It is well authenticated and runi
parallel TO fact.
Don Varona's Family
Don Rosa varona lived barely lonl
enough 10 learn that she had given brit
) twins. Don Esteban, whom people
knew as grim man, took the blow OF hi
.udden bereavement as became one Of hi
trong hber. Leaving the priest upon hi
nees and the doctor busted with tn
abies, he strode through the house an'
ut into the sunset, followed by the vail