The Carlisle independent., 1918-05-02
CHAPTER l.
The Valley of Delight.

ne Vdlley or Oelfgnr.
 In all probability your first view of the valley of the Yumuri will be from the Hermitage of Montserrate, for it is there that the cocheros drive you. There you overlook the fairest sight in all Christendom-"th loveliest valley in the world" as Humboldt called it- for the Yumuri nestles right at your feet, vale of pure delight, a glimpse of Paradise that bewilders the eye and fills the soul with ecstasy.
 Standing beside the shrine of Our Lady of Montserrate, you will see be- yond the cleft through which the river emerges another hill La Cumbre. from which the view is wonderful. and your driver may tell you about the splendid homes that used to grace it's slopes < tn the golden days when Cuba had an aristocracy Your cochero may point out certain grove of orange trees. now little more than a rank tangle. and tell you about the quinta of Don Esteban Varona, and its hidden treas ure about little Esteban and Rosa, the twins: and about Sebastian, the giant slave, who died in fury, taking with him the secret of the we'll
 The Spanish Main is rich in tales of treasure-trove. for when the Antilles were most affiuent they were least se- cure. and men were put to strange shifts to protect their fortunes. Ger t3a hoards. like jewels of tragic his tdfHA in time assumed sort of evil 'peHsbnality. not infrequently exercising dire influence over the lives of those who chanced to fall under their spells. It 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 purified 1t all. Since his acts made so deep an impress, and since the treasure he left played so big a part in the destinies of those who came after him. it is well that some account of these matters should be given.
 The story. please remember. is an old one; it has been often told, and in the telling and retelling it is but natural ! that a certain glamour. certain tropical extravagance, should attach to it, therefore you ehould make allow ance for some ex. sgeration. some ac- cretions due to the lapse of time. In the main. however. it is well authenti- cated and runs parallel to fact.
 Donna Rosa Varona lived barely long enough to learn that she had given birth to twins. Don Esteban, whom people knew as grim man. took the blow or his sudden bereavement as be- came one Of his strong fiber Leaving the priest upon his knees and the doc tor busted with the babies, he strode through the house and out into the sunset, followed by the walls of the slave women.
 Don Esteban was at heart a selfish man, and now. therefore, he felt a sul- len, fierce resentment mingled with Als grief. What trick was this? he Asked himself. What had he done to merit such misfortune? Had he not made Jich gifts to the church? Had he not khelt and prayed for his wife's safe delivery and then hung his gifts uN he sacred image, as Loyola had h his weapons before that other co lerpart of Our Lady? Don Este ban scowled at the memory, for those gems were of the finest
 He looked up from his unhappy musings to find a gigantic bare footed negro standing before him. The slave was middle-aged; his kinky hair was growing gray; but he was of superb proportions, and the muscles which showed through the rents in his cotton garments were as smooth and supple as those of a stripling. His black face was puckered with grief, as he began:
 Master, is it true that Donna Rosa
 " The fellow cholSed.
 'Yes.r Esteban nodded. wearily, "she is dead. Sebastian"
 Tears came to Sebastian's eyes and overflowed his cheeks; he stood mo tionless. striving to voice his sympathy. At length he said:
 "She was too good for this world.