Macon beacon. [volume] (Macon, Miss.) 1859-1995, 1918-08-02
CHAPTER !.
The Valley Of Delight.

The valley OF Delight
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 Christepdom-'the loveliest valley
in the world" as Humboldt called it
for the Yumuri nestles right at your
feet, a vale Of pure delight. a glimpse
of Paradise that bewilders the eye and
;hlls the soul with ecstasy.
Standing beside the shrine of Our
Lady Of Montserrate, you will see be-
yond the cleft through which the river
energies another hill, La Cumbre, from
which the view Is 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
,artstocracy. Your cochero may point
out a certain grove Of orange trees,
now little more than q rank tangle,
and tell you about the quinta of Don
EEsteban Varona, and its hidden treas
rure 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 afluent they were least Sc
cure, and men were put to strange
shifts to protect their fortunes. Ger
tain boards, like jewels Of tragic his
tory, In time assumed a sort Of evil
personality, not ~infrequently exercising
q dire influence over the lives of those
who CHANGED 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
psrt Of the money he hid was wruhg
from the toll of slaves and the traffic
In their bodies, much of 1t 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 q part in the destinies 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
old one; it has been often told, and in
the telling and retelllng it is but natural
that a certain glamour, a certain
tropical extravaganza, should attach to
1t, therefore you should make allow
ance for some eXaggeratiOn, some ac-
cretions due to the lapse of time. In
the main, however, it is well authenti-
Gated 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 a grim man, took the
blow of 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 strobe
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 sui
len, fierce resentment mingled with
his grief. What trick was this? he
asked himself. What had he done to
merit such misfortune? Had he not
made rich gifts to the church? Had he
not knelt and prayed for his wife's
safe delivery and then hung his gifts
upon the sacred image, as Loyola had
hung up his weapons before that other
counterpart 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 niddle-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 stripping. His
black face was puckered with grief,
al he began:
Master, is 1t true that Donna Rosa
-" The fellow choked.
"Yes," Esteban nodded, YEARLY, "she
10 dead, Sebastian"
Tears came to Sebastian's eyes and
overlooked his cheeks; he stood mo-
ticnless, striving to voice his sympathy.
At length he said:
sEhe was too good Cor this world.