The Mena weekly star., 1919-01-16

bloated hugely. Matanzas became
peopled with a race of grotesquely
misshapen little folks, gnoines with
young bodies, but with faces old and
sick.
of course disease became epidemic,
for in the leaky novels, dirt-fioored
and destitute Of any convenience, there
could be no effort at sanitation. Con-
1ltions became unspeakable. The chill
dren died first, then the aged and In
tirm. Deaths in the street were not
uncommon; nearly every morning bod
les were found beneath the portales.
Starving creatures crept to the mar
ket In the hope of begging a stray bit
Of food, and some Of them died there.
between the empty stalls. The death
wagons heavy with their daily freight,
rumbled ceaselessly through the
streets, adding to the giant piles of
unburied corpses outside the city.
Typhoid, smallpox, yellow fever,
ragged unchecked. The hospitals were
crowded, and even in them the COM
monest necessities were lacking. 1t is
believed that men have returned from
the grave, but no one, either Spaniard
or Cuban, had ever been known to
return from one of these pesthouses
and, In consequence, those who were
stricken preferred to remain and to
die among their dear ones.
Yes, Matanzas was pacihed. Wey-
ler's boast was true. Nowhere in the
entire province was a field In cult
walton; nowhere, outside the garri-
soned towns, was house left stand
ing. Nor was the city of Matanzas the
only concentration camp; there were
others dotted through Santa Clara,
Habana and Pinar del Rio. In them
half million people cried for food.
Truly no rebellious land was ever
more completely pacified than this, no
peoples spirits ever more completely
crushed.
Into Matanzas, city of beggary and
death, came Rosa Varona and her two
negro companions, looking for relief.
They made the journey without mis-
hap, for they were too destitute to
warrant plundering, and Rosa's dis
guise concealed what charms remained
to her. But once they had entered the
city, what an awakeningi What suf-
fering, what poverty, what rags they
sawi The three of them grew weak
with dismay at the horror of it all ;
but there was no retreat.
Asensio built a makeshift shelter
close under La Cumbre-from 1t the
ruins of the Quinta de Esteban were
visible-and there they settled down
to live. They had hoped to lose them
selves among the other prisoners, and
in this they We're successful, for none
Of their miserable neighbors were in
any condition to notice them, and
there was nothing sufficiently con-
spicuous about two tattered blacks
and their hunchbacked daughter TO
draw attention from the soldiers.
Asensio foraged zealously, and at
first he managed somehow to secure
enough food for his little family. One
day the soldiers seized him and put
him to work on the Notifications along
with gang of other men who ap.
peared strong enough to stand hard
labor. Asensio was not paid for this
but he was allowed one meal day
and he succeeded in bringing home
each night share of his allotment.
II is surprising how little nourish'
ment will sustain life. Rosa and hei
two friends had long felt the pinch
of hunger, but now they plumbed new
depths of privation. for there were
days when Asensio and his fellow con
scripts received nothing at all. After
a time Evangelina began making bas-
kets and weaving palm-leaf hats, which
she sold at six cents each. She taught
Rosa the craft, and they worked from
dawn until dark, striving with nimble
tireless fingers to supplement Asensio's
ratjons and postpone starvation. But
1t was hopeless task. Other nimble
fingers worked as tirelessly as theirs
and the demand for hats was limited
Their hut overlooked the road tc
San Severino, that Via Dolorosa on
which condemned prisoners were
marched out to execution, and in time
the women learned to recognize tbs
peculiar blaring notes of certain cor
net, which signified that another ecu
ban cock was about to crow" Wher
in the damp Of dewy mornings they
heard that bugle they ceased theil
weaving long enough to cross them
selves and whisper prayer for the
souls of those who were on their way
to die. But this was the only respite
they allowed themselves.
Rosa meditated much upon the con
trast between her present and her for
mer condition. Matanzas was the cit,
of her birth, and time was when sh,
had trod Its streets In arrogance and
pride, when she had possessed friends
by the score among its residents. Blu
of all these there was not one to whom
she dared appeal In this, her hour Of
need. But even had she felt assured
of meeting sympathy, her pride wal
pure Castilian. and 1t would nevel
down. She, varona, whose name wal
one to conjure with, whose lineage wal
Of the hlghestl She to beg? Th'
thing was quite impossible. One crumb
so taken, would have choked her
Rosa preferred to suffer proudly ant
await the hour when hunger or disease
would at last blot out her memories
of happy days and end this nightmare