Urumea

How beautiful are the niaiileiis of Guipúzcoa! AVho does uot admire their rosy chocks, the'.r red lips, their soft and OTpressive e.ves, their clear forcheads, the.r sniooth hair, their tall and grnccful figure, their movements so full of spirit iiud dignity. How bcautiful are these women of Guipúzcoa! Wlio c:vu resist their ench:tnlment; with a look, with a smile, they enchain the will so firiuly, aud enslave the hcurt so proudly. And:imong Ihe daughters of Guipuzcoa, not the least beautiiul or graceful or cbarming are the maidens of Donostia, ancient Izurun, that, like a white dove, at the foot of a green hill is nestled on Ihe banks of the crystal Urumea, lulled to sleep by the dreamy love notes of the Cantabrin sea. Poor Pedro Lartaun! A few months go he was the most jovial, most happy of young men; a few months ago his face bad always a siuilc, and lus cheeks were always rosy; but alas, one day bis blue eves met the chestnut ones of the prettiest maiden of Donostia; a glance from her sweet eyes struck deop iuto bis beurt; aud from tbat day poor Pedro became gloomy and silent; from tbat day he began to fade away ; the calm fled from bis chceks, and peacc from bis heart. Look at him! He is more like a cpecter tban a man. He resembles a corpse lliat had come from the tonib. wbere bis sius would not let him rest. And all this, not because Maria Loidi did not love him; oh, no - sbc bad told him thut a thousand times; but Pedro was a poor orphan, without friends, without a future, and the covetous father of Maria opposed their happiness; and to crown his niisery, the demon of jcalousy was tormenting the teniler heart of the youth. The wretchcd Pedro had lost all hope; he had resolved to leave his native land; to fly to the other side of the wor'd, to place the bigoceanbetween himself and the one he loved. The silly boy; d'd he imagine that absence from his country would restore the calm to his hcart! He would have to fly away from his heart itself, and that was impossible. Whevever he should go he would carry witb hira tho pain of his misfortune; he roight find the smiling plains of America, and leave behind the stormy sea, but not the less would he cariy with bim the stormy sea of his own bre;ist. Poor Pedro! Slowly, as if in spite of himself. and witb useless delays, he went tóward the post where he had to emb:irlc; he went like a criminal to the place of bis oxecution. The stieets of the city were deserted and silent; all the inhabitants liad gone to the pier to say good-by to their relatives and iriends und neighbors wüo were to sail across the soa. "How sad the city is," exclaimed Pedro; "ncarly as sad as my own heart. Alas íor me! Maria lookcd on mo with fuvoring eyes, and even her father was good to me, I was cbeated into dreaius of happiness. I dareil to teli my love, and Maria confessed hers. Oh, thcy lie, wlio say one dies of happiness too; for whv did I not die tbcn? What a smiling future lay before me at thut moment; it seemed to me as if all men ougbt to envy my luck; but wbat a little time it lasled! That same day their arrivcil from San Sebastian, this flrangcr, this hatcful Luis Bidarray. "The fjttluT received him with kindness, he covcred him with uüont'on, for his ricbea had aroused the desires of lhc old man, and I feit that he wanted to marry bis daughter to this Lu:s. Yet Maria continued to love me, or at least slie told me so every day; but at the samo time she treated this foreigncr with favor, she seemed enchauted by his deToliüii, sho smiled on him with swcftru-K-i. She was inueh more kind to him tban to me. Jealousy was küling me - my heart was on fire; I could not live so: I desired to end it at once for all; I asked Machin Loidi for the hand of his daughter, and he denied me rouudly. 'J'lien in a moment of madnestj 1 asktsd Maria to be married sccreily; 1 begged her to leave her hume and to follow me to a strange country, trhsre nothing could destroy our bappinc&s; but she said she did not want to give food to the gossips; that 6he ncver would falter in horduty; that ehc could not disgrace her family; that sbe would not be my wife without her fatber's consent. Alas, however much she longed to follow me I could not wisb to drag her from her father's hearth, where she is happy and lacks nothing. I could not wish to havo her tako the chances with one so unfortunate as I, wbose future promises little; but if she loved me truly, would she have given me so cruel an answer? "Io be sure she cried wben I said I was going to America, but ougbt she to I answer with tears? If she loved me she would have tried to keep me here, or have promised to remain single until I might make a fortune and return to j my country. The hope of winning her would have given me strength, and by tho grace of Janugo ka I misrht soon have been ricli - rieher than this Luis. Tl.cn I couUl have returnetl to my country aml have filled with gold tlie chests of oll Machin, and have carried off his dmightcr, dearer to my eyes than all tho tréasures of the world. Alas for iue! Maria does not love me! Maria doos not love me; she loves this Lus Bularía. These Frenehmen are gallant. they have a smooth tongue, they repeiit ihe llatteries so sweet to a Tvoman, and I do not wonder that this Fienchuian bas won away the heart of my Maiia." At tb is moment tho young man entered tbc street where Maria lived, and in spitc of bis bad temper be turned a questioning glance at the window of tho ïnaiden's room. He feit that he could not go without one look more at tbc face of his angel. On noticing that her window was sliut, and sceing no one at the other windows or balconies of tliti house, the young man let his eyns f.ill aud sighed sadly. Hut as he Iowered bis eyes, he trcnbled with joy to sce the btHlltifal Mmia at the tbreshoUt of the door; she vas waiting for h:m. . lVdro lliook üko a le:if. As he appri).-o:ie.l t)e pirl hisbcarl beatviolent',y. vid a Ilioinntid opposing impulses aaft'cl in hK bosom. At tbc door of 4nh't Loidi's houAc liio young man (tli-e 1, but so gioat w.is bis emotiou t;ii lic cowM not Suliite his lnvcil one. 1 Sh ookii;1.; at bim with an ndesonbal:c expression, cxolnimod: 'Why do you wish to leave our I!: quelandP Whero w you ünd a country so beaoliful as tliis which U the lióme of lbo lucky childwn of Aitor?" "At the olher side of the sea is a land a hundred times more beautiful than ! the foggy country of the Basques. The ' trees of that fair country produce fragrant pinenpples and savory guavas; , licious fruits, not likc these hore - erable betries and sour apples." "Miserable Lerries and sour apples are sweet to the taste of the sons of ihis land; and what does it matter if the fruits are sour, when our hcarta are not?" "Thero the lotos grows to incomparable beauty, tnllpa and roses adorn the immense plains, magnolias perfume the air, and the water lily stirs gracefully on the bosoui of the lake." "Botter than these sleopy flowers I love the white bell blossoms that adora our fresh green meadows of Guipúzcoa. More pleasing to me are the golden celandine, the purple fox glove, and the fragrant violet," "There the trees are giants, the woods are ibickcU where b.rds of gay plumage abound." "In our woods of heavy oaks and tall becches, wc hear, at the end of the day, the sweet notes of the nightinggale. I prefer our blackbird to any painted parrot" 'There the plains are immense as the ocean; the visión discloses a limitless horizon not at all likc that in our restricted valleys." 'Those great plains aro sad; I lovo the green and narrow fields, hemmed in by high inountains and watered by a clear river that runs in the shade of the leafy clustnuts." "The rivers of that región are not liko those of Urum 'a. for here we can talk from bank to bank without raisthe voice; all the waters of theUrumea might be turned into one of these grand streams; and nol i aerease the amount as much as a drop in the sea at high tide." "Ah, our clear rivers! Our gontle Urumea that comes from tho mountains of btautiful Navarra to kiss our Basque plains of Hernanla and Donostia. She has drunk the tcars of sorrow and grief of a hundied generations of Basques; our warriors found new vigor by bathing ih her waves, so often colored by Basque blood. The Drumea is a river of our race." "There they have grand mountains, giant piles crowning the volcanoes that throw up to hearon a torrent of lava." "But our Jaizkibel is beautiful; at its feet the impotent wavos break in fury; beautiful, too, is the tiarra of Aya, lit by the last rays of the sinking sun, and even more beautiful is the lofty peak of Hernio, half hulden by the shining snow. What matters it that we have no volcano-.is? Their lires do not help to kindie the heart; they are gooi! only to aid tho sad fires of a Fathor's house. " "There riches are the reward of work; there the poor man need not always remain so, however much he niay toil on the ingrate earth with the sweat of his brow." "Oh, no! tliis land is not ungrateful; here, too, the laborer can grow rich, or at least attain a modest independence. " "This brave Basque ouglit to remain all his days tied to the barren soil like a tiniid child to his mother's apron strings. How often has the smiling nympli appcared to me over the green waters of our bay, inviting me with her sweet voice to follow her to the otber side of the ocean, and offering me a joyous future. And I wish to obey the beautiful sea-nymph. I wish to follow the steps of tliose daring Basques that have crossed before me and returned laden with riches " '■This falso siren has enchanted you with her soit smiles, with her melodious acceuts and her hing promises to the credulous Basques. How many who have listened lie uow in the terrible abysses of the waters? And of those who reaehed the promiaed land, how many perishcd in a miserable existence? How few aoquired the riches tliey dreamed of? and even the fortúnate ones sighed to return to their native land?" "Is it poüsible to find a country 8O sad as this? Yonder, all brcathe hope; the air is clear, the sky blue, the sun aüre?" "But I love the white hazu that rises from our rivers, tho thick cloud that caps the tops of our mountains, the rain that swells our torrente and floods our pastures, the snow that covers our lields and hills, tbo pale sun that warms us but does not burn. Among these the body is strong and the blood fresh and tho head i-lear." "And the heart cold: is it not so? The women of that clime love with a passion, and wheu once they give their hearts, no matter how humble the man, they do not forget him for one more favored by fortuin;, nor do they treat the new lover with aftbction in the presence of the old one." "Ah, novv I sec well enough your wicked tbought; uow I know what you mean; but ought tlie Basque maidens to fail in hospitality? Ought they to appear stupid before a stranger? And if it is natural to receive him graciously, how much more kind should they be to the brother who visits our country - for Luis Bidarray is no stranger; ho is a brother; he has Basque, blood in his veins. His falhrs fought by our side at Roncesvalles, where the pride of the French was humbled." "The women born undor a tropical sun are not cold liko those of this clime; they love burningly and laugh at obstacles." "Go, then, to this wonderful place; get one of those women to love you and be happy if you can." '■Happy! Oh, no. I shall nover bo happy. When once I am in the ship that is to carry me to America. I shall nevur take my eyts froiu the shore, and when at last the dear land, where I could have been so happy, has sunk out of sight, then I shall live as in a tomb. I can never more look at anything with joy, and the hist bit of happiness will ily from my heart forever." "You are orylng - and do you really want to go awayP Oh.yousilly, senseless boy, truly do you de&erve my pity. But I love you wilh all my soul, and I shall die of grief if you }io away. I don't want you to leave me. Give me your hand and come - my father is waiting for you. He may be i little hard, but not of stonc as you think him. My dear niothei has bejiged him so earnestly that the good old man, who always liked you, has yielded to her entreatie9; he wishes to see aguarriod right awav. Come, Pedro, come. I shall take care that the paleness of our sun and the coldness of our elimo makes no Ulfference to you. 1 shall atone for it all by the warmth of niy hcart." ' Oh, forgive me, Maria - my angel. I was a fooi." "Yes, but let us forgot the past and think only of the future. Pniise lo Saungoikoa, who gave us happiness on the slioies of the Urumea, who saw our youthful games in the shade of these trees, and prai.se to this sweet land wuero rests the bones of our f athers. ' '