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I THE CASE OF
A SPANIARD'S AMERICAN STORY.
Written for The Pittsburg Dispatch
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PHILLIP BRAGGALAN.
THE OLLA PODRIDA.
AM a Spaniard on a
tour around and
around the -world.
J'MZ DoriS 2 of the co
"VsshS- "sstvears ox mv me j.
Jjfj?rhave traveled aim--PH
l?AvJJsly,oratleast with
If' ., ji. ..4l.n
ito find pleasure in
3?new and shifting
"'sights, liong ago I
I 5)c. exhausted the novel
J" ties of the big cities
of all lands, aud then I took to stopping in
bit journeys whenever and wherever the
whim seized me. That is the reason why I
came upon, and participated in, the events
which I have set my pen to writing out.
In New York I read a newspaper para
graph about the building of a church in
Montreal after the model of a cathedral in
Madrid, and within a few hours I started
toward the Canadian city. There are two di
rect and rapid routes in common use for
through traffic, but I choose to take a slower
and less usual journey midway between the
better and swifter lines. I had traversed
two or three connecting railroads, and had
spent eight or nine hours in going ICO miles,
-when a signboard fixed my Spanish eyes in
terestedly. I am so much of a cosm .olitan
that three or four languages are quite as apt
to mv utterance and my vision as my native
one." Yet when I saw'01Ia Podrida" let
tered on the front of a small house near the
station at Hoosac, I was positively thrilled
by the naming of Spain's national dish in
rural 2sew York, and I hastily decided to,
visit the premises.
The restaurant had not prosperously in
troduced the olla podrida to Americans, for
the establishment was a crude, cheap eating
place, although neat enough. But Moa
Barrios was there, and alter a visitor got
sight of her the rest of the things in the
house were not much considered. I saw in
stantly that Spanish blood coursed through .
her veins. She was tall, Hobly formed, and
beautiful. Her foot caressed the earth when
the trod, one might have poured water under
the arched instep. Her hands were small,
though haraened with work. The cheitnut
eyes with the golden tinge, the chestnut
curls with the sunbeams they imprisoned,
the pearly teetb, the scarlet lips, were all
careless in their loveliness. But the features
were straight, and the level brows had lost
their childish curves; and her voice was
deep and full, like that of a born queen.
Her blue bodice held her lithe figure like an
embrace. Folds of white linen, enclosed her
Boftlv-heavinc bosom.
What was iloa Barrios? Merely a girl
of twentv-two, who helped the Widow Daw
ers and her son Albert to keep the little
makeshift inn to which the placard "Olla
Podrida" had brought me.
"O, I'm Spanish only in name and par
entage," she said to me, when I asked
questions about herfcelf. 'M.y father and
mother came from Spain, but I was born in
this country and was left an orphan in
childhood. I don't even know a hundred
works of my mother's language "
jt"And two of them are olla podrida'?" I
suggested.
"Yes."
"And do von know how to cook the
dish?"
"Yes; for we used to eat it when my
mother was alive, and I remembered how to
make it after a fashion. "When I came to
work here, a cheap and palatable specialty
was desired, and I produced it."
So this Spanish princess of my discovery
was caly a menial cook. I expressed my
surprire at that.
"O, I'm a sort of partner," she smilingly
explained "And it is only for a month
longer, anyhow. I am to marry Albert
Dawers, and we are to go to farming by our
selves." "That seems more like what you are fitted
for, and yet not al! you desire. You are
fairly schooled you are intelligent you
are beautiful"
I had presumed upon mv age to pay a
broad compliment, but a blaze of red in her
cheeks and a flash of fire in her eyes stopped
me. Her emotion was hardly anger, for in
a moment she calmly said: "I have had
enough of trving to rise in the world. We
won't talk about me. Are you going to stay
to supper, and over nigh't? This isn't so
ranch of a hotel that we can properly care
far you unwarned."
I answered that I would like to be fed
and lodged. Then I lounged out on a
veranda, which adjoined the bit of a bar
room, and found the saloon part of the
premises shut. Only in the long winter
evenings did th: bibulous neighbors con
gregate therein. At this summer season the
interval between their field work and their
bedtime was toobrief to permit of sociability.
Therefore the business of the honse consisted
of selling chance meals and lodgings to
travelers. The Widow Dawers explained
this to me, in a somewhat surly manner, and
left me to prepare a bedroom for my occu
pancy. Then Moa came to ask whether I
would prefer bacon and eggs or fried
sausages for supper.
'Neither," said I. "Give me olla
podrida."
k Does my reader know what that is? The
olla podrida or national hot-pot, ordinarily
eaten every day by the Spaniards in every
part of Spain, is really more of a dinner than
a, dish. and, therefore, rainy eat nothing else.
Spanish cookery is reported by your travel
ers, who have roughed it in the Sierras, to be
nothing but a question of sufficient grease;
and truly they mix things a trifle too much,
and season too highly for other than manner-born
tastes. A little good will is highly
necessary to habituate oneself to certain
saucer and gravies peculiar to Spanish
kitchens, and I am a loreigner to my native
land in that respect. As economically made,
a large piece of boiled meat generally forms
the center of the dish. Around it are the
wings of a fowl, a chorizo or two, fat bacon,
Tegetables and ham under it. Over the
meat and in all spare corners are garbanzos
(peas). Such is the ordinary olla, but every
family modifies it accord i ng to their purse.
The poor man is content with meat and
chick-peas, the gentleman adds to it various
delicacies. Upon questioning Moa I found
that she habitually omitted the essentially
Spanish ingredients, aud really produced a
slight variation of what you Americans call
a chicken stew.
"Won't that suit you?" she asked.
"So," I answered, whimsically deter
mined to taste the Spanish dish once more
in its best formation. "Let us get up the
genuine thing. I will help yon."
"AH right," she responded, "if Albert
and Mamma Dawers will assist."
Albert Dawers was there at that instant to
reply for hiruselr. He was a big aud
brawny yonng man, heated and tired from a
day of having, but good looking and amia
ble. He entered into the project with
spirit, despite his fatigue. But when I in
sisted that the olla podrida should be of an
elaborately correct description, requiring
several hours to manufacture, it was decided
to time it late in the evening, and ask a few
'of the young couple's friends to keep their
appetite for it.
We had a merry time at the work. Upon
Moa't crude formula I superimposed the
extras to form the dish really fit for Spanish
commendation. Albert went willingly here
and there after such ingredients as the house
did not already contain, and even bis
fcMKttS " I!
liTUH II Xk 0
1M
MOA BARRIOS.
mother relaxed considerable of her grimness
as she helped a little, and Moa seemed
handsomer than ever in the mild excitement
of the mingling labor and pastime. The
reader who is also a housewife may care to
know that we first stewed some lean beef
and peas together; that simultaneously we
boiled a fowl along with a little ham,
smoked sausages and vegetables; that there
was a seasoning, to a higher degree than
most American palates might like, with
saffron, parsley and bay leaves; and that
finally, after mixing all these materials,
some hard boiled eggs, artichokes, giblets
and other things were added. All this pro
duced a finer olla podridaithat the little
restaurant at the Hoosac had ever before
seen, and such as wealthy Spaniards in their
own country are accustomed to eat. It was 9
o'clock in theevening before the dozen invited
guests were sealed at the table, and the late
ness of the meal insured voracious appe
tites. We served the result of our cookery
in a more formal fashion, too, than the
tavern had been accustomed to. There was
a dinner of several courses; beginning with
a soup dipped from the gravy of the olla,
strained from the meats and poured boiling
hot over slices of toast. After this the beef
was served with the peas. Then followed
the fowl and other vegetables. It was an
unaccustomed feast for the company, and
they enjoyed it so gcnuinelv and heartily
that the occasion proved more amusing to
me than anything else I had encountered in
my travels lor a long while.
It was observable that Moa, although she
entered into the spirit of the affair, was not
all the time engrossed in it. I watched her
closely, impelled by admiration, and dis
cerned that she had spells of serious thought,
or recurring melancholy quite out of har
mony with the general jollity. That led me
to be attentive to her, not with any idea of
gallantry, but merely because she interested
me. The beverage which accompanied the
meal up to the last mouthful was cider, and
the juice of the apple was old enough to
have developed a fair percentage of alcohol,
so that the drinkers felt its exhilaration; but
as a climax I insisted upon brandy, which,
as I explained, would take the place of the
native Spanish liquor usually swallowed for
digestion's sake alter a hearty olla podrida.
The men followed my direction readily, but
the women were reluctant, and in the case of
Moa I poured a spoonful or so into her glass
and jocosely insisted that she should take it.
She bantermgly declined and then seriously
repulsed me.
"I will not have it, and let that satisfy
you," she said, in a low but emphatic voice.
"To, she shall not drink it," Albert
added, in a savage whisper
The demeanor of the young couple was
such a sudden alteration from their previous
cordiality that my tace expressed, although
my tongue did not utter, surprise and curi
osity. Albert saw this at once, and said
apologetically:
"I beg your p irdon, but to see Moa drink
from a glass a. led for her by a stranger
would be sonietmng I couldn't stand. No
I am not jealous of you. That isn't it at
all. My reason is good, though, and to-mor;
row I will tell it to you. Don't let us say
any more about it to-night or think about
it for that would be apt to spoil Moa's cood
humor, and mine too."
The supper was alreadv over, and with
much merriment and satisfaction the party
dispersed.
n.
ALBEET DA-WEES' STOBY.
Next day Albert Dawers kept his promise
to tell me the story of himself and Moa. I
am not a stenographer, and at the time
there seemed no occasion for an exact record;
but subsequent events fixed the narrative in
my memory, and I shall not be importantly
inaccurate in writing bis narrative, although
the diction may be less his than my own.
But we will regard the rest of this chapter,
if the reader please, as being essentially
Albert's own language.
Moa and I were brought up together here
in Hoosac You see what a handsome
woman she ha 8 grown to be. That is only
the maturity of a beauty that marked her
from her earliest years. Her folks died,
and left her alone: but my father was then
alive, and he and mother took her into our
family. Well, we called each other brother
and sister at first; then cousin, and finally
she got to know that I was her lover, al
though we never spoke of it. Father died,
and mother kept up this little tavern, with
the patch of a farm. Moa is Spanish, you
know, no matter if she never saw Spain, and
from her mother she learned a lot of Spanish
legends. One of these she often told. It
was that ot a Princess who was an evil
sorceress, and by her arts won the love of a
pure young priest, and never rested till
she had tempted him to sin by marrying
her, although he had solemnly vowed him
self to celibacy. In despair he cast himself
from the high rocks at the full of
the tide, and was drowned. And she, rid-
'?
Moa Jieuics the Proffered Glass.
ing alone upon the sands next day
found the body floating in a little cove, and
leaning froru'hfr saddle, plucked off her
silken sliper and smote the dead face upon
either cheek with mocking words. And
here came a wonder. For the dead hand
raised itself, and caught her by the wrist,
dragged her from the trembling steed, and
held her in a grip that never relaxed until
the sea came up and sucked her wicked life
ont with its sharp, salt kisses. But the
steed galloped home, and they tracked its
hoof marks to the shore next day at the ebb
of the tide. And there they found her.
But the dead hand kept its hold until the
holypriorolthe monastery sprinkled it with
holy water, and conjured it in the Holy
Name. Then did the rigid fingers open.
And so they buried the monk on the wild
seashore, bo that the seabirds might scream
above him forever, and the roar of the ocean
be in his ears till the judgment day. But
the body of the Witch Princess they burned
with pitch facgots, and the dust of her was
scattered to the four winds of the heaven
she had outraged.
Well, it was autumn five years ago. The
corn was all cut,-the apples had been gath
ered indoors, and the people were free to
take a rest from their work. We live with
in five miles of New England, you know,
and husking bees are still held here. We
had one in tie barn over there. It was a
jollification. Moa was the life and soul of
. ot :i-j :- i:t - .-
story of the Witch Princess and her monkish
lover; aud as she ended, and the voices of
those who had listened were loud in praise,
I lifted my eyes from her and saw that a
stranger had joined our party. He was tall,
showily dressed, after the fashion of cities,
and of middle age. He joined in the ap
plause, and loudly, as if he wished to attract
WM 3S& ln-Stf
MwMzffi U
THE PITTSB1JRG-
Moa's notice, but sho never looked at him.
We ate our roasted apples, and drank the
hot cider to each other's health, and danced
on the floor of the old barn in the light of
candles.
Next day the stranger came to this house.
He was a rich man. so ther said, and well
known in New York. He took up bis
board in our house, for the Bake of the
hunting and fishing hereabouts, and we
made him welcome. He slept in the spare
room you are now using, and ate and drank
or the best that we could give. He told us
his name, or the name by which it was his
whim to be known among us Henry Mer
cer. A curse upon his name! A curse upon
the day when he brought his face into our
nouse! ... ,
November came; the skies grew gray and
the last poppies ot the year hung withered
The Legend of the Princess.
amongst the barley stubble. It was on
Thanksgiving Eve when I first spoke of
love outright to Moa. We were in the
kitchen together, where the "brown onions
hung in ropes from the smoke-stained beams
of the ceiling, and the old marriage plates
of mv father's family hnng on the wall.
The fire burned low on the wide hearth; a
great tree root lay beside it that I had rolled
up from the beach for fuel. It was cracked
by sun, and I strove, instead of using the
hatchet, to widen a long split with my
fingers and wrench a piece away. She
mocked me and said I could not do it. Her
eyes gleamed at me in the firelight provok
incly, and the power of her womanhood
struck me like a blow. I seized the great
root by two jagged horns of it and rived it in
half, but still she mocked at me. I stepped
across to her, took her roughly round the
waist and kissed her till she kissed me back
again and vowed before God to be my faith
ful wife. Then I sought my mother and
told her the news.
"You are my son, and the house and farm
are yours," she'said. "And Moa has grown
up in the house, it is not to be denied. The
good God give you a true wife in her!"
She shook her head and twirled her distaff
till she broke the thread. I wentout vexed,
but soon forgot my grievance in the light of
Moa's smile.
Henry Mercer heard the news next day.
It had gone round the village. He smiled
and said that I was a likely fellow to have
gone so quietly about securing the hand
somest girl in Hoosac He said, too, that
he grieved that he should not be able to
witness our marriage and salute the bride,
as the time had now come when he must re
turn to New York. The evening came the
last he was to spend among us and he ate
and drank with us and told us stories.
He called for wine, and drank
a health to our betrothal.
This isn't much of an inn, and it hasn't a
wine cellar, but he brought a bottle of Ma
deira from the. village. The glasses were
few, and he offered Moa bis. The wine ac
quired a richer flavor from the touch of her
lips, he whispered in her ear. I heard him,
and passed it over as an idle compliment,
though I saw the red color burn across her
cheeks and throat. An instant only, and it
was gone. Bat she took the glass and drank
to him, and he to her. We told tales, and
sang, and he joined us. And, last of all,
nothing would do but Moa must tell the
story of the Witch Princess. He had al
ways praised her elocution whenever she
had recited anything, and told her that she
had the making ot a fine actress.
Next morning he left us. He had bought
the old discarded spining wheel in the
garret, and my mother rejoiced in a lapfnl
of silver coin. He had given me his meer
schaum pipe with the silver setting. Every
body had a gift but Moa. I was secretly
vexed that she should be neglected so.
Christmas was not far off. I had to go to
Petersburg to buy extra provisions for the
holidays, and I made up my mind to pur
chase something by way of a gift for my
girl. Night had fallen when I returned,
and the door of the home stood open; but
there was no cherry firelight to welcome me.
The table was.bare. There were no prepara
tions for supper. Beside the black hearth
my mother sat with her head bent upon her
knees. A roughly scrawled letter lay be
side her. I stooped and picked it up. She
motioned me to read it. We both learned
what one of -us had guessed before, Moa
was a traitress to me.
Mercer had lured her away she who was
only too ready to believe bis fulsome praises
to trust his lying promises. She had it
in her to become a great actress, he had told
her a woman who should rule the world
ere long bv the combined power of her
beauty and her genius. She promised to
make us all rich by and by. She bade me
look elsewhere for a wife and forget her.
She I folded the letter, and raised my
mother up, bidding her weep no more
"What are you going to do?" she asked in
fear.
I suppose I looked wild and terrible
enough.
"I am going to seek her out," I said.
"She says that she is to marry this man. I
want to know that it is so."
Then I went upstairs.changed my clothes,
put all the money I had into my pocket,
and packed a handbag for my journey. I
heard my mother moving below, lighting
the fire and getting the meal ready, for
whether a woman had broken her son's
heart or no, he should not starve of that
she was determined. Before I went down
I laid the shawl that I had bought for Moa
carefully away in the chest in which I kept
my treasures, and as I smoothed the folds a
great sob rose in my breast, and a passion of
tears overtook me. But I composed myself
soon and rose and went downstairs.
Early the next day I was on my journey.
I had something else in my breast besides
my money. It was the gold chain with the
coral locket attached to it that I had given
to Moa. I found it in a hollow near the
threshold, where it had lain all night. The
chain was broken, as if she had torn it
roughly from her neck and cast it from her
in breaking the last link of the fetter that
had bonnd her to me. Although my first
impulse was to set my heel uponit and
grind it to powder, it ended in my taking it
with me. Try as I would, I could not hate
her all at once.
In New York I first spent two days in
learning that there was no theatrical man
ager named Mercer. Not even the smallest
variety show was conducted by such a man.
Of Moa I could get no trace. I frequented
the theaters, I searched in public ballrooms,
in the concert balls, in lower places still. I
never rested, seeking night and day for
months. And at last I found her, one night
in the streets. She was poorly dressed, and
as the yellow gaslight fell full upon her
face, something in its look made me tremble.
I lollowed her, blindly, a long way it
seemed. Strangers spoke to her once or
twice, but she only turned her face upon
them for an instant, and glided on, like a
ghost, I thought. Kesentment seemed dead
in me. I kept my revenge for Mercer. Only
a great wide pity filled my heart for the
woman who had betrayed me. We
went pn and on, through the
gaslit streets. It seemed not long
after that we were in the Bowery, and then,
still following closely behind her, we were
upon the wonderlnl bridge that crosses the
East river, with the long lines of lamps
stretching awajr before us till they seemed
to meet in a point of fire at the Brooklyn
end. The black sky of midnight was over
head. The stars were few and pale Be
neath our, feet the great river ebbed fat be
low the enormous span of the- suspended
bridge Moa leaned on the railing and
peered down through the network of iron
into the dark water. Suddenly she leaped
upon the balustrade. I seized her before
she could take the leap. She 'fought like a
wildcat, but I would not let her go. At
last, when I dragged her back, and the light
shone fall upon ay face, she cried, "Al
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DISPATCH,'
bert 1 Albert 1" and fell at my feet like one
struck dead.
She lay ill for many days at my lodging,
waited on by me and the good landlady.
When she recovered her senses she knew
me, and wept, and by decrees I learned the
whole story a common, ugly story enough.
He had tired of his handsome toy, and left
it to the world to break, in a few months.
He was no theatrical manager. He bore a
well-known name, altnough a black sheep
in his family flock. He had married Moa;
not with ceremony, but with formality suf
ficient to be binding in law, "probably. That
point has never been tested. I brought her
back to Hoosac. Of the sad past no one
spoke to her. I thought of her as a man
thinks of n woman whom- he has loved and
whom he can love no more But I was mis
taken about that. In spite of her ruined
hopes, her listless hopelessness, her evident
despair and her physical wreck of her
former self, I loved her as mnch as ever.
A. year passed, and then something hap
pened that you must promise to keep a
secret. I tell it to you because you are a
wise man an experienced man a man fit
to advise a half-distracted fellow. I want
to gain your confidence by intrusting to you
what has until now been known to only
three persons Moa, Mercer and myself.
The belief that Mercer would seek her out
eventually never left her. I nursed the de
sire ot vengeance still, but I let it slumber.
A time would come when it would wake.
One day a stranger got off a train at this
station and inquired for the dwelling of
Miss Barrios. As I afterward learned, his
errand was to obtain some papers which
Mercer had intrusted to Moa, and which she
had brought away from New York. They
had become vitally important to him, and he
wished to recover them by force or fraud.
By the stranger's threats she was unmoved,
to his offered bribes insensible, to his elo
quent pleading she only answered in few
words :
"The papers are mine. They were given
to me by the man himself. Let him come
for them himself, if he wishes to have
thpm."
The stranger went away dejected, and re- '
DISCOVERING THE
turned in a few days. They conferred to
gether in low voices, and he went away sat
isfied. Mercer was coming then! I went
about my work as usual, but Moa saw some
thing in my face that had not been there
before and beckoned me aside and said:
"You are thinking of revenge. It is
right of you, for I am only a woman and
cannot avenge myself! But you must let
me see him first alone t He is to meet me
at the Snow Hole to-morrow, when there is
no one about. When he leaves me do your
will. You have wrongs to avenge as well
as L It is a bargain, brother, is it not?"
She called me "brother" now, as in the for
mer time
You do not know the Snow Hole? It is
considered a curiosity in these parts, but I
suppose it wouldn't amount to much in the
eyes of a traveler. TJp yonder on Hoosac
Mountain is a cave almost filled with ice the
Albert Saves Moa Prom Suicide.
year round. The opening is like a wide well,
under a shelving rock, so that the sun never
shines in. The snow drifts into it in winter,
and melts just enough in the hottest days in
summer to form ice. This solidly frozen sur
face extends obfiquely down into the cave,
which nobody has ever explored.
It did not at the time strike me as singular
that Moa chose the Snow Hole as the place
to meet Mercer. That was a quiet spot where
they would not likely be seen, and one
which, beine easily designated, secured a
natural selection. The hour for the confer
ence approached. Her cheeks were flushed.
Her eyes were shining strangely. She was
more beautiful than ever. She went on her
way, and I followed her stealthily. As she
went she spoke snatches of the story of the
Witch Princess. I saw her climb the cliff
and stand on its summit. I saw the man's
figure as he came forward to meether
sharply outlined against the sunset a!P I
crept as close as I could to the Snow Hole,
bidden by a jntting rock. I saw him bend
toward her and speak earnestly. She
stepped back and shook her head. He drew
out of his breast pocket a roll of.bank-notes,
he who had driven her ont penniless to
starve the villain! and held them toward
her. She struck them from his hand. The
wind caught them, and they disappeared
into the cave of ice. He threatened. He
put out his hand to her breast and seized
the papers. She stepped sharply aside, and
he moved as quickly. He stood with his
back to the cave. Then with a wild cry she
threw herself upon him. She clung to him
locked him in a deadly embrace The
meaning of it all rushed upon me She
meant to realize the legend of the Witch
Princess by falling with him into the Snow
Hole, and so ending their lives together. I
flung myself at her, intent only on saving
her life alone. I caught her by ber skirt
and drew her back.
Mercer was held by her encircling arms so
tightly that he, too, was saved by my rescue
of Moa. I think that, in my race, I should
have flung him into the cave, and let him
disappear into its unknown frozen depth:
but in terror he fled so quickly that I could
not lay hands on him. We have not seen
him since The papers only had slid down
into the cave
Well, Moa slowly regained her "beauty.
She is to marry me Only one thing is a
problem. Was she legally the wife of Mer
cer? I do not think so. Of course, if she
.were so, a divorce could be gained, but not
without exposing the whole of her advent
ure in New York, and probably her attempt
to kill him' and herself at the Snow Hole.
That would make us both unhappy.. You
say that, under the circumstance, we could
-ixswy-wK?
ot SlL-
$m.
mmt?
SUHDAT
NOVEMBER
10,
admit tacitly the informality of the union
with Mercer, and safely marrv. so far as the
law is concerned? We will follow your ad
vice. You wish us joy? Thank you, air
thank you.
HI. .
A PEOSECTTTOE'S NAEEATIVE.
Two years after Albert Dawers had told
me the story of his betrothal with Moa Bar
rios, she was on trial on a charge of murder;
and it was I who had brought her to the
bar of justice The beautiful young woman
flashed across the court at me a look of
scorn and contempt when we encountered
each other's gaze, at the opening of the pro
ceedings. Yet X, who had made these
wholly conscientious efforts to hang her
that seemed certain to be crowned by suc
cess, felt that however much I might de
serve her detestation, I in no sense was
other than a procurer of just punishment.
Nevertheless, I pitied her. Beside her sat
Albert, visibly anguished by the sorrow
through which she had brought him.
It was but a tragic variation of the
old story of Enoch Arden, only this
Enoch in the person of Henry Mercer
did not steal away, leaving her to
happiness, but remained, to be speedily re
moved by her hand, unless all things in
heaven and earth lied against her. Still I
felt for the first time sorry for my work,
when that look of hers, in which spoke a
virile innocence so sure of itself as easily to
affbrd contempt, flashed upon some inner
consciousness of mine, leaving outside it the
brain that had already tried and found her
guilty. But no I had seen this strong,
calm woman in throes of fear and agony,
ber not easily moved nature shaken to its
very depths, and no criminal yet ever had
circumstantial evidence so pitilessly arrayed
against her. I forced mv eyes from her and
fixed them on the District Attorney, who
had already commenced his opening ad
dress. It is best that I should quote his
MISSING DOCUMENTS.
words for this chapter, because they told
succinctly the case against the prisoner.
This woman, Yonr Honor and gentlemen
of the jury, grew up in Hoosac in the man
ner I have briefly described, until her mar
riage with Henry Mercer. Whether that
wedlock was legal or no is not material. It
is certain that she believed it to be so during
the short time she lived with him in New
York, and that upon leaving him she had.
reason to know that he had outrageously de
ceived and maltreated her. In that fact we
find a motive of vengeance. The prosecu
tion has not been able to learn that there
was any communication between them from
the moment of their parting until the final
tragedy. Alter a lapse of about five years, .
she boldly announced that she was going to
marry Albert Dawers a man whose charac
ter was as good as her former husband's had
been the reverse, and whom she loved with
a passion more than equal to the detestation
she had felt for the other. From being the
butt of a drunken and brutal scoundrel, she
became the cherished and adored wife
of the best looking and best natured
man in the village, and for
some brief months tasted that supreme
happiness which is known only to those per
sons who'in the past have actually suffered.
Perhaps so much content irritated the on
lookers, for onlv cold looks were cast upon
the lovers, while the malicious prophesied
that Mercer's return would cut short the
pair's felicity, even affecting not to consider
them man and wife at all, so that by degrees
they became isolated from their neighbors,
and they decided to at once remove to the
farm which Dawers had leased for a term of
years. They did so. There new home was
a lovely one, back in the mountains near
the" Massachusetts boundary line. There
they dwelt as much alone as on a deserted
island. The woman defied her world, caring
nothing, but the man felt her position
keenly, and persuaded her that it was best
to migrate to the far West To this she at
last very reluctantly consented.
Six months, then, after the ceremony that
the villagers declared no ceremony, Moa
Barrios sat one night by the fire in the al
most empty house from which she was to
depart on the morrow with the man who
represented all the sweetnessand happin'ess
she had found in her life. She heard a step
on the path, the latch lifted, and we may
surely pity the unhappy woman when,
springing through the dusk, she found her
self clasped in the arms, not of Albert
Dawers, but of Henry Mercer. Of what
passed between them God alone was wit
ness, and God alone knows the truth, but
when the man she loved came in an hour
later, she was sitting by the hearth, with no
sign of excitement or anxiety about ber.
She prepared the supper, ate with him, and
from that moment lie never left her until
they rose early next morning to be in time
for the train that was to take them west
ward. So much Dawers lias said in his pre
liminary testimony, most reluctantly given,
but still more reluctantly two" damn
ing pieces of evidence against her
were drawn from him. He said
they had arranged with a neighbor to take
over to the Hoosac station the furniture
they possessed, and had sent on their .small
personal belongings the day before, but
there were some few odds and ends to be
packed, and he had brought in a coil of
stout rope for binding them together. At
starting the,rope was missing, but his wife
could not account for its disappearance
more than himself, and did not fuss about
it, as most women would have done under
the circumstances. At breakfast (this was
only dragged from him bit -by bit) he no
ticed that she ate very little, but furtively
collected food on one plate and set it aside
03 if for an expected guest. He asked her
why she did this, and she said the neigh
bors would be all over the house the mo
ment their backs were turned, and she
would gratify their curiosity as to what
they had for breakfast. He reminded her
that their landlord was away for a few days,
and that no one would know the
secret place hitherto agreed upon where
they were to hide the key of the
honse. She laughed strangely, and
said that, though you might lock people
oat, you could not lock theui in. Then they
collected their small effects, and without a
Godspeed from a friend, or a kindly eye to
follow them on their path, passed from the
home in which tbey had been to happy, to
start for the one that had yet to be earned in
the uncertainty ot the future Perhaps the
man looked behind, but at some distance
from the house the prisoner did more she
affected to have forgotten something, and
bidding him go forward, ran quickly back.
Hut he reluctantly admitted (hat she re
turned empty-handed; that she was pale as
a corpie, with wild eyes; that .sue gasped for
breath, stammering and presenting every
appearance of a woman who has received
some terrible' shock, though when he asked
her if she had met with some Insult from a
passing neighbor she shook her head, hat
1889
j-
would give so explanation of her state Sho
showed extraordinary eagerness to catch the
train, but did not utter one syllable on the
W3T. .....
Very soon after the outset of their journey
on the railroad a sinister incident occurred,
and this important episode (here the counsel
turned and looked steadily at the writer of
this story) was witnessed by a gentleman to
whose keen observation, swift action and
masterly manipnlation of fact and surmise
was due the brilliantly conclusive chain of
Mercer Jiemands Sis Papers.
evidence that has brought her where she is
to-day. He was traveling through this re
gion by rail. By chance he was in the car
which the prisoner and her husband entered.
They took a seat next in front of him. He
recognized them, for he had once stayed a
day or two at the tavern they formerly kept
at Hoosac. He would have spoken to them
but for the fact that Dawers looked troubled
and perplexed, and the woman gave him
the impression of a natnre convulsed and
shaken to its very core. He saw the fine
hands clenched beneath her shawl, the
splendid eyes blind to all save some awful
inward sight, and he recognized that a
tragedy had been or was. to be enacted. He
watched her, with entire unconsciousness to
herself, for mile upon mile. His vigilance
was unexpectedly rewarded. She moved
abruptly, searched her pocket for a hand
kerchief with which to wipe her damp brow,
and pulled ont with it a small box, that fell
into Dawers' lap. The blank horror in her
eyesslowlyquickenedwithsomerecollection.
She stretched her hand to take it, hut he
drew back, and with astonishment in his
face lifted the lid and found the contents to
be a white powder. Into this powder he
thrust his forefinger and instantly applied
it to his tongue. On the moment he cried
out that his tongue was burning, then that
his throat and stomach -were on fire, and
violent nausea completed the symptoms of
having tasted a strong irritant poison.
"You have taken arsenic," cried the
stranger, whereon the prisoner shrieked out,
snatched the box from Dawers' hand, and
threw it far out of the window.
The stranger took the exact bearings of
the spot where it must have fallen. They
were then close to a station. There he got
out, having watched these two until the last
moment. They were so agitated and ab
sorbed that they did not identify him as
their former guest. Dawers was urging
questions on her, but beyond that one shriek
the stranger heard no sound issue from her
white lips from first to last Only his physi
cal pain moved her, and as the other closed
the door, he saw her lean forward, and press
his hands with a passion of tenderness that
startled the gazer. Clearly the poison was
not intended for the husband; therefore for
whom?
The stranger bade the conductor watch the
pair and telegraph to him. Then he re
traced the distance he had come from a cer
tain point, and with very little difficulty
found what he wanted. The box was three
parts full of arsenic. He locked the box
away, said nothing to anybody, but
watched the papers carefully. He had not
long to wait. On the fourth morning he
read how in a buttery, or well, dug deep for
the sake of coolness, under the house where
the prisoner had lived, had been found the
dead body of a man whose appearance gave
rise to suspicions of foul play, and who, on
examination, was 'found to have in his vis
cera sufficient arsenic to kill three or four
men. The man was well clothed, well nour
ished, and in his pockets was plenty of
money. He was identified as Henry Mer
cer. We shall introduce a witness who will
testify to seeing a man enter the house at 7
o'clock the evening before the pair left, but
he saw no one come out, though his work
kept him near by till 8, when Dawers him
self came home He was not close enough
to hear voices, though he could easily have
heard a cry had there been one. He peeped,
as would be shown in his evidence, but
could see nothing. With what superhuman
swiftness and strength must this woman
have overcome her victim, so that not even
a moan or cry reached the spy without!
What self-control must have been hers,
that she could meet her husband with a
smile, and sit at supper with him that
night, however absolutely she might
breakdown on the morrow! In one short
hour she had done as much and
more than a man could do, and she
had done it thoroughly. Secure by
her hearth, the murdered man. hidden at
her feet, she sat with undaunted front, not
the smallest trace around of the victim who
had visited her. Without that hollow cave
below, she might have murdered, but could
not have concealed him, but as it was. this
hiding place favored the swiftness and sub
tleness of the crime to an extraordinary de
gree For who could believe that he walked
of his own free will to the disused trap-door,
and deliberately elected to be lowered by a
rope to a cold, noisome dungeon for tnis
unusual buttery had not been used for a
longtime. Not It was for Albert Dawers
to quail, to slink out of sight as a defrauded
man, or if Mercer showed himself moved by
his wife's entreaties, and actually' con
sented to leave her to her happiness, would
he not have left, as he came, by the house
door?
We see no such scene when in imagina
tion we project our gaze upon that bare, dis
mantled room. We see a man who, what
ever he may have been to her in the past,
had since possibly repented. He had re
membered the woman he had once loved.and
returned to share his prosperity with her.
He found her more beautiful than ever, and
probably, the very thought of taking her
away from another man enhanced her value
in his not over fastidions mind. He meant
to have his rights, and told her so, while the
miserable woman only half heard him in
straining her ears for her present and be
loved partner's step without. She must
have acquiesced to ail appearance in his de
mands, or he would not have taken from her
hands the ,cup of milk with which she
stealthily mixed the poison. And, strangely
enough, she must have also been possessed
at the time of a strong narcotic, since traces
of one were found in the stomach, so that
the cool, firm handrdoubly doctored the
draught she handed to the unsuspecting
man. Let us picture her then, watching his
unavailing struggles and agonies, till the
opiate deadened the effects ot the poison,
and he sank down in a stupor that she knew
must end in death nay, that may have
ended abruptly in death, as she stood by and
watched him. ......
Her crime is accomplished, but how to
hide it? See, her eyes wander hither and
thither over the walls the floor npon the
door through which she might dra? this
heavy weight, but that she may meet Daw
ers on the threshold! Her glance falls on a
discolored ring level with the floor, and
scarcely visible, save to those who know
where" to look for it. She creeps nearer and
nearer to it. She kneels down and drags at
the rusty ring. A square door, abont the
width of a strong man's shoulders, rise
toward herr beneath is a black void, and
that void is to be the hiding place of her
husband's body. Close at hand lies a coll
of cord. She deliberately cuts it in half,
and kneeling down beside him makes one
portion fast around his body below the arm
pits, then with the two ends drags that
huddled, helpless body easily enough alone
the floor, until the open square Is reached.
AM now eeM the saoet difficult part,.
physically, of her enterprise. To thrust
him feet foremost down that
pit would be easy enough, yet,
with all a woman's extraordinary insensi
bility to crime, but sensitiveness to cruelty,
she could not bring herself to do this, but
with arms stronger surely than a woman's
ever were, lowered him so carefully1 that not
a bruise or mark was anywhere to be found
on his person. Picture her placing her
husband, his-feet to the pit, his head to her
knees. See she gives him a strong push
that sends his feet over the edge, and in
stantly the body disappears with such a
jerk as nearly to throw her forward on the
ground, but with straining muscles she
holds firmly on, her shape bent back, and.
resisting in every fiber the dead weight that
seeks to drag her down, down to the place
to which she has condemned him! Now the
head is over has vanished. Bit by bit she
lets out the cords that are twisted round
and round her hands. Presently they grow
slack. A dull tremble runs through them.
The body has reached the ground. She
casts the cord in after him, drops the trap
door, and all is over.
So far she has acted with extraordinary
promptitude and skill, ably seconded by
great physical strength. She is even able
to greet Albert Dawers as if nothing had
happened,and to wash the cup out of which
the dead man drank; but in the morning she
breaks down, and attracts suspicion to her
self in a way little short ot madness. At
breakfast she sets aside food as if for a
visitor; she returns to the house after they
have both presumably left it forever; she
lifts the trap-door, and leaves it open, and
from a hook inside suspends a long piece of
cord, by which a person might easily de
scend to the vault below, or ascend from it
to the room above. By the trap-door she
places the plate of broken food, and having
thus drawn attention to what might never
have brea suspected but for the indications,
she rejoins her husband, every soon after
committing another and even worse act of
stupidity, since it is witnessed to by
one who grasps the full significance of the
incident, and who, in following up
the clue then given, brings all
the facts some to the woman at last. This
gentleman, on reading of the murder,' went
straight to Hoosac The town authorities
had thought that the man might have got
in after the tuo left, and had chosen for his
own reasons to conceal himself below; but
the medical evidence proved that he had
been dead at least three days, and the key
was found by the landlord in the place
agreed upon, while every window was
securely bolted from within. But suspicion
was not certainty, and this prisoner would
have reached the tar West unmolested had
not the stranger who traveled with them
produced the arsenic box. and given his
evidence at the inquiry then being held.
The result yon know. The woman was
brought back immediately, and committed
to prison to await her trial. One eannot
sufficiently admire the sagacity and acumen
of this amateur detective, who would put to
shame a professional expert. We will place
him on the stand as our principal witness.
rv.
THE WOMAN'3 DOTEHSE.
On the ensuing day the case against Moa
Barrios was completed in a single forenoon
session of the court. All the points for con
viction were made as promised in the Dis
trict Attorney's opening address. I was'
placed on the stand and made to testify to
what I had observed in the car. I no longer
felt proud of my work, hut as a mean fellow
who had deliberately hounded down a pos
sibly innocent woman. But for my evi
dence about the poisoa seen in her posses
sion, and that of her husband about the rope
and the food, sne would sot have been sus
pected. Why had I put the slumbering au
thorities on her track ? She had done me
no harm; nor, surely, should I hare done
any in leaving a hunted soul one chance of
salvation and a life or love with the man
who honored her, for the mainspring ot his
happy existence was now as surely broken
as hers. For one piece of reticence I con
gratulated myself. I had made no mention
of the meeting between Moa and Mercer at
the Snow Hole, and it was not developed in
the evidence that they had ever met after
their separation in New York until his
fatal visit to her home on the mountain.
The court took a recess, and after It the pro
ceedings were resumed with- an address by the
lawyer employed to defend tbe prisoner. He
spoke at considerable length ot her previously
good reputation, and I lelt convinced by his
emphasis upon that point that he bad nothing
substantial upon which to rely for an acquittal.
He vehemently declared that bis client was
innocent, but sis utterance did not seem sin
cere, and the case of Moa. Barrios was at that
time hopeless. Hu nrst witness was the wo
man herself, and after she bad answered some
preliminary-questions without revealing any
thing that the reader does not already know,
she was directed to give an account of her con
nection with the death of Henry Mercer.
"He did come to me late that afternoon, as
has been testified to," she said, speaking with
dogged calmness. "I asked how he dared to,
nmi what he wanted. He said that he loved
me that he had always loved me, and always.
should. He was my susoana in inesigutoi
heaven, and I must be bis wife I wouldn't let
him touch me I told him be mustn't even talk
tome anv more. That I loved my real and true
husband." and was just .going to go to a distant
part of the country, so as to be far away from
the places that had sad reminders for Albert
Then he got excited. He blamed me. He said
I had done an Injury to him as great as he had
done to me. and we both ought to forgive and
forget" . . .
"What did be refer to 7" the Judge asked.
"He meant that I had destroyed some papers
belonging to him,." was the reply. "He gave
them to me for safekeeping, when we
were living together In rtew York,
and when we parted I brought them
away. This loss was bis ruination so he said
and that was as bad as bis deception of me So
Moa on Trial for Mercefs Murder
he argued that one wrong ought to offset the
other, and we could be happy together U I
would desert Albert"
"What was tha nature of the papersT" tho
Jodee Inquired. -
"I don't rightly know," sbe answered. "He
was mixed up In a defalcation I never under
stood precisely how. I think one ot the docu
ments was a confession. I'm sure be ones told
me be was guilty of wrong doing lo the matter,
but that the worst charge was false, and that
he couldn't clear himself of the one without
convicting himself of the other; so the time
hadn't come to use the documents, and, as he
didn't dare to keep them, be trotted them to
me"
"And you destroyed themf
"Yes, sir."
"Burned themt"
"No. sir: I threw them -away."
If His Honor bad persisted bo might have
forced ber to tell of the encounter at the Hnow
Hole, and of her suicidal and mnrderons ad
venture there bat she eicaped further inquisi
tion on the point
'In one of the papers," she lesumea, with
a shrewd intention of making It clear that the.
was. la her present predicament, a loser by their
destruction, "was bis declaration that be was a
habitual user of arsenic I knew that myself,
from having seen blia take it He took. It ro
Qlcinally, bat in dose tbatbad grown larger and
larger: and be always carried a box of it in hi
pocket. It was his box that I dropped in the
car, ana that was found afterward where I
throw it When I told him, over and over, that
1 "hated him mat I despised him
that t vou!d not desert Albert to
go away with him then be brought ont the box
from Sis poeket ana vowed he would take
enoaeci of K to kill kimself; He did swallow a
MgdsML tfc-weM have paisoaed aajBy
fttt
F5
lent to harm him. But I snatched, the 'box
way from him."
"Do yoa believe be meant to commit sol
cider' "Idfd then. A woman fs ready to credit any
recklessness to a man whose love sbe repulses.
Anyhow I kept the box away from him. and I
suppose I pitied him. But I loathed him, and
told him he must instantly go away, as I ex
pected Albert 'If you will clear out,' I said.
ill promise not to tell that you Save been
here.' That wasn't altogether out of pity for
Jjm, but because any reminder of myconnectlon
with nim always made Albert unhappy, and so
Iwould have been glad to keep his visit a secret
Well, I expected Albert home to supper, and,
looking out of the window, I saw him coming.
He would be two or three minutes before ho
could get to the house, but there was no way
for Mr. Mercer to escape without his seeing
blm. I was half distracted, and I think Mr.
Mercerwaa frightened at the idea of being
caught with me. I thought of the buttery as a
place to hide him in. There wasn't any time to
lose, it occurred to me that as toe deep hole
was a bad place to stay in, and as he might be
compelled to remain there some time, be mights
be tempted to reveal himself. There was lauda
num in my cupboard. I had used it for tooth-i "
ache. Some whisky was there, too, and I
poured out a glass of it dropping in a safe
close of the laudanum. "Drink this to keep you
warm," I said, "and I will hide you in the cel
lar until after supper, as soos after that as
possible I will let you out" I meant
the laudanum to put him asleep
down there, so there wouldn't be any
danger of his making a noise. 1 wanted to
save my husband from any unfounded jealousy .
or sorrow on my account Mr. Mercer did aaii'
bade him. I lowered him into the bole be was
alive not dead; and It was no more tbJT1 dons
before Albert entered the room. We had our
supper, and went to bed early. As soon aa
Albert was sound asleep I slipped away from
blm, opened the trapdoor and called toHr.
Mercer. He did not' answer. I made up my
mindhawasslecping. Uef ore daylight I called
again to him, but didn't get any response. The
Inside fastening of the doors and windows
showed that be had not climbed up and gone
away in the night I was a little alarmed, bus .'
could not do anything to find out the truth .
whicl was, 1 am sure, that he bad ."
died of the arsenic, bomething in bis
condition bad made a doso fatal that
be could not havo stood any other time. Well.,
Albert and I ate our breakfast and made ready
to leave the house. Still there was so sound
from the well. I was glad to get away without
seeing Mr. Mercer again. Bat I didn't wish
him to die down there. So I left the rope for
him to climb up by, and the food for him to eat
just as has been testified to. That Is the
truth, your Honor." Sbe seemed to see in
credulity in his face, and she solemnly re
peated: That Is the truth, so help meGodr
The court adjourned until the next day, and
Moa was taken back to her cell, with nobody
except Albert Dawers and I believing ber ac
count of the death of Henry Mercer.
Bitterly did I regret the part I had taken
against her. and distractedly did I try to devise
means of corroborating her testimony. Clearly
nothing except the documents lost in the Snow
Hole would serve the purpose. An effort no
matter how hopeless, must be made to recover
them. That ereningAlbert Dawers and I made
the trip by rail from the countytown to Hoosac.
and at midnight we were alone at the mouth of
tbe cave, we bad a rope and a lantern. It
might read like an exploitation of myself if I -should
describe my descent Suffice it that it
was made without accident The sturdy Al
bert held the rope.one end of which was firmly'
fastened around my waist and, with tbe lighted f,
lantern In my hand. I slipped cautiously1
down a steep incline of ice lor ",.
distance of fully 200 feet Then I came to
level place, floored by clear, clean ice, and em--"
bedded deeply therein I dimly saw the bunch
of papers. They were carefully dug ont before
trustworthy witnesses early next morning.
They proved Mercer's habitual use of arsenic,
they supported Moa's testimony in the other
particulars, and they brought about ber
acquittal.
Ho, II the legend oi ae w ucn jrnncess naa
led Moa Barrios into a sorrowful experience,
and into a revenge! al attempt to duplicate its
tragedy, it had also saved ber from the hang
man, and left her to finish her life in repentant
peace and happiness.
THE etd.
"copyrighted, 1889. AH rights reserved,
A CALCULATING MAN.
PIn- HI Knovredge of Mathematics tstj
Teat His Ufungf Power,
rwn Tnilncer in Globe-Democrat
Civil engineers are mostly commonplacaI
people. Dub au uuu bua uvuiwuaj tuiua '
nn amnncr triem. One of the oddest X ever
met llxca here in St. Xouis. He is an old
man, thoroughly cdncatedxn his Dunneas
aad a paragon of exactness, eren for a
MatTiomntiriign. "Witt maivT months ft?o Kb
was called to Eat St. ouis to make anew,:
nwernf ftnorn lineL onTiflaiiT nmDTJ
tu J w m mimM
Slmselt UO ine nrsi survey aa usu unrcaj
a certain corner stake deep in tie ground and
covered it up with a large stone. "When-ha
caxaoe; wa k"" fc fcu- - ;
the soil away from 'around the stone, and
then cleaned it off nicely with some dry;
lAas Inn nnrt ItflM.
Next he took out bis rule and made care-j
inl measurements of tne stone, wnicn ssj;
culation to determine its weight "When Hal
saw tne proauct nis iace iikuku up wim
joy, for the number of pounds, ounces aridl
drama represented therein was within ttefl
the limit of his lifting power. He made nol
attempt to lift the stone as a means of JettA
mathematical knowledge to settle that point!
lor mm. mis is sue oujr case a '"i
ot where a man demonstrated bis own lifw
ing power by tse use ox anmmeuc.
1 GQLNG TO SHE A HAS.
It Was HsBssa's Choice, for Only t'
Brakesiaa Was Visible.
Ban xTancucu giuuiuws.j f
It was mid-week ia the country There!
were half a dozen girls whose brothers and'
aweet hearts were all toiling ialhe aty and'
could not get to the watering place till
n j. rrhaM mi tint BtTCtaalv nni9ii9 in
sight, and hadn't been for two days;" They
wereaUsittinffgloomllyonUie Tersmdatof
he hotel. if
"Girls, I ean't stand this any ot,
clalmed one. S
"Let's go down to tie station." '"5S"
"What for? It Isn't train time. ?Tve
been making inquiries. There's affreight
train coming in ten minutes." ''
"What's the good of a freight 'train?
"Why we can go down and see the brake
man go by."
And they trooped oflj running like mad
that they might sot miss him.
Diamond! oa Her Pan
Boston Eerald.1
Blessings on Mrs. Kendall She has
.shown women one more wayto display their
diamonds. Sticking extra diamond pins in
the lace mount of milady's fan is a happy
thought, for which our overburdened social
diamond mines ought to be eternally grate
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Abselau.r Impossible.
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