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PEREGRINE PAPERS
By Rev. W. H. T. Squires, D. D.
I.
Romeo and Juliet.
AMONG THE AZORES.
The Next Day We Float e?l in a Veritable Paradise.
I had noticed her on deck, from time to time,
as we tossed over the weltering waves of the
wide Atlantic. She was a queenly matron of
those calmer days which follow the ardent
years of youth. The beautiful girl who trav
eled with her must be her daughter, I thought.
Alas, how near the truth my guess, and how
far!
Not until the afternoon of the last day she
was aboard did I speak with her. The Azores
began to unfold from the mists on our eastern
horizon. I thought the whitish banks above
the violet sea masses of deceptive clouds, hang
ing low. She volunteered the opinion, in th.?
enthusiasm of the moment, that it was land
and a glad sight, too, for sea-wearied eyes. Ami
she was right. IIow did she know? Why ire
women always right, provokingly right, when
they argue with men?
The young lady went into raptures over
Mount Pica. And she had reason. All of us
joined in her superlatives.
"The magnificent mountain is 7.613 feet
high," I volunteered.
"Men do know something, after all," she
said with a bewitching smile. "Now how did
you know that?"
"Oh, Baedeker the Blessed told me. lie is
my bosom companion," I replied. "But I will
make one original remark. Pica, a perfect
cone, sweeping toward heaven with symmetri
cally graceful curves, looks like the pictures
of Fujiyama, the sacred mountain of Japan ?
though only about half as high."
Conversation died, for the barren, rocky
slopes of the mountain took on all the hues of
a maple leaf bitten by the keen frosts of a
Canadian autumn. From deep, royal purple,
where the white waves lashed the naked rocks
at its base, through all shades and tints of
violet and crimson to a crown of pure gold,
shining against the deep blue of the sky, Pica
was touched with heavenly glory by the low,
descending sun. Ah. all the tedium and toss
ing of a weary week was lost to memory be
fore the sunset glory of Mount Pica !
"I am so glad to reach Horta," said the
lady. "My son Guy is vice-consul there, lie
does not know we are coming. Tomorrow is
his birthday. He will be twenty-four. Is not
this an adventure for an old woman like me?
We will walk, unannounced, iuto his otiice to
morrow morning and ask for an interview !"
She laughed a low, musical laugh.
"Your speech betraveth you," 1 answered.
'"The way you pronunce ' Guy ' convinces me
that you are a Virginia."
"Well, what if I am? I am not ashamed
of it. I hope. 1 am from Richmond." The
indescribable accent with which she said " Rich
mond" amused me. It was so familiar.
"It seems to me that I once heard of Rich
mond." I replied. "It is a small, inland town
about UK) miles west of Norfolk, is it not*
Ami the young lady is your daughter. Guy
will welcome his lovely sister, no doubt ? so
will all the gay, young blades of Horta, I'll
wager."
"She is not my (laughter ? yet." There was
an unmistakable significance in the adverb.
"A romance! A Virginian romance culmi
nating joyously und^r the amethystine shad
ows of Pica!" I cried with delight.
"Yes, they have been sweethearts since they
attended John Marshall together."
"Attended .John Marshall ?"1 asked in sur
prise, "Why the great jurist has been in his
grave a century, and the girl doesn't look a
day over twenty."
"You are stupid," she retorted with spirit,
"or you think I am. I refer to the Richmond
High School, and you know it."
Our vessel was surrounded now by a multi
tude of row boats and launches of all sizes
and descriptions. The energetic Portuguese
were shouting to those upon dnck to come
down and be rowed ashore. As soon as pos
sible I offered myself, a willing victim, and
was soon upon the streets of the quaint, little
town.
Even in the darkn?ss one could feel the for
eign influence. Tiny kerosene lamps at the
street corners seemed to make the darkness
denser. The streets are but lanes, roughly
paved with cobblestones. Stuccoed houses
stand stiffly against the narrow sidewalks. The
men wear jaunty Spanish costumes; the wo
men great, black cloaks, with immense hoods
supported over their heads. They look like
huge question-marks.
Soldiers are everywhere. The Portuguese
republic is young, and in a precarious condi
tion.
Three gentlemen left their wine in answer
to my question addressed them first in Eng
lish, then in French. The post-office was just
ahead on the same street, impossible to miss it.
Two squares further along I saw Juliet, an
adorable type of Portuguese beauty. She stood
on a balcony, a dream of loveliness in silk and
lace, the light streaming over her shoulders
from the wide French windows. Romeo stood
in the street below. He was so handsome 1
did not blame Juliet. And she was so lovely,
I could but envy Romeo. His suit was cut in
the most approved American fashion.
Her father was sitting in the parlor, read
ing the news,' all unconscious of the detail he
made in the interesting scene. The lovers talked
in whispers, for the gallery was just above
Romeo's head.
They saw my interest, and Romeo stepped
back into the deeper shadow of the wall. I
had not the heart to interrupt so fair a ro
mance, so I waved a blessing to them and
passed on, letter in hand.
When I returned, a few minutes later, I
watched for the house. Romeo had a ladder
against the wall. Juliet descended and, with
the ladder under one arm and the girl under
the other, he retreated hastily into the dark
ness of a side street.
Gladly would I have tarried in the quaint,
little town, but I feared our ship might leave,
so I returned to the waiting pirates and was
soon on deck again. Our ship gave a long,
wierd whistle that sounded like a groan of
agony. As she hoisted her anchors a steam
launch thrust its nose under her bulkheads.
The stairs were lowered, and a girl and man
climbed aboard. Bless my heart, it was Ro
meo and .Juliet. They hurried to their state
room, we cleared the harbor, and stood to
ward Porta del Qarda, the metropolis of the
Azores, a day's journey eastward.
N '\t day we floated in a veritable fairyland;
schools of whales sent up fountains of salt
spray, sharks could be seen at rare intervals,
and poi poses all the time. The islands are a
paradise for birds of varied and gorgeous
plumage. For miles the farms, orchards and
villages, the mountains and valleys were al
ways in view.
But, as interesting as was this panorama of
land and sea, I could not keep my thoughts
nor my eyes from Romeo and Juliet. They
were so happy,- so radiantly oblivious of all
the world besides!
As we swung around a sharp promentorv
and approached Porta del Garda I had my
only opportunity. Romeo was alone, for a
moment. He leaned over the rail smoking a
cigarette.
"It is beautiful," I observed (as a fisher
man easts a fly). I wondered whether he
could speak English.
"Very," he replied.
"I thought perhaps you were Portuguese,
though you look like an American."
"I am an American," laconically.
"You are a man of good taste. May I of
fer my congratulations. You put it over well.
I wonder if Dad is still reading the news?"
He started, frowned, then decided to make
the best of it, and smiled.
"You seem a right wise guy!"
I started in my turn and looked at him nar
rowly.
"You are a Virginian."
"What business is that of yours?"
"It is none of my business. I never inter
fere with the affairs of other people. I have
no desire to intrude upon yours, but I know
something that I think you ought to know."
"I never laid eyes on you before in my life,"
he retorted, "and I cannot imagine how you
could know anything of my private affairs."
"Oh, yes you have laid eyes on me. I waved
to you last night while your bride hung over
the balcony."
"Was that really you? I had forgotten the
incident."
"This is your birthday. You are twenty
four today."
"You are a wizard."
"Not at all. You are from Richmond. You
were educated at the John Marshall High
School. Nor were you the only person educa
ted there. The school is co-educational. There
were many pretty girls ? one in particular, to
whom you were engaged when you became
vice-consul at Ilorta. Your name is Guy."
His astonishment was obvious. His cheek
flushed. He said not a word, but smoked hard.