town of the grape vines except, as we say,
"with the breath of crying," but of these enough. All the low sills run
over with small heads. Ah, ah! There is a kind of pride in that if you
did but know it, to have your baby every year or so as the time sets,
and keep a full breast. So great a blessing as marriage is easily come
by. It is told of Ruy Garcia that when he went for his marriage license
he lacked a dollar of the clerk's fee, but borrowed it of the sheriff,
who expected reelection and exhibited thereby a commendable thrift.
Of what account is it to lack meal or meat when you may have it of any
neighbor? Besides, there is sometimes a point of honor in these things.
Jesus Romero, father of ten, had a job sacking ore in the Marionette
which he gave up of his own accord. "Eh, why?" said Jesus, "for my
fam'ly."

"It is so, senora," he said solemnly, "I go to the Marionette, I work,
I eat meat--pie--frijoles--good, ver' good. I come home sad'day nigh'
I see my fam'ly. I play lil' game poker with the boys, have lil' drink
wine, my money all gone. My fam'ly have no money, nothing eat. All time
I work at mine I eat, good, ver' good grub. I think sorry for my fam'ly.
No, no, senora, I no work no more that Marionette, I stay with my
fam'ly." The wonder of it is, I think, that the family had the same
point of view.

Every house in the town of the vines has its garden plot, corn and brown
beans and a row of peppers reddening in the sun; and in damp borders
of the irrigating ditches clumps of yerbasanta, horehound, catnip, and
spikenard, wholesome herbs and curative, but if no peppers then nothing
at all. You will have for a holiday dinner, in Las Uvas, soup with meat
balls and chile in it, chicken with chile, rice with chile, fried beans
with more chile, enchilada, which is corn cake with the sauce of chile
and tomatoes, onion, grated cheese, and olives, and for a relish
chile tepines passed about in a dish, all of which is comfortable and
corrective to the stomach. You will have wine which every man makes for
himself, of good body and inimitable bouquet, and sweets that are not
nearly so nice as they look.

There are two occasions when you may count on that kind of a meal;
always on the Sixteenth of September, and on the two-yearly visits of
Father Shannon. It is absurd, of course, that El Pueblo de Las Uvas
should have an Irish priest, but Black Rock, Minton, Jimville, and all
that country round do not find it so. Fathe