I am writing this at length, because it is the first of hundreds that should follow throughout the island, and a type of what we shall endeavor to accomplish.
It will naturally be asked if we expect the Spanish authorities to permit us to do this. Judging from to-day, we have reason to expect every co-operation. The commandant of the town was one of the men who welcomed us; and so far as they had the materials desired, offered them for our use; it was very well, as there were some we could get in no other way.
The crowd that followed us was bewildering—the little children in pitiful proportions. We had prepared ourselves for this by a large invoice of five-cent scrip. An intimation of our desire to the priest arranged the matter quickly. All under, perhaps, six to seven years old, were sent into the church to come out at a side door, with Mr. Elwell and myself on each side as doorkeepers. Every pale passing hand took its scrip, and the gladness that beamed in their little wan faces was good for angels’ eyes. They rushed into the street, romping and tumbling like actual live children, which they had no longer seemed to be.
There was but one more feature to mark this memorable day. After leaving the hospital we were told that a deputation of ladies desired to call on us. We were in the house of a naturalized American citizen, and prepared to receive them. They entered slowly and reverently, the leader bearing a deep plate of choice flowers. As she handed them to me, I perceived in the center a large envelope with a half-inch border of black, and a black ribbon with a tied bow encircling it. The envelope was addressed to me. The first sentence, with tender, trembling voice, told the purport of it all: “For the dead of the Maine.”
The crowd, full of hope and blessing, followed us to the train, and as we passed on, gentle, tender-eyed women came down the banks from their cottages with little baskets of flowers to be passed into the carriage—and ever the black-bordered tribute:
“To the dead of the Maine.”
It was long after dark when we reached our new home, and we were weary enough to find it welcome; but glad of our day’s work, as a type of many more which we confidently expect will follow.
In our banking operations I learned the full address of our excellent hostess, which she had been too modest to name to me:
“Senora Serafina Moliner de Jorrin.”
Titles: “Eccelentisima.” “Ilustrisima.”
We have always had occasion to feel those titles to be well deserved.