JUNE 21.
They went to a one-room adobe on the plaza. A rich, greasy odor came out from it with puffs of the onion-laden smoke of frying things which blurred the light of the one candle set in the neck of a bottle. ∗ ∗ ∗ In the centre of the floor a circle of blackened stones held a fire of wood coals, on the top of which rested a big clay griddle. Cakes of ground corn were frying there, and on the stove were enchiladas and tamales and chili-con-carne being kept warm. The air was thick with the pungent, strong smells.
GWENDOLEN OVERTON,
in The Golden Chain.
JUNE 22.
The homely house furnishings seemed to leap out of the darkness; the stove, the littered table, and the couch, the iron crucifix, and the carved cradle in the corner—all his long life Juan will see them so—and 'Cencion turned; the dusky veil was blown and rent like the sea mist, revealing—Holy Mother of Heaven! her father, Cenaga, the outlaw! Juan Lopez fell on his knees below the window, the smoking rifle clattered from his broken grasp, and the missile sped, aimless and harmless, high into the adobe wall.
GERTRUDE B. MILLARD,
in An Outlaw's Daughter, S.F. Argonaut, Nov., 1896.
IN HUMBOLDT.