The kingdom of the 'White woman' a sketch . t thatlot yonder—thirty or more—^just in fromsome mine in the distant mountains, fiftymiles away. Are they human ? All downin the dirt of the road together, like somany swine, most of them asleep. Theywill be driven back shortly, only to comeagain with ore for those who alreadyhave millions. How different from thehardy, healthy faces we meet with amongstour mining population, where clear eyes andcheerful voices greet us so pleasantly. Andyet we as a nation are, in the estimation ofthese poor wretches, heretics, and there-fore damned; whilst they have
The kingdom of the 'White woman' a sketch . t thatlot yonder—thirty or more—^just in fromsome mine in the distant mountains, fiftymiles away. Are they human ? All downin the dirt of the road together, like somany swine, most of them asleep. Theywill be driven back shortly, only to comeagain with ore for those who alreadyhave millions. How different from thehardy, healthy faces we meet with amongstour mining population, where clear eyes andcheerful voices greet us so pleasantly. Andyet we as a nation are, in the estimation ofthese poor wretches, heretics, and there-fore damned; whilst they have lived forcenturies under the benign and enlighten-ing influences of Holy Church! If Ihave spoken too strongly about that same Holy Church, it is for the very reason 188 The Kingdom of the that I know how grand she can be andcould have been ; so I find less excuse forher, in that by her Intoleration of all othersects, and by her inquisition, she has keptpoor Mexico and many other lands and peo-ples so long in the blackness of midnight!. White Woman. CHAPTER XLII. ONE bright, sunny day in old Spain,I passed in rambling with my guide,one Leonard by name—if you go to Ma-drid, ask for him—over the ancient cityof Avila; it stands on the barren plainsof the province of that name to the northof the capital, and is a perfect specimenof a feudal city. Great walls, broken inmany places by high towers, encircle thenarrow, shady streets, where I paused, everand anon, to gaze up at some richlycarved portal—telling of the grandeur, nowlong since passed away—or stood in theshadow of some doorway as a procession,in the still unforgotten glory of the middleages, wound its way from the great I go The Kingdom of the cathedral to some church or shrine be-yond the walls. There were crosses ofgold held high in air, which caught thegleam of the sun and flashed bright spotsof light over the dark walls of the oldpalaces. Black-robed priests and white-robed acolytes, bearing painted bannersa
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