THE LITTLE TOWN OF THE GRAPE VINES 



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. Father 

 Shannon visits them all, waits by the Red 

 Butte to confess the shepherds who go 

 through with their flocks, carries blessing 

 to small and isolated mines, and so in the 

 course of a year or so works around to 

 Las Uvas to bury and marry and christen. 

 Then all the little graves in the Campo 

 Santo are brave with tapers, the brown pine 

 headboards blossom like Aaron's rod with 

 paper roses and bright cheap prints of 

 Our Lady of Sorrows. Then the Senora 

 Sevadra, who thinks herself elect of heaven 

 for that office, gathers up the original sin- 

 ners, the little Elijias, Lolas, Manuelitas, 

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