THE LITTLE TOWN OF THE GRAPE VINES 



Joses, and Felipes, by dint of adjurations 

 and sweets smuggled into small perspiring 

 palms, to fit them for the Sacrament. 



I used to peek in at them, never so softly, 

 in Dona Ina's living-room ; Raphael-eyed 

 little imps, going sidewise on their knees 

 to rest them from the bare floor, candles 

 lit on the mantel to give a religious air, 

 and a great sheaf of wild bloom before the 

 Holy Family. Come Sunday they set out 

 the altar in the schoolhouse, with the fine- 

 drawn altar cloths, the beaten silver candle- 

 sticks, and the wax images, chief glory of 

 Las Uvas, brought up mule-back from Old 

 Mexico forty years ago. All in white the 

 communicants go up two and two in a 

 hushed, sweet awe to take the body of their 

 Lord, and Tomaso, who is priest's boy, tries 

 not to look unduly puffed up by his office. 

 After that you have dinner and a bottle of 

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