NORTH SHORE BREEZE 
13 
that were fresh with paint and mor- 
tor when these places were almost 
forgotten history. For illustration, 
the oldest house in the United 
States, described in a previous let- 
ter, is crumbling away here under 
a New Mexican sun, while so-called 
Americans, who lve within 300 
yards of it, hardly know it is there, 
and if so, simply as a magnet to at- 
tract tourists to. 
Its little bit of a sign says it was 
builded in the year 1500 (I think I 
am in error in the date of a previous 
letter). Perhaps the Indian chief 
threw up its walls, then, or per- 
haps he didn’t do it until a hundred 
years later, but regardless of a cen- 
tury its are the oldest walls in the 
onee wild west, three or four*hun- 
dred years old, and worthy of pres- 
ervation by men who have blue Am- 
erican blood in their veins. 
This morning I visited it for the 
fourth time—in the early morning 
sunshine. And I saw: The door 
opened and a Mexican or Indian 
came out. He went around to the 
end of this house, where time and 
the elements have washed away 
what was once a fire place chimney 
builded by the hand of Coronado in 
1580, split a few sticks of cedar on 
the ruins of the chimney and carried 
them inside. Through the open door 
I could see a skillet over the fire. 
The native placed the sticks on and 
closed the door. And he shut out— 
shut out the smoke and odor of fried 
ealf’s liver from my historic morn- 
ing dreams of 1500. It seemed to 
me I -must open the door and fire 
this dirty mongrel into the street 
and over the old worm-eaten door 
frame place a brass tablet of govern- 
ment protection. q 
And they tell me that any time 
this native should decide to destroy 
these old walls there are none and 
no authority to stop him. 
Ignatius Donnelly, in one of his 
books tells us that this, the Great 
American Desert and its edges, were 
hit by a comet. If you would come 
out here and prowl over the strange 
country and its volcanic formations 
_ you would believe it—or anything 
anybody had amind to tell you. 
There is something so strange and 
unreal to it that you jump to any 
fairy tale. Certainly something hit 
it sometime, or heaved it up. There 
are acres of ash heaps—cinders that 
you ean’t find the bottom of. 
Whether a comet cleaned its grates 
here, or whether centuries ago some 
hidden force pushed the stuff up. for 
me to guess at, I don’t know, but I do 
know there is a strangeness in it all, 
a mysterious something that spreads 
out on these acres and left puny man 
to guess at how, when and from 
where they came. 
- Superstition, it is a rod thick in 
every inch of this northern New 
Mexico, and there are hundreds of 
bright looking men (Mexican and 
Indian) who believe just as truly 
that there are witches in these hills 
as they do that New Mexico will 
get statehood at this session. In 
every hamlet some old codger will 
tell you how he, or some member of 
his family, has been bewitched, and 
he believes it, just-as much as you 
believe he is nursing a_ nervous 
dream. When one of the mountain 
or plains Mexicans see a strange cat 
or dog about his home at night, he 
has a horror and dread of impending 
danger that is pitiful in its super- 
stition and ignoranee. And _ this 
man, who has proved all of a white 
man’s courage in bloody Indian wars 
of this ecountry—well, the only way 
I ean explain it is to think back, 
not so very long ago to Salem, Mass., 
when no doubt my ancestor was one 
of the judges who pronounced death 
to some witch. This is a very old 
and a very new country. 
Twenty years ago, right in the 
locality from which I am writing 
this letter, the Penitent Brothers— 
crucified a brother each and every 
year. They were Mexicans, a rem- 
nant of the orders of the Middle 
Ages, and it was their custom or re- 
ligion, during the 40 days of Lent, 
to inflict self-tortures that would 
shame the Indian Sioux sun tortures, 
to literally erucify one of the num- 
ber, a living man or woman belong- 
ing to their sect. Other tortures 
were to wind their legs so tightly as 
to stop circulation, bear crosses, and 
to march in bare feet, until they fell 
exhausted, over the glass like forma- 
tions of these hillls. 
If you can’t believe this, look up 
the history of New Mexico and Ari- 
zona, or (once more) think back 
to Salem. As late as 1891 are au- 
thentie accounts of crucifications in 
this strange corner of our big U. S., 
at San Mateo, and I am told that 
there were still later horrors of this 
kind, in remote places, at much lat- 
er dates. 
Had you better go over to Pom- 
peii, or come out here and dig up a 
more interesting history . 
I have more for you—thousands 
of years older, and yet more strange. 
Santa Fe, N. M., March 14, 1910. 
JUST LOOK 
Over your different forms of printed matter for. those 
nearly out. 
Let us have your order for those you must have. 
Don’t wait until the last one is used. We do work in a hurry, 
of course, when necessary, and deliver the job when promised, 
but would rather have you give us a few days; then work can 
be done more economically. 
Any new work you may havé in view—a booklet, mailing 
card, circular, etc., we should like to do for you, or give estimates 
Telephone 137 
The Breeze Print 
Manchester, Mass. 
