ON ST. ANTONIO'S DAY
"--in my soul is naught but gayety."
--_Antonio Ferreira._
FOR the first time in all his life, Jose was to see Guimarães, the old
city where Portugal's hero king, Affonso Henriquez, was born in 1109,
the great warrior who made of Portugal a united country.
On the morning of St. Antonio's day, the thirteenth of June, the family
was up early to eat with Antonio and Jose the holiday breakfast of
_estofado_--stewed meat and vegetables. At six o'clock they gathered on
the wide stone doorstep to see the brothers start. Carlos lay at the
edge of the step, his nose upon his paws, waiting, both eyes fixed upon
Jose. The dog knew that some unusual journey was planned; he was all
ready to go, too.
But Carlos could not go. This was Jose's only regret at starting. "He
would be frightened and perhaps lost in the city," Antonio said. So the
dog was held back by Joanna, and he decided, in his dog way, that Jose
must be going off to school again. The parrot's cries of _Accolade!
Accolade!_ followed the brothers until they were beyond reach of the
sound.
It was a glorious June morning. Although so early, the sun was even
now high in the blue heavens. The air was fragrant with sweet flower
perfumes. Many small brown and yellow butterflies fluttered along
the roadside. Large gray sand-lizards ran out from the underbrush.
Meadow-larks and blackbirds sang in every tree-top.
All beyond the village market-place was new to Jose. The road grew
constantly better. Soon above the pine forests appeared the granite
peak of Penha. On the approach to Guimarães, the ground rises and pine
forests spread around the city for miles. In that wild country, Affonso
Henriquez first learned the art of war, and in his very boyhood became
the trusted leader of his troops.
As the brothers drew nearer, they saw the gentle hill on which stand
the walls of the old castle, still keeping watch over the city which
lies beneath. It is impossible to imagine a ruin more stately than
that of this grand old castle of the Middle Ages, the first Christian
fortress in Portugal,--a castle-fortress which tells the story of the
strong spirit of the race of men who built it. The huge granite blocks,
each taller than a man, which form the battlements, still stand erect
and immovable.
On the road, as the brothers drew yet nearer, were many other
travellers, like themselves bound for the city. It was market-day as
well as the holiday of St. Antonio. There were men and women, boys and
girls, in gala-day costume. Sometimes the women and girls were driving
donkeys, pannier-laden. But oftenest, these women-folk had baskets,
heavily filled, upon their heads; in Portugal women carry everything in
baskets, from babies to bales of goods. There were herdsmen on the way,
driving flocks of goats. Groups of children walked soberly along with
their parents. Now and then a beggar asked Antonio for a bit of money;
but Portugal has few beggars compared with its neighboring country,
Spain.
The crowd of holiday-makers grew. Jose climbed into the ox-cart,
because he could see more and because the long walk and the unusual
excitement were making him feel rather tired. Most of the travellers
passed on ahead, for the oxen, pulling their load up-hill, made slow
progress. But Jose did not mind this. The music of a brass band was
coming to his ears. He had to ask Antonio what it was; he had never
before heard a band.
Guimarães is a delightful old city. Even people who have travelled much
more than Jose think so. It is full of picturesque buildings. There are
many houses with balconies and windows of fine wood-carving. Several
of the streets are hardly more than narrow alleys, and the eaves of
the houses all but meet overhead. Some of the wider streets end in
wonderful views of the hills, seen across fields brilliant green with
rye and clover. And there is a beautiful old granite cathedral church.
Jose had never seen anything so marvellous as this building. In its
graceful granite belfry tower the peal of eight bells was ringing
out the hour of ten as the oxen moved slowly past, along the crowded
street. But Jose hardly noticed the people: he was looking up, full of
eager curiosity, at the strange heads and faces, half like men, half
like animals,--the gargoyles carved on church and tower.
"Take me to see the cars and the railroad first of all, please,
Antonio," had been Jose's request, made over and over again that
morning on the way.
So, to please the little brother, Antonio drove the oxen directly to
the railway station. By good fortune they were just in time to see the
arrival of a long passenger train. Jose was almost terrified by the
rushing in of the tall black engine with its smoke and noise. The cars,
with their seats and windows and curtains, seemed to him like strange
little homes.
Many a traveller turned to gaze with interest at the earnest-faced,
black-eyed boy and the handsome, strong-looking brother, with the fresh
color of the country upon their faces.
A little girl dressed in white stepped from the cars, holding fast to
her mother's hand. "See, Antonio," Jose cried out in a voice so loud
that everyone around heard: "See, she looks just like Tareja's doll!"
As the mother and little girl passed, they smiled with friendly blue
eyes at the brothers.
After the passenger train moved out of the station, a puffing freight
engine went back and forth, shifting and changing about many long,
box-like looking freight cars. Presently the cars were all in place,
and the puffy engine pulled them slowly away.
Jose would have stayed all day at the station, waiting for other trains
to come and go. His eyes were not yet satisfied. But Antonio had many
other things to do. When they finally turned away, Jose looked back
as long as the station remained in sight. He soon, however, grew
interested in seeing other sights.
To Antonio, Guimarães seemed very old-fashioned and slow, compared
with the busy American cities of the same size which he had seen. But
to Jose everything was new and wonderful,--so many people, such tall
buildings, such beautiful things in the shop windows, so much noise.
Everywhere on the corners of the quaint, crowded streets groups of men
were talking about the new government, and curious small boys were
listening at the edges of the crowds. Jose wanted to stop long enough
to hear what was being said; but Antonio urged the oxen on toward the
mill. Processions of young men marched through the streets to the music
of flutes, pipes, and drums. On many a street the statue figure of
St. Antonio, in a shrine, was decorated with flowers and garlands of
leaves. Around bonfires in the city square young people were dancing.
When they reached the mill, Antonio fastened the oxen at the corner of
a near-by side street. Jose helped carry the flax into the mill, but
he hurried back to take his seat in the ox-cart: he liked this better
even than staying in the mill.
A red, whizzing machine which Jose knew at once, from descriptions
Antonio had given him, was an automobile--came rushing through the
narrow street. The frightened oxen pulled so hard at the chain that
Jose thought they would break it and run away. He jumped down, and, in
his effort to quiet the oxen, lost the chance really to see the darting
red machine. But he saw other automobiles, by and by.
From the mill Antonio went to a neighboring shop to buy the seeds he
wanted for the second crop planting. This took a long time. Just as he
came back, the sweet-toned bells of the cathedral tower were chiming
out one o'clock. He guided the oxen to the end of a short side street,
where he let them graze upon the rich grass by the road while he and
Jose ate their luncheon. Streams of water ran along in stone channels
by the roadside. The murmur of running water was heard everywhere and
always, for this was an especially dry season, and the gardens and
fields of Guimarães needed much moisture.
Back the brothers went with the oxen into the city crowds. Antonio
wanted to get some presents to take home. Jose helped him choose these.
They bought a bright-colored little basket for the mother, new silk
kerchiefs for the sisters, a gay little scarlet kerchief for Tareja,
and a book, about modern ways of farming, for the father.
After this was done, Antonio was ready to go home.
But Jose begged: "Please, oh please, Antonio, let us stay till dark.
The band keeps on playing; I never should tire of hearing that. And
some boys were saying on the street as we passed that there are going
to be fireworks at dusk."
Antonio hesitated. They were a long way from home, and it had been a
long day.
"Joanna will milk the cow, and feed the chickens and pig. Mother will
know we are safe together. Do stay, Antonio."
So, because the little brother did not often have a holiday, Antonio
delayed starting for home. The sky was very clear. A bright moon would
give them light on the way after the late twilight ended.
There were many more people now in the city square. The crowds were
cheerful, rather quiet, and very orderly; the Portuguese people are
sober-minded, even on their holidays.
Toward nightfall the scene grew gayer. More bonfires were lighted.
A second, third, and fourth brass band marched through the streets
to their own lively strains of music. Jose's quick ear caught many a
tune which he afterward played upon his violin. Candles were lighted
now on the shrines of the holiday saint. The cathedral bells rang
forth a beautiful vesper hymn. And almost before the sun had set, the
fireworks began.
[Illustration: "HE AND JOSE LOOKED ACROSS THE CITY."]
Antonio bought a bagful of buns and seed-cakes, which they ate as they
sat in the ox-cart on the edge of the crowd. It was not long before he
saw that Jose was growing very tired.
Antonio stepped down from the cart. "We will start now, Jose. We can
watch the fireworks as we move away from the city. Then we can stop
outside and let the oxen feed a while. They must be very hungry."
And because the big brother had been so kind, Jose did not object now
to the homeward start.
A half mile out in the country, just before they reached the borders of
the pine forest, Antonio turned the willing oxen aside to let them crop
the thick grass. Seated on a high rock, he and Jose looked across at
the city.
Wonderful gleams of colored light--red, blue, green and orange--shot
out over the surrounding valleys. Showers of bright stars fell, it
seemed, as if at their very feet. The tall granite castle ruin was
lighted up with a red glow. The city itself, with its many towers and
tops showing in the blaze of color, with its bursts of music which
floated across on the soft night air, was like a story or a dream.
At last Antonio turned the oxen to the road again. "Truly we have had a
wonderful end to our holiday, Jose," he said.
"Truly we have," Jose replied drowsily. The rest by the roadside had
made him very sleepy, and the glare of light had almost blinded his
eyes.
"Climb into the cart, Jose. There is no need for two of us to walk.
The road is growing rougher now, and the cart jolts badly, but that is
easier to bear than going afoot."
Jose crept into the cart, and put his folded jacket under his head
for a pillow. He had tight in his hand the paper bag with the three
seed-cakes he had saved for his sisters. A few moments later he was
fast asleep.
Antonio, without stopping the oxen who were now going at top speed
toward home, gently put his cloak over the sleeping little man-brother.