Jasper County Democrat, Volume 1, Number 22, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 10 September 1898 — SPANISH AIR CASTLES. [ARTICLE]

SPANISH AIR CASTLES.

Twa Noblemen That Figured on Theit Division of the Spoils of War. Counts de Dos Toros and Hijo Grande sat together in the latter gentleman’s ancient hall sipping Spanish claret and building castles in America, Said De Dos Toros: “I have already petitioned his majesty to grant me an estate in America. I will fight for his majesty and help him whip that pig country.” He blew a thin thread of smoke from his lips and watched it curl upward toward the armorial bearings over the fireplace. Count Hijo Grande sighed, holding his claret glass to the light. “I, too, have asked a like favor of his majasty,” he murmured. For awhile they sat silent, heavy with meditation. • Then spoke De Dos Toros: “These, our estates near Valencia border on one another —let it be so in America. I will ask his majesty to give up to me Chicago. Count de Dos Toros de Chicago. How is that?” The other aristocratic face brightened with the glow of a beautiful idea. “Then I will have New York. I will be Count Hijo Grande de New York, and we will continue to be neighbors.” They lifted their glasses and gulped the claret, smiling in spite of it. “There is a divine beverage to that pig country,” said De Dos Toros. “It is called club cocktails; we will presently be drinking that.” Hijo Grande relit his cigar, though it was burned to the butt. “Good,” said he; “and we will sail about the Mississippi in a yacht now owned by that pig Vanderbilt. I think the Mississippi is in your land.” “Verily,” replied his friend, “and those dogs of Cubans must return to their business of growing tobacco for us.” The serene faces of 27 ancestors gazed down at De Dos Toros with a smile of approbation on their haughty lips. “The king,” said Hijo Grande, “will make the capitol his summer resort. I myself would fain put up for awhile at the treasury.” He spread his slim hands on the table beside the decanter of sour claret. “My brother, pray advance me 30 peseta pieces,” he murmured. Count de Dos Toror de Chicago smote his pocket. “I cannot,” he cried in consternation, “I have but seven.” —Criterion.