--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - McLaughlin, Fred collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 27 number: 8 published: 1924-06 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: "Fred McLaughlin, “Queretaro Jail,” *Improvement Era 27, no. 8 (June 1924)*: 731–738." source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera2708unse transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers. identifier: improvementera2708unse start_page: 731 end_page: 738 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1924-06) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera2708unse publication_year: 1924 note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1924, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # Queretaro Jail QUERRETARO JAIL By Fred McLaughlin Bernal Diaz, patriot and Mexican spy, stood before his judge in the sombre hall in Mexico City. Lithe, graceful, and unafraid, he faced the great Maximilian. Through a narrow window behind the emperor he could see a section of the snow-capped crown of his beloved Popocatepetl. To the right and to the left he saw French officers, brave in spotless uni- forms; and a few ladies, gay in laces and bright ribbons. Among the officers he noted Lieutenant Villeures, whose appear- ance gave him quite a shock, for the Frenchman was his twin in every detail — save one. In his counterpart he missed only his own tiny mustache. This then was how they had captured him. A clever trick, worked by a man of consummate skill and daring. Well, it was the fortunes of war. He smiled at his captor, whose merry eyes returned the salute. He had done his best; Mexico would long remember his services. He raised his eyes again to the towering mountain. Never again would he stalk the elusive deer along its timbered slopes, or whip the tumbling streams for trout, or hear the electric whirr of blue quail ris- ing from hillside cornfields. No more the gathering of roses by the roadside, or the clear high-pitched voices of children singing in the evening. Never another legend of Old Mexico would he get from the lips of graybeard sages, tales of a time when Mexico was a mighty nation. Such as it was, his work was done. The emperor's voice broke into his reverie. "Yes, Excellency?" "Am I not 'Your Majesty?' The young man shook his head. "There is nothing majestic. Excellency, in the temporal ambitions of man." "There is reason in what you say." Maximilian studied the youth with a kindly eye. The emperor's face was the face of a poet, with the eyes of a dreamer. "We want only peace," he said gently. "But peace, Excellency, at the point of a bayonet is not a palatable dish for a free people. Nearly fifty years ago we won our independence. Surely France has no — " "You have given us a deal of trouble," said the emperor. A faint smile lighted the Mexican's face. "I have done my best." Madame Villeures whispered to her husband, "Francois, how like you he is. If I met him in the twilight I should love him." "Small chance, cherie; he surely dies tomorrow morning." "He — he will know how to die. I am sorry you captured him." 732 IMPROVEMENT ERA The Frenchman studied his wife's face. He found tears in the fine blue eyes. "Why, cherie?" "Because he's brave — and a gentleman; because it will seem like killing a part of you." She caught her white throat. "It — it suffo- cates me!" The prisoner continued: "Possibly we are both working for Mexico. Our methods only are different. If we had a native presi- dent— •" "For instance?" "Benito Juarez, Excellency, or Porfirio Diaz. Either will make a good president." Maximilian laughed. "Outlaws," he said, "both outlaws — rebels! Each will be shot as we catch them." "The rebel of today, Excellency, may be the patriot of tomor- row, may die the father of his country. My last prayer shall be that you do -not catch them. One of them may be our liberator — who knows?" "Your last prayer is due." The emperor's voice was hard. "Take him away; we treat all rebels alike." Madame Villeures moved forward. "Sire," she said. "Yes, my cousin?" "I would speak for the life of the prisoner." Maximilian stroked his beard. "My cousin is gentleness itself. The life of the prisoner is forfeit; he makes no defense." "Do you question his patriotism, Sire, or his bravery?" The emperor shook his head, and Madame Villeures continued, "Living, could he help you, Sire?" "Aye — if he would — aid us greatly." She turned toward the prisoner, who spoke slowly, "It is not written, Madame, that France shall rule Mexico. We are a free people." "It is useless," said the emperor. "Not so, Sire; isn't he well known in Mexico?" Though she spoke to Maximilian her eyes held the eyes of the prisoner. "Very well known, sweet cousin; why?" "And beloved of his people?" "Most beloved of his people." "Isn't there a chance, then, of his doing the cause of France great harm in his death?" "Your judgment is good, dear cousin. What would you have me do?" He leaned forward and lowered his voice so that only the golden-haired woman could hear. "Besides, he looks too much like Lieutenant Francois — eh?" She flushed, and Maximilian spoke to the captive, "Bernal Diaz, your life is in the keeping of Madame Villeures." "Thank you. Sire." She stood before the young Mexican. "I am offering you your life, senor. I — I can't see you — you — " QUERRETARO JAIL 733 He waited, studying her fair face. She saw admiration kindle in his eyes. "On condition, of course," he murmured. "Yes, senor; your parole only. You will not bear arms against the French." He searched her eyes until her gaze fell before him. "Madame of the golden curls forgets that she has just called me a patriot. My life belongs to Mexico." "Pardon," she said softly; "you only bear out my opinion of you. I required too much. You will bear arms, openly, in the ranks of those who oppose us." He bowed. "Openly only," she continued. "There will be no more re- ports of Bernal Diaz, the spy; we shall hear only of Bernal Diaz, the soldier." "Only of the soldier," he promised, a warm light in his eyes. "Are you going to take his word for that?" "I feel that his word is good, Sire — to me. And you gave me your promise." "He is free, my cousin. I hope you have not erred." Madame Villeures held out her hand. "Goodbye," she said; "I wish you well in every undertaking but — but this." He smiled. "I know you will keep your promise, senor, for such bravery as yours must of necessity go hand in hand with honor." He bowed over her hand. "Madame's faith in me does me great honor." "May I apologize for Monsieur my husband's trick?" Bernal Diaz laughed. "A hazard of the game, Madame, which, alas, I will not be able to repay. I have high respect for his courage. He is — most fortunate." She smiled upon the bowed head. "Gallantry," she murmured, "goes hand in hand with bravery and honor. Perhaps some day — " "Madame of the kindly heart may need me — some day. May I ask that she remember? Today she has given me lrfe. Who knows? I may, some day, be privileged to spend it in her cause. That life shall be kept always in readiness, for her need." Lieutenant Villeures came forward now, and the two young men, so much alike, shook hands after which Bernal Diaz, a free man, but with heart enchained, walked out — out into the bright sunlight, to the freedom of the snow-capped mountains, with their softly blanketed slopes; to the tumbling mountain torrents, and the purple deserts; to camp and bivouac, and to the companionship of his own people; to fight for his country, as a patriot should. But his companions found him strangely silent and thoughtful. The dim blue haze of the desert twilight filled his soul with dreams of a wondrous vision; in the curling smoke of the camp-fire fancy framed a fair face with sweet blue eyes and golden hair, and each 734 IMPROVEMENT ERA gentle breeze that stirred the pines became a voice of well remembered modulation. So he fought, as a patriot should, but he dreamed of the one woman who comes, once, into the life of every man. Came a day when the United States, having settled their differ- ences after four years of civil war, presented again to the world a solid front. Representation was made to France that the Monroe Doctrine, after lying fallow for some years, had begun to function again; and that the presence of French troops in Mexico was a viola- tion of that instrument. The courteous terms of the note obscured none of its firmness, and France, already sensing the gathering clouds of Prussianism to the eastward, drew her soldiers home. This move left Maximilian, with a small body of native troops who still believed in his regime, to face two Mexican armies under the erstwhile outlaws, Benito Juarez and Porfirio Diaz. The emperor was driven out of Mexico City, and pushed back, mile by mile, to the northwest. He made his last stand at Querretaro, where he and his lieutenants were betrayed into the hands of their enemies. Maximilian and his aides, among whom was Lieutenant Villeures, were tried, convicted, and sentenced to be shot. One of the guards of the dismal old jail at Querretaro brought a visitor to the cell of Lieutenant Villeures, and at the visitor's low- spoken command, left him with the prisoner. Lieutenant Villeures turned from the moonlit window. "Who is it?" The visitor moved into the belt of moonlight. "Bernal Diaz!" cried the Frenchman; "I am glad to see you." "It grieves me to find you in this predicament," said Bernal Diaz. "I tried my best to save you, and failed." "I am grateful for your efforts. A soldier must take his chances." "And — and Madame, how about Madame?" The Frenchman's face softened. "She stays with loyal friends. She was permitted to come here this afternoon — to tell me goodbye. Madame is a soldier's wife. Perhaps you can help her out of this unhappy country — afterwards." "Assuredly," promised the Mexican. "And Maximilian, her cousin; will they — ?" "Maximilian will die." "Would they shoot an emperor?" said the Frenchman, awed. "Aye, for the good of Mexico. Besides, he's not a real em- peror." The young patriot laughed. "He's just a kind of home- made emperor. But I came with an offer, and to repay a debt. Do you remember when you put on a mustache and became Bernal Diaz?" "Yes, indeed." "Then I take one off — so — and become Lieutenant Villeures; I put it orl you — so — and we change places. See?" QUERRETARO JAIL 73 5 The Frenchman caressed his suddenly acquired mustache. "I thought it was real," he said. "So it was until today, when it became necessary to have a detachable one. We change clothes, and you walk out as Bernal Diaz." "And leave you to face the firing squad tomorrow at sunrise. I guess not." "Of course not, my friend. I am merely offering you your last night with Madame. By daybreak tomorrow you will return for your rendezvous with death, and I will have repaid, in ever so small a way, my great debt to Madame. Simple, is it not?" "■Too simple. I cannot ask you to risk so much." The young patriot leaned against the bars, a picture of dejection. "I had hoped to do something for — for Madame. I owe her so much. You. will never know how much I owe her. If you do this I — I think she could understand; she would know I am trying to repay." "There are chances," objected the Frenchman. "Chances — yes." The other brightened. "But neither of us is stranger to such. Come; hurry with our change of clothes." "No." "Yes! Are you afraid to take a chance now? Is one night of life so valuable to you?" "I am thinking of you, my friend," said the lieutenant. "One night of life is nothing to me." "Of me? Ah, well — then humor my whim, my' caprice. I would show Madame that I am grateful; I have no other way." "You can escort her to a safe place," insisted the Frenchman. "Aye — afterward; but now I choose to take just a little — just a tiny — chance for her. Do you not see? We do that for those we— we cherish. Is it not so?" The Frenchman pondered. "Well — " "Ah — sensible; that's right. Now we change quickly, before the guard returns." Changed, the two men stood close together in the narrow beam of moonlight. "How strange that we should look so much alike," mused the young patriot. "I wonder." "My family," continued Bernal Diaz, "came from the south slopes of the Pyrenees." "And mine," said Lieutenant Villeures, "came from the north slopes of the Pyrenees." Bernal Diaz laughed. "A mountain range is a fine interna- tional boundary, but love has no boundaries. Some time in the past our families touched. You will — will convey my respects to Madame, and — ■" "Yes." 736 IMPROVEMENT ERA " — And tell her that love has no boundaries?" "Aye." The Frenchman considered a moment. "Suppose I decide not to return; suppose — " "You are Bernal Diaz," said the Mexican. "No one would know — but she will see that you return. I know; she will make you come back." They heard the guard's footsteps pattering along the hallway. "Goodbye." Through the barred window of the narrow cell Bernal Diaz stud- ied the moon-bathed hills. He saw a figure moving swiftly along the ridge road. The figure stopped at the crest, waved an arm, and disappeared. The young patriot looked full into the moon. "Ah, Madame," he said softly, "Madame of the golden curls, and the sweet voice, and' the kindly heart; you gave me my life. Now I give it back to you." Just before daylight Lieutenant Villeures, with the farewell kisses of his wife still sweet upon his lips, came slowly down the hill toward the jail at Querretaro. "Tell him — ". she had said, "tell Bernal Diaz that I thank him; tell him I understand." That had been her goodbye, that and her pleading voice calling after him into the night: "Francois, Francois," and again "Francois!" He stopped before the squat, ugly structure, and took one last look at the encircling hills. He drew in a deep breath of clean, sweet morning air, bowed his head, and went in. "Ho, Bernal Diaz, you come early!" cried the guard. "I would speak with Lieutenant Villeures." "You would speak — " The guard went off into a paroxysm of laughter. "You would — Augustino!" He called another guard. "Augustino, come here quick, and help me laugh. He would speak with Lieutenant Villeures!" "His voice would carry far," said Augustino, "who speaks with- Lieutenant Villeures." "But why," faltered the Frenchman; "where is he?" "Where is he? Ah." He crossed himself. "Who knows? He is dead." The guard crossed himself again. "Dead with a dozen sufficient bullet holes in his body!" "Then I'm late? I thought they — tell me." "Surely. It was less than an hour after you left," explained the guard. "Lieutenant Villeures, evidently fearing the night, made a- very clumsy effort to escape, and we, your friends, Bernal Diaz, took great pleasure in shooting down. But you tremble, Bernal, friend, and, your face is pale. Does the death of one Frenchman move you so?" Washington. D. C. The Shoemaker — His Home and Shop A MOST INTERESTING SHOEMAKER By Moses L. Rich The old fashioned cobbler is fast disappearing, and few are the •communities in Utah that can boast of having one. Martin Neilsen, or "King David" as he is familiarly called by all who know him, is the most picturesque figure in Logan. In his every day costume, you see a little figure not over four feet tall wearing a Scotch Tarn O' Shanter, with his long silvery hair coming down to his shoulders. Children are very anxious to take the family shoes to this odd little shoemaker, because he usually rewards them with a piece of rock- 738 IMPROVEMENT ERA eled everywhere on foot. The officials of each city would not let them travel to another city until they could show enough money to provide themselves with food and lodging on the way. This was done in order to eliminate beg- ging. "King David" said that as soon as he reached a cit/ he would get lodging, and then would hire out to a master tradesman who would send shoes to his lodging, already cut out to be made up. The time at which the shoes were to be finished was specified. As soon as the shoes were finished and the messenger boy came and took them back, he would re- ceive his wages. He worked for King Christian's master trades- man for about a year before he came to Utah. During this time he made practically all of the shoes for the ladies of the royal household. After a year in the em- ploy of the king, he decided that better wages were to be had in Germany, so he quit his job and made ready to leave the next day. That same day he met a "Mormon" elder by the name of S. P. Neve of Salt Lake City. Mr. Neve convinced him of the truth of "Mormonism," and he was converted a few days later. He left for Utah on April 6, 1883. It took him twenty- four days to reach Ogden, Utah, from Copenhagen. He was forty- one years of age when he reached Utah, and has worked and lived in Logan ever since. Logan, Utah The Shoemaker Sunshine and Shadows As roses do not always bloom, so also does not sunshine ever beam upon our pathway. It is as necessary to the enjoyment of life that sunshine and shadow should be intermingled, that we might in these perfect ourselves, as that the rose should fade and die that we might the more enjoy its budding.— A.