A BULL FIGHT AT SANTA CRUZ.

Press, Volume LV, Issue 10043, 23 May 1898, Page 7

A BULL FIGHT AT SANTA CRUZ.

H. Bi.n*pt.oss, in London Society. It was two o'clock in the afternoon, and fiercely hot, when we threaded our way tln-.*ii-r*» an ea-'er crowd, moving beneath the lines (>( tings, which overhung the icoixhiui- --I'-'cft- towards the "Plaza de toros.'' ii l'i-.H-riiv. Half the city seemed to be ]»i-ii,."'«'---*ii-.i' that way, and from every fat-t-'pl *'"°* '''■-* _*'een shuttered window lav,' I '"}' - K,?s I down, and merry voices exchanged b.idiimge with the throng There is no doubt that the Latin races en enjoy themselves heartily, in a jnnnnei- unknown to the North, for* among them ail " ri - > hoard no uncivil word, nor saw any sign o" dvuiikennes*. .... living two dollars a head, we entered the b-ill-riti"*, and seated ourselves "en la joinbiv..' i>r «>n the shady side. Imagine an jmms''^ e circular building, open to the sky, Mid surrounding a central arena on the model 0 f a R'.-ni'iii amphitheatre, and you have a "plsza de toros" —they are all the same from Jdadrid to Mexico. The strangely diversified groups that poured steadily in would liave repaid a visit alone. There were peasants from the volcanic heights, attired iv uiistiu'ched linen garments, which reached only to tlie knee, with raw hide sandals on their nakt-d feet, each one carrying a massy blanket, the dearest made in England, rolled »bout liis shoulders. This costs the wearer two months' earnings, and lasts a lifetime— he never goes anywhere without it, and staunchly lesists une ternptaion to buy one "made in Germany" at a third cost. . . . The shrill call of a bugle rang through the lieated air, and the murmur of many voices became suddenly still as the great doors swung back, and the gorgeous troupe or •'cuaderilia," rode into the ring. The scene was a kaleidoscopic cliange of colour. Man after man dressed in gorgeous silks, with a crimson, green, or yellow cloak fluttering behind him, filed in, and the brawny chests of the lenders were covered from neck to waist with jewels. Many of viiese gems were the gifts of governors and deputies, for in Spain and her colonies a successful bull-fighter is much better paid than a prime minister—-and considerably more respected. After the Governor had bowed in answer to the salute of raised lances, • and* thrown down the keys, which the "maestro" caught, the troupe withdrew, all save two men and a few attendants. The former were swathed from waist to ankle in leather, and mounted on worn-out, blind-folded horses; while the latter stood beside the circular barricades, with brilliant-hued cloaks in their hands. A sudden hush fell upon the immense multitude, and the dry rustic of palm fronds outside came sharply through the stillness, as the first picador rode slowly into the centre of the glaring, sunlit arena. Someone cried "Listo! and with a bellow of rage a tawny, Andalusian bull, bred from fighting pedigree and rendered furious by hunger and dark confinement, bounded into the ring. For a few moments it stood half-blinded, pawing up the sand, and then lowering its long, keen horns, leapt forward, straight for the mounted man. The writer fancied he could hear the crowd draw in a deep breath as the picador drew himself up and sat stiffly erect, holding the lanco before him. The trenchant steel met the charging bull square in the shoulder, but the point being designed to torture, not kill, only ploughed a deep groove across its neck, and roaring savagely while its shoulder dripped blood, the furious beast charged on. The man made a futile effort to wheel his steed aside, but the poor jade was not intended for a display of horsemanship—it was only there to be killed. Next moment, horse and rider went down together before a blow like tliat of a battering ram, and there would speedily have been an end of both but that an attendant leapt past thVbull, and waved a crimson cloak before its eyes. The second picador, wisely for himself, kept near the barricade, and when the bull charged him furiously endeavoured to avoid _he rush. He was too late, however. The keen horns slid into the side of the wretched horse, somewhere beneath the stirrup leathers, and both were hurled bodily against tho timbering. The man grasped at the topmost rail, and dragged himself across, amid the howls and groans of the spectators, who would gladly have seen him killed; while the bull proceeded to gore and trample the life out of the helpless steed until a capero drew it away with his cloak. Meanwhile the attendants had been busy plugging the streaming wounds of the first horse with straw and tow—a custom common enough—and now they proceeded to urge it forward by stabs and blows, the rider, whose face was ashsy-grey, swaying in the saddle. There was a good reason for this^— as we afterwards heard—two of his ribs had been broken in the previous encounter. When the bull charged he met it pluckily with the lance, but the shaft snapped like a a pipe stem, and next moment the pair were dashed one above another to the ground. The man lay very quiet and still until he was dragged away, while in spite of the efforts of the caperos the bull stamped the horse into a shapeless, quivering heap. Then the Governor raised his hand • a bugle announced that scene one was over, and some of the British spectators felt curiously cold and sick. "Get mc out for heaven's sake— I've seen quite enough 1" said one who was visiting the Islands for his health; but every passage way was blocked, and we were hemmed in hard and fast. One of the most striking things about the whole scene was the way in which women and young children—and there were many ladies of station among them—smiled and clapped their hands in delight at'the most revolting incidents. Their plaudits, also, were mostly lavished upon the bull, and they seemed strangely indifferent to the fate of the man who risked life and limb for their amusement. The capero scene, however, is always the worst, for it is a mere disDlay of butchery, and almost devoid of