pocket-handkerchief from the basket-hilt of his rapier, and apply it
decorously to his eyes.

"Pardon this weakness, Sir Priest," said the cavalier, apologetically;
"but these worthy gentlemen were ancient friends of mine, and have
done me many a delicate service,--much more, perchance, than these poor
sables may signify," he added, with a grim gesture toward the mourning
suit he wore.

Father Jose was too much preoccupied in reflection to notice the
equivocal nature of this tribute, and, after a few moments' silence,
said, as if continuing his thought,--

"But the seed they have planted shall thrive and prosper on this
fruitful soil."

As if answering the interrogatory, the stranger turned to the opposite
direction, and, again waving his hat, said, in the same serious tone,--

"Look to the East!"

The Father turned, and, as the fog broke away before the waving plume,
he saw that the sun was rising. Issuing with its bright beams through
the passes of the snowy mountains beyond, appeared a strange and motley
crew. Instead of the dark and romantic visages of his last phantom
train, the Father beheld with strange concern the blue eyes and flaxen
hair of a Saxon race. In place of martial airs and musical utterance,
there rose upon the ear a strange din of harsh gutturals and singular
sibilation. Instead of the decorous tread and stately mien of the
cavaliers of the former vision, they came pushing, bustling, panting,