They will tell you in Anchuria， that President Miraflores，of that volatile republic， died by his own hand in the coasttown of Coralio； that he had reached thus far in flightfrom the inconveniences of an imminent revolution； andthat one hundred thousand dollars， government funds，which he carried with him in an American leather valise asa souvenir of his tempestuous administration， was neverafterward recovered.
For a real， a boy will show you his grave. It is back of thetown near a little bridge that spans a mangrove swamp. Aplain slab of wood stands at its head. Some one has burnedupon the headstone with a hot iron this inscription：
RAMON ANGEL DE LAS CRUZES
Y MIRAFLORES
PRESIDENTE DE LA REPUBLICA
DE ANCHURIA
QUE SEA SU JUEZ DIOS
It is characteristic of this buoyant people that they pursueno man beyond the grave. “Let God be his judge！”—Evenwith the hundred thousand unfound， though they greatlycoveted， the hue and cry went no further than that.
To the stranger or the guest the people of Coralio willrelate the story of the tragic end of their former president；how he strove to escape from the country with the publicefunds and also with Dona Isabel Guilbert， the youngAmerican opera singer； and how， being apprehended bymembers of the opposing political party in Coralio， heshot himself through the head rather than give up thefunds， and， in consequence， the Senorita Guilbert. Theywill relate further that Dona Isabel， her adventurousbark of fortune shoaled by the simultaneous loss of herdistinguished admirer and the souvenir hundred thousand，dropped anchor on this stagnant coast， awaiting a risingtide.
They say， in Coralio， that she found a prompt andprosperous tide in the form of Frank Goodwin， an Americanresident of the town， an investor who had grown wealthyby dealing in the products of the country—a banana king， arubber prince， a sarsaparilla， indigo and mahogany baron. TheSenorita Guilbert， you will be told， married Senor Goodwinone month after the president’s death， thus， in the verymoment when Fortune had ceased to smile， wresting fromher a gift greater than the prize withdrawn.
Of the American， Don Frank Goodwin， and of his wifethe natives have nothing but good to say. Don Frank haslived among them for years， and has compelled theirrespect. His lady is easily queen of what social life thesober coast affords. The wife of the governor of thedistrict， herself， who was of the proud Castilian familyof Monteleon y Dolorosa de los Santos y Mendez， feelshonored to unfold her napkin with olive-hued， ringedhands at the table of Senora Goodwin. Were you to refer（with your northern prejudices） to the vivacious past ofMrs. Goodwin when her audacious and gleeful abandonin light opera captured the mature president’s fancy， or toher share in that statesman’s downfall and malfeasance，the Latin shrug of the shoulder would be your only answerand rebuttal. What prejudices there were in Coralioconcerning Senora Goodwin seemed now to be in herfavor， whatever they had been in the past.
It would seem that the story is ended， instead of begun；that the close of tragedy and the climax of a romance havecovered the ground of interest； but， to the more curiousreader it shall be some slight instruction to trace the closethreads that underlie the ingenious web of circumstances.
The headpiece bearing the name of President Mirafloresis daily scrubbed with soap-bark and sand. An old halfbreedIndian tends the grave with fidelity and the dawdlingminuteness of inherited sloth. He chops down the weedsand ever-springing grass with his machete， he plucks antsand scorpions and beetles from it with his horny fingers，and sprinkles its turf with water from the plaza fountain.
There is no grave anywhere so well kept and ordered.
Only by following out the underlying threads will it bemade clear why the old Indian， Galves， is secretly paidto keep green the grave of President Miraflores by onewho never saw that unfortunate statesman in life or indeath， and why that one was wont to walk in the twilight，casting from a distance looks of gentle sadness upon thatunhonored mound.
