The War Trail Captain

CHAPTER ONE.SOUVENIRS.Land of the nopal and maguey--home of Moctezuma and Malinche!--I cannotwring thy memories from my heart! Years may roll on, hand wax weak, andheart grow old, but never till both are cold can I forget thee! I_would_ not; for th... Read more

CHAPTER ONE.SOUVENIRS.Land of the nopal and maguey--home of Moctezuma and Malinche!--I cannotwring thy memories from my heart! Years may roll on, hand wax weak, andheart grow old, but never till both are cold can I forget thee! I_would_ not; for thee would I remember. Not for all the world would Ibathe my soul in the waters of Lethe. Blessed be memory for thy sake!Bright land of Anahuac! my spirit mounts upon the aerial wings of Fancy,and once more I stand upon thy shores! Over thy broad savannahs I spurmy noble steed, whose joyous neigh tells that he too is inspired by thescene. I rest under the shade of the _corozo_ palm, and quaff the wineof the _acrocomia_. I climb thy mountains of amygdaloid and porphyry--thy crags of quartz, that yield the white silver and the yellow gold. Icross thy fields of lava, rugged in outline, and yet more rugged withtheir coverture of strange vegetable forms--acacias and cactus, yuccasand zamias. I traverse thy table-plains through bristling rows of giantaloes, whose sparkling juice cheers me on my path. I stand upon thelimits of eternal snow, crushing the Alpine lichen under my heel; whiledown in the deep barranca, far down below, I behold the feathery frondsof the palm, the wax-like foliage of the orange, the broad shiningleaves of the pothos, of arums, and bananas! O that I could again lookwith living eye on these bright pictures, that even thus palely outlinedupon the retina of memory, impart pleasure to my soul!Land of Moctezuma! I have other souvenirs of thee, more deeply gravenon my memory than these pictures of peace. Thou recallest scenes ofwar. I traversed thy fields a foeman--sword in hand--and now, afteryears gone by, many a wild scene of soldier-life springs up before mewith all the vividness of reality._The Bivouac_!--I sit by the night camp-fire; around are warlike formsand bearded faces. The blazing log reflects the sheen of arms andaccoutrements--saddles, rifles, pistols, canteens, strewing the ground,or hanging from the branches of adjacent trees. Picketed steeds loomlarge in the darkness, their forms dimly outlined against the sombrebackground of the forest. A solitary palm stands near, its curvingfronds looking hoary under the fire-light. The same light gleams uponthe fluted columns of the great organ-cactus, upon agaves and bromelias,upon the silvery _tillandsia_, that drapes the tall trees as with atoga. Less