The War Trail

CHAPTER ONE.

SOUVENIRS.

Land of the nopal and maguey--home of Moctezuma and Malinche!--I cannot
wring thy memories from my heart! Years may roll on, hand wax weak, and
heart 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 I
bathe 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 spur
my noble steed, whose joyous neigh tells that he too is inspired by the
scene. I rest under the shade of the _corozo_ palm, and quaff the wine
of the _acrocomia_. I climb thy mountains of amygdaloid and porphyry--
thy crags of quartz, that yield the white silver and the yellow gold. I
cross thy fields of lava, rugged in outline, and yet more rugged with
their coverture of strange vegetable forms--acacias and cactus, yuccas
and zamias. I traverse thy table-plains through bristling rows of giant
aloes, whose sparkling juice cheers me on my path. I stand upon the
limits of eternal snow, crushing the Alpine lichen under my heel; while
down in the deep barranca, far down below, I behold the feathery fronds
of the palm, the wax-like foliage of the orange, the broad shining
leaves of the pothos, of arums, and bananas! O that I could again look
with living eye on these bright pictures, that even thus palely outlined
upon the retina of memory, impart pleasure to my soul!

Land of Moctezuma! I have other souvenirs of thee, more deeply graven
on my memory than these pictures of peace. Thou recallest scenes of
war. I traversed thy fields a foeman--sword in hand--and now, after
years gone by, many a wild scene of soldier-life springs up before me
with all the vividness of reality.

_The Bivouac_!--I sit by the night camp-fire; around are warlike forms
and bearded faces. The blazing log reflects the sheen of arms and
accoutrements--saddles, rifles, pistols, canteens, strewing the ground,
or hanging from the branches of adjacent trees. Picketed steeds loom
large in the darkness, their forms dimly outlined against the sombre
background of the forest. A solitary palm stands near, its curving
fronds looking hoary under the fire-light. The same light gleams upon
the fluted columns of the great organ-cactus, upon agaves and bromelias,
upon the silvery _tillandsia_, that drapes the tall trees as with a
toga.