The War Trail | Page 3

that
these people are not agriculturists, but vaqueros (herdsmen); and that
the glades and openings of that thick chapparal are speckled with herds
of fierce Spanish cattle, and droves of small sharp-eared Andalusian
horses, of the race of the Barb. The fact of so little cultivation does not
abnegate the existence of industry on the part of the villagers. Grazing
is their occupation, not farming; only a little of the latter to give them
maize for their tortillas, chile to season it with, and black beans to
complete the repast. These three, with the half-wild beef of their wide
pastures, constitute the staple of food throughout all Mexico. For drink,
the denizen of the high table-land find his favourite beverage--the rival
of champagne--in the core of the gigantic aloe; while he of the tropic
coast-land refreshes himself from the juice of another native endogen,
the acrocomia palm.
Favoured land! Ceres loves thee, and Bacchus too. To thy fields both
the god and the goddess have been freely bounteous. Food and drink
may be had from them on easy terms. Alas! as in all other lands--one
only excepted--Nature's divine views have been thwarted, her aim set
aside, by the malignity of man. As over the broad world the blight of
the despot is upon thy beauty.
Why are these people crowded together--hived, as it were, in towns and
villages? Herdsmen--one would expect to find them scattered by reason
of their occupation. Besides, a sky continually bright, a genial clime, a
picturesqueness of scene--all seem to invite to rural life; and yet I have
ridden for hours, a succession of lovely landscapes rising before my
eyes, all of them wild, wanting in that one feature which makes the
rural picture perfect--the house, the dwelling of man! Towns there are;
and at long intervals the huge hacienda of the landed lord, walled in
like a fortress; but where are the ranchos, the homes of the common
people? True, I have noticed the ruins of many, and that explains the

puzzle. I remember, now that I am on the frontier: that for years past
the banks of the Rio Bravo, from its source to the sea, have been hostile
ground--a war-border of fifteen hundred miles in length! Many a red
conflict has occurred--is still occurring--between those Arabs of the
American desert--the Horse Indians--and the pale-faced descendants of
the Spaniard. That is why the ranchos exist only in ruins--that is why
the haciendas are loopholed, and the populace pent up within walls.
The condition of feudal Europe exists in free America, on the banks of
the Rio Bravo del Norte!
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Nearly a mile off, looking westward, I perceive the sheen of water: it is
a reach of the great river that glances under the setting sun. The river
curves at that point; and the summit of a gentle hill, half girdled by the
stream, is crowned by the low white walls of a hacienda. Though only
one story high, this hacienda appears, from its extent, and the style of
its architecture, to be a noble mansion. Like all of its class, it is
flat-roofed; but the parapet is crenated, and small ornamental turrets
over the angles and the great gateway relieve the monotony of its
outlines. A larger tower, the belfry of a chapel, appears in the
background, the Mexican hacienda is usually provided with its little
capilla, for the convenient worship of the peon retainers. The emblems
of religion, such as it is, are thick over the land. The glimmer of glass
behind the iron rejas relieves to some extent the prison-like aspect, so
characteristic of Mexican country-houses. This is further modified by
the appearance over the parapet of green foliage. Forms of tropic
vegetation show above the wall; among others, the graceful curving
fronds of a palm. This must be an exotic, for although the lower half of
the Rio Bravo is within the zone of the palms, the species that grow so
far north are fan-palms (chamaerops and sabal). This one is of far
different form, with plume-shaped pinnate fronds, of the character of
cocos, phoenix, or euterpe. I note the fact, not from any botanical
curiosity with which it inspires me, but rather because the presence of
this exotic palm has a significance. It illustrates a point in the character
of him--it may be her--who is the presiding spirit of the place. No
doubt there is a fair garden upon the azotea--perhaps a fair being

among its flowers! Pleasant thoughts spring up--anticipations. I long to
climb that sloping hill, to enter that splendid mansion, and, longing still,
I gaze.
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The ring of a bugle startles me from this pleasant reverie. 'Tis only a
stable-call; but it has driven sweet reflections out of my mind, and my
eyes are turned away from