While gazing down the crystal reservoir, we resolved, in emulation of the Indian monarch, to test its virtues, and, in a moment, we were plunging and splashing in the icy water. It was, apart from the associations connected with brown Indian divinities, the very seventh Heaven of a bath; but whether we sullied the pellucid clearness of the aqueduct's tribute, or detracted from the cooling fragrance of the celestial mint-juleps drained in town, we never had leisure to enquire; and indeed without caring a drop about the matter, we mounted our tall steeds, broke branches from the legendary tree, and passing through the kingly forest and meadow beyond, entered the deserted walls of Molino del Rey.
As I have heretofore observed, this building fills the south side of the square—a sort of irregular barrack of two stories, and some eight hundred feet in length. Directly fronting this structure, at the distance of a few hundred yards, standing upon a very slight swell of the plain, is what was termed the Casa mata—a small redoubt—ditched and flanked by trenches, standing angularly in the direction of the windmill. It was the spot where our troops suffered severely, where many undaunted soldiers fell, under a murderous fire of artillery and musketry; and where, after being repulsed, the Mexicans left their entrenchments, and put the wounded and dying to death in cold blood. This was the reason why so small a number of prisoners were taken at the storming of Chapultepec!
Leaving Molino del Rey, we made a short tour of the environs, and returned again by the main Paseo! It was the hour when most frequented. There were but few ladies, and they not of the handsomest. Lots of queer antique coaches went rumbling along, and vastly neat cabs and stylish barouches whirling past them—while showy, spirited Mexican barbs, covered with gold and silver trappings were capering and prancing, five hundred steps to the minute—then an American General and staff would sweep by, elegantly mounted on high-mettled chargers, the small horses of the natives appearing like pigmies in comparison—and again along the grassy roadside paths were little children astride large sheep, completely caparisoned with saddles, housings, and bridles, trotting away quite gaily with their innocent young burthens. We took a glance at all this, and giving spur, rode into the city.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
The day previous to my departure from Mexico, I called at the Bureau of Postes for a license, and made a report of what I considered collusion betwixt the Ladrons and Cochero, near Querétaro. The office was conducted by Mexicans; and the Administrador, quite a gentleman,—who excused his servants at some length, by stating that the causes which prevented them from disobeying the orders of the highwaymen were fears of subsequent punishment, in case of escape at the time. Moreover, in the present unsettled state of the country, crime had never been so prevalent, in consequence of the few troops at the disposal of the authorities, for the purpose of keeping the roads open, from the hordes of deserters who mostly composed these lawless bands; and even in the immediate vicinity of Mexico itself, highway robberies and murder were of daily occurrence. I was not convinced, although silenced, by the plausible courtesy of the Administrador.
Early on the morning of the 26th of May, I shook hands with my kind army friends, newly capped pistols, and vaulted into the saddle. Estámos listos—all right—said the post guide, as he succeeded in tightening the circingles, by kicking the beasts under the belly—Vamanos. Pulperias and tiendas were being opened; lepéros taking their morning's dram of pulqae; closely veiled faces and sombre gowns were moving to mass; patrols of horse and foot, returning drowsily to barracks; markets thronged; jackasses trumpetting their morning's note of thanksgiving, and the great city awaking again into hum and bustle; while, as the sun was climbing over the white-robed volcanoes that looked down upon the beautiful valley, we passed the long lines of streets and garita, gained the main road, when our pace quickened, and on we hurried along the branching shade of the avenues. Pell mell we went through droves of mules, at times driving a group of perverse donkeys right and left with the impetus of a catapult—maybe, one or more over, in a smoke from their own cargoes of charcoal, wood, or vegetables;—and long before the arrieros could right the little brutes on their legs, with arrés and blows—in readiness to treat us with curses—we had swept by in our heedless flight, unmindful of all; my guide scrupulously consoling himself by asserting that a government extraordinario had the the privilege to knock over everybody that intercepted the path. In an hour we had left canals, streams, bridges, causeways, and fertile fields of the lovely vega, and turning to the right the bluff hill closed upon the scene—and this was my latest glimpse of Mexico.
Soon leaving the main road, we branched off by narrow bridle paths, and cross cuts of the post route: four relays, and as many fresh guides, carried me to a place called Tepetitlan. Here the horse purveyor was a woman, who declared, with an ireful voice and gesture, as I drew up before her tenement, "that the blessed virgin might send her to purgatory if she had a horse with a hoof to stand on—that I might report her to the Alcalde or the devil, or both, or go there myself, just as I pleased." Que mi importa?—what do I care? And the director had no right to send three expresses in one week, when she had nothing but the old grey and the mare! Ave Maria! pues!—so help yourself! Cracking my whip a little savagely, I crossed the verdant slope of a hill, and dismounted at the gate of a walled garden, having, a dilapidated and venerable habitation within. I was decoyed thither by a brace of buxom damsels—mother and daughter—who, perceiving my distress, despatched an old cripple in search of beasts.
The little town had much to recommend it; the houses were very quaint and antiquated, strewn, as they might be, upon the sides of a grassy slope—with a crumbling stone bridge and rapid brawling river coursing at the base. Midway between was a large old church, ivy-grown from the ruined towers and belfry to the decayed buttresses and lintels of the doorway; all around the front were broad flights of stone steps, leading from the declivities of the hill, down to a level amphitheatre-like space, which was filled with glorious old trees, creeping vines, bright green grasses, ranges of marble benches beneath the shade, and in the midst, a thread of a rill, plashing about the ruins of what once had been the bowl of a large fountain.