December 11. This day went to San Martin, where we found some excellent pulque. Distance, fifteen miles.
December 12. Reached Puebla. Distance, twenty miles.
1847. The diary ends here.
Lieutenant Stevens’s wound was far more serious than he, in his cheerful way of making the best of everything, admitted. The ball ploughed across the bridge of the foot, breaking nearly all the bones. At first the surgeons were extremely doubtful of saving the foot. The wound was slow in healing, and the foot never fully recovered its strength and usefulness. Three times, at intervals of one or two years, the wound opened and expelled pieces of bone. For many years he had to wear a special shoe with extra-thick sole.
The chief of the robbers who served as spies for General Scott, a man of striking presence and romantic though blood-stained career, known as Don Juan el Diablo (Don John the Devil), formed a strong attachment to Lieutenant Stevens, and took care of him during a great part of his sickness, and was devoted and unwearied in his attentions to the wounded officer.
St. Charles, New Orleans, December 28, 1847.
My dearest Wife,—I have just reached this city after a four days’ passage from Vera Cruz, and a twenty days’ journey in all from the City of Mexico. I am in splendid health, although my wound still keeps me on crutches. We are all going up the river to-morrow, and I am full of the most blissful anticipations at the idea of seeing you, the children, and friends. You will not see me for eight or ten days after the receipt of this. I shall be obliged to stay in Washington some days. Love to friends, and to Hazard and Sue. I hope to see you soon.
Yours affectionately,
Isaac.