The peons who do the work of the hacienda are completely Indian in character, appearance and habits, sometimes marvelous in their strength and activity, and sometimes surprising us with their unsurpassed laziness. The women, patient things, like all squaws, carry wood, water, and do all the household labor.
From this beautiful little amphitheatre among the hills we wound along parched arroyos and valleys, and I could not but be struck with the wise provision of nature for the protection of its creations. Almost all the trees have tap roots, or if fibrous, they run so deep in search of moisture, that they are often longer than the tree is high. In the arroyos where the earth was often washed from the roots, I had a good opportunity of confirming my conclusions. We proceeded up a deep ravine, until we began the ascent of the famed pass of Rinconada, intended to be defended by Santa Anna, but abandoned when our troops approached. How any force of artillery could have deserted such a position I can not conceive, for the unfinished fort commands the road for two miles at least.
The view from the Fort was most superb, but we were tired of mountains, and longed for shade and woods. Crossing this pass we had our first indication of increasing altitude, and above us on the rocks were pines and cedars. They had the showers we longed for and saw passing, while almost smothered in dust, our hair and whiskers white with it, and we looked like a troop of grey veterans.
We approached Saltillo over a broad plain, dotted with ranchos for some miles before we reached the town, which we entered through lanes of adobe walls, and finally came to the principal street, and commenced the ascent of the hill on which the town proper stands. It is all Mexican in its character, one story houses, flat roofed and having a fortified look, as if no one trusted his neighbor. The public square is a fine one, and the cathedral front the most beautiful I have seen on this side of the Atlantic. The workmen who did the carving came from Spain, and the stone from the Rocky Mountains, so goes the story. Saltillo has many good points, it is clean, well regulated, and [has] better buildings than any I have seen except at Monterey, yet we pushed on, and have made our camp at Buena Vista, six miles further on. High mountains bound our view on every side. Buena Vista had its battle, and few of us but have some friend or acquaintance sleeping there.
Parras, May 28th. I shall never forget the Buena Vista Camp, the night of the 23d and 24th, it was the night previous to our departure for this place; the guard was slow in coming out, Montrose Graham was guard over my tent that watch, and as Simson called his guard to order, and faced me, where I had risen up to see who were changing, George Weed let his rifle fall. The cock was down on the nipple, contrary to a positive order; in falling, the head of the hammer struck the ground first, and, as if the trigger had been pulled, it went off. An exclamation came from either side, one "Mr. Audubon's killed," the other from me: "Who's hurt?" A groan from poor Graham was the answer. We were all hurry for lights and water, and the Doctor. All loved Graham, he was the handsome man of the original party of ninety-eight, just twenty-two, and the Captain of his tent, "The Hailstorm Mess," so called by Lieut. Browning, from its go-ahead principles.
The ball had passed through his ancle, and both Drs. Perry and Trask said he could not go on for some weeks. So it was decided to leave his cousin, Molinear, with him, a more practical physician than most of his age, and as much money as we could spare, that they could follow us or return home, as seemed most judicious.
Frank Carrol, as good a man as I ever wish on such an expedition, found accommodations for Graham, and remained with him at Saltillo. How we parted from them only those can know who have been compelled to leave friends in a strange land.
For several days our road continued over long hills, and parched valleys, and on the last day of this travel we had a most extraordinary view. We had climbed a hill, not more than three hundred feet high, but very steep, and reached a broad plain five or six miles wide, but much longer. On every side was a chain of sterile volcanic mountains; it was, for one view, most wonderful; it looked as if an immense lake, that threatened to cover the mountains, had suddenly been changed to earth. Crossing this plain and rounding one of the desolate peaks, we came to the hacienda of Don Emanuel Hivarez, who has five hundred peons at work. The water used for irrigation, without which nothing could be grown, is brought in an adobe aqueduct for several miles. It is an old settlement and very dirty, abounding in fleas and vermin of all descriptions. Yet when one comes to a hacienda with water all round, brought from some mountain stream, the contrast between the desolate land we have travelled and the exuberant luxuriance of vines, figs and magua gives a beauty which almost makes me, with my hatred of everything Mexican, admire our surroundings. Mocking-birds are all around us, and could I linger to explore, I have no doubt I could have added many new birds to my list, but with cholera hanging round, breaking out, in a mild form it is true, at every place we stop at, we must push on.
We daily pass cacti of three species, as well as miles of aloes, yet not enough nourishment to feed a horse in the whole of them, and through this country we start tomorrow for Chihuahua. We have one hundred and fifty-seven mules and horses and fifty-seven men, and are in good spirits. We hear Chihuahua is our best route, but we may have different information at Parral and go through Sonora.
May 29th. Parras is like all Mexican towns I have seen, a few French and Americans, some with a Mexican wife, others with a housekeeper; but all indolent, keeping little stores and warehouses and making immense profits. It is celebrated for wines and brandy, made principally by foreigners.