This conversation occurred whilst we were returning from a visit to Gov. Moore’s family. I had driven over to their cottage in a buggy, to invite them to join us at dinner. Allen had accompanied me. . . . These exiles were personal friends of mine. I suffered in parting with them: for some I suffer still—for those who are still absent and still living! Everything was very quiet and still, nothing audible but the low murmur of our voices, when suddenly arose from the prairie beyond us, one of the beautiful, plaintive, cattle or “salt” songs of Texas. These wild simple melodies had a great attraction for me. I would often check my horse on the prairies, and keep him motionless for a half-hour, listening to these sweet, melancholy strains. Like all cattle-calls, they are chiefly minor. I thought them quite as singular and beautiful as the Swiss Ranz des Vaches, or the Swedish cattle-calls. They consisted of a few chanted words, with a cadence and a long yodl. Sometimes the yodling was aided by what the Texan boys called “quills”—two or more pipes made of reed—cane (arundinaria macrosperma). This made a sort of limited syrinx, which gave wonderful softness and flute-like clearness to the prolonged tones of the voice, as it was breathed into them. The boy sang one of his saddest “calls.” I looked quickly to see if Gov. Allen had noticed the melancholy words and mournful air. I saw he had. He ceased talking, and his face was very grave.
The boy sang:
“Going away to leave you,
Ah-a-a-a—
Going away to leave you,
Ah-a-a-a—
Going away to-morrow,
Ah-a-a-a—
Going away to-morrow,
Ah-a-a-a—
Never more to see you,
Ah-a-a-a—
Never more to see you,
Ah a-a-a.”
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This had always been an affecting strain to me; it was doubly so under the existing circumstances. The song died mournfully away. We drove on in silence for a few moments. Gov. Allen roused himself, with a sigh: “That boy’s song is very sad.”
“Yes, but he sings it very frequently. He knows nothing about you. It is neither a prophecy nor intended to be sympathetic,—you need not make special application of it!”
“No; but it may prove a strange coincidence.”
“You shan’t say that. I won’t listen to such a thought. You’ll only spend a pleasant summer travelling in Mexico. We’ll see you at the opera in New Orleans, next winter.”
“I hope so.”