As morning broke the greatness of the change became more marked. Farewell to fat corn-fields and undulating plains, beseamed with tree-embowered, deeply set, and muddy rivers, to frequent villages and Kansas towns, to the cheerful aspect of labour and its rich rewards, to the rows of tender green maize, the expanses of wheat, the herds of cattle, belly-deep in the meadows, the black swine wallowing in the ponds! I do not say "farewell" regretfully, but use the word to express a complete departure from the scene of yesterday. By the margin of the river belts of cotton-wood trees lent shade as the day wore on to herds of wild-looking cattle, and presently vast flocks of sheep and lambs appeared on the plain, and droves of horses, the mares with foals at their feet, tended by mounted men, accompanied by slim wiry greyhounds. These belonged to the marshes, which became more frequent as we progressed westward. The character of the soil gradually improved; patches of flowers, purple, blue, and yellow, gave brightness to the colouring of the prairie grass, but it is not easy to identify species from the windows of a railway carriage. Here Pawnees and Apaches hunted the buffaloes, which not long ago literally blackened the meadows. Soon after 8 A.M. the train stopped at Granada—three or four scattered detached houses—a "store," "a drover's home," a ticket-office; the Duke and some others got out "to change the air," and to talk to some workmen who were digging a deep well for engine supply.
More life perhaps, and greater show of cattle and horses—interesting too in what there was to see, for it was of novel aspect; toiling over the track parallel to the railway, tilt-covered carts, one or two, or three perhaps, of emigrants making westwards "immer und immer"; groups of tents where the wayfarers halted; the usual outcome of women and children gazing at the special; tall, long-haired, wild-looking men tending their herds, riding lasso in hand after the wild colts scampering in the distance, for we are now in New Mexico.
If a Boer in a trance were taken up by the breeches and dropped hereabouts, he would surely begin to look about for his house! It is the Transvaal all over—the Drakensberg, with patches of snow here and there on the peaks near at hand. The land does not flow with milk or water, but there is coal in the hills, and there is wealth of sheep, horses, and herds. The "burro" or donkey, which plays such an important part in the domestic economy of the Mexican, abounded; explorers' covered carts, termed "desert schooners," with white tilt roofs, were seen on the plain.
A little before noon the train reached La Junta (the junction)—pronounced by the natives "Le Hunter." Mount Fisher on one side, the Spanish Peak on the other, towered higher and higher. At last, beyond Starkville, we reached the summit pass of the Rocky range, here 9000 feet high. It needed two engines to haul the train up the summit, which is perforated by a tunnel 1700 feet long. I am not sure that the Sömmering or the Bhoreghaut presented greater engineering difficulties. We got out to walk across the hill—not a mile—and were well rewarded for the slight exertion, for there is a grand panoramic view from the top, and we rejoined the train at the foot laden with wild flowers and delighted with the scenery. Our American friends told us not to hurry, as the air was so rarefied it might affect us; but I do not think any of the party were inconvenienced by the climb or descent. Lady Green was the first Englishwoman who ever crossed the summit. There are not, we were told, more than half-a-dozen American or other ladies who have ever been over it.
A little further west we crossed towards evening the frontier of New Mexico. We whistled rejoicingly along cañons, slid down by the sides of tremendous ravines, and sidled into the lower regions, where the train found rest in a siding for the night at Las Vegas ("the meadows").
May 29th.—The ship of the desert was under weigh soon after 6 A.M., and the promises made that early risers would be rewarded by fine scenery were amply fulfilled. We were still making our way by wide, sweeping curves downwards to the hilly plains of New Mexico—a novel flora and a complete change of forestry—scarce a house visible, stations at long intervals, sage bush, juniper, and firs, the river courses marked by belts of cotton-wood trees.
At last we reached Santa Fé—a very pleasant break, indeed, but short, alas! at this ancient city—the oldest now existing on this North American Continent—100 years older than Boston—hubbiest and most rejuvenated of the work of civilised hands! The cupolas of the cathedral, of the hospital, and of the old church of San Miguel, were visible some time before the adobe houses of the "city" came in view. The builders put Santa Fé in a hollow for the sake of the little stream. Colonel Hatch and his staff, who were waiting to receive the Duke in full uniform, entered the saloon and introduced his adjutant, Captain Lord, Major Lee, of the Quartermaster-General's Department, Captain Woodruff, &c. What a charming change it was to meet agreeable, well-informed gentlemen who never once mentioned "dollars," or told us what any one was worth, or the number of bushels of wheat and other stuffs which were raised per acre, and who had no elevators to show! Carriages were waiting. Colonel Hatch drove the Duke of Sutherland "behind" a capital pair of fast trotters. Lady Green and Sir H. Green, accompanied by Major Lee, were in a carriage and pair; Mr. Stephen, Mr. Wright and I were assigned to Captain Woodruff; Edward was on the box; our chariot wheels drave heavily; but the spirited little horses spun us rapidly through the streets of the town, into what would be called in India "the cantonment"—the Head-Quarters of the district of New Mexico. Within a large quadrangle, fenced in by a neat white paling, facing two sides of the square, are placed the detached houses of the officers, each with its little garden and trellised verandah in front, and a small space in the rear; the barracks and hospital, very neat outside, and no doubt equally proper interiorly—efforts at gardening and flowers commendable. In the centre the tall pole bearing "Old Glory" (the Stars and Stripes) aloft to the admiring skies, a Parrot gun for signals, and military properties generally. Some soldiers of the 9th Cavalry and 15th Infantry were lounging about, but the Command is scattered at Fort Union, Fort Bayard, Fort Wingate (13th Infantry), Fort Lewis, Pagosa Springs, Fort Craig, Ojo Caliente, Fort Stanton, Fort Bliss (Texas), Fort Cummings, and Fort Seldon. Just before we arrived a column had marched off to strengthen the frontier posts, 200 miles away, where the Ute Indians were menacing the poor whites with war—one of those troubles which appear to be the greatest blot on the capacity of the United States Government in its civil administration. The streets are narrow, the houses of abode two storeys high, with flat earth roofs, but there is a plaza with some trees, in which there was a small crowd listening to the strains of the excellent band of the 9th Cavalry—a penny theatre, drinking saloons, bars, &c., and a large hotel is being built on a scale which argues a robust faith in the future of Santa Fé. From the mounds on which Fort Marcy stood in the time of the war, we looked down on the flat roofs of the town and wondered how the people were fed, for of cornfields or of green there was no trace; but we were told that there is a good deal of trade in the place, and that it was not as bad as it looked. Thence the Cathedral—to be the magnum opus of the good Archbishop. The lofty walls of cut stone and pillared doorways and windows are rising—let us hope rapidly and surely—round the original adobe of the simple edifice, which was built by the Spaniards in the usual cruciform shape more than two centuries ago. Some veiled and black-robed sisters of charity were praying before the Virgin in the transept; curiosity to see the strangers prevailed for a moment, and for a moment only. Criticism must be mute before the pious intent with which the intrepid missionaries decorated with images and pictures the altar and the lateral chapels. If any one as he stood thought of the peril which attended the steps of these good men, and then felt inclined to scoff at the rude art of the Christian symbols he saw around him, I should not feel proud of his companionship. We went on to the Church of San Miguel, an adobe block, dating from 1572, in the time of the Marquis of Penuelo, but renovated after two fires, the last about 200 years ago. The stalwart sacristan who received us, a full-blooded Canadian, was a famous base ball player. He showed the little there was to be seen with care and courtesy—no doubt "pius miles, fortis sacerdos." A large Hospital, due to the devotion of one nun, who collected and worked year after year among the faithful, was pointed out to us. But we had yet to pay our respects to the venerated and venerable Archbishop. Our carriages stopped at the door of a modest house—the visitors were conducted through an open courtyard in the Spanish fashion, with a fountain sparkling in the centre, to the Archbishop's reception-room, a quietly furnished apartment, with religious paintings and pictures on the walls, bookcases well-filled with patristic theology, history, &c. Presently the Archbishop entered—a tall man of commanding presence and benevolent aspect, dressed in the purple of his rank, with perfect manners and the pleasantest possible expression in his keen yet gentle eyes. Over seventy years of age, he is still the boldest and most untiring of horsemen, and, unarmed and unescorted, he travels from one end of New Mexico to Texas and California without any fear of what man, red or white, can do unto him. It is forty years since Archbishop Lamy left the shores of France for America, and for thirty years he has devoted himself to the spiritual welfare and temporal progress of the people of his enormous diocese. By all classes and all denominations he is held in honour, and when the Pope sent him the archbishop's pallium some years back, the procession was headed by two Jews! a singular token of tolerance on both sides, which might be commended to the notice of religious Germans and Russians. The Archbishop led us to his ample and well-stocked garden, an oasis in the adobe wilderness; to his fish-ponds, where trout and fish unknown to us rose to take food from his hand, all the time chatting so easily and answering questions so kindly that every one felt sorry when it was time to go. If all we were told be true, the field of the Archbishop's labours yields many tares and thistles. Monte is a powerful rival; faro has many votaries; the only two houses of pretension in Santa Fé belong to priests of these cultes. High and low, rich and poor, gamble as the business of life. The ladies, once freed from duennadom by marriage, cause great uneasiness to their father confessors. Several of the younger women, with fine eyes and teeth and raven tresses, were pretty, but we did not see any who looked like a lady; the old ones were fat and exceedingly unlovely. The Mexican men and women were dark as Indians—dusky as Lola—and easily recognisable from Americans by their affectation of gay colours in dress. Colonel Hatch and his officers bade good-bye at the station. General Sheridan had telegraphed that the party would arrive last night, and a little ball had been arranged in our honour, but all we could do now was to thank our friends for their good intentions and drink to their long life and preservation from the Indians and other evils, and at four o'clock the train moved out and left the capital of New Mexico to its own devices. The good prelate sent the Duke a present of Mexican wine, which disappeared between the house and the railway. I hope it disagreed with the rogues who drank it, but that is a detail. The Indians—a race called Pueblos—about here are quiet, civilised after a fashion and a bad one. There is a large settlement some miles farther on than Santa Fé where the train halted, and we were surrounded by red men eager for tobacco, women, and children, with turquoises to sell—keen-eyed, white-teethed, with masses of straight, coarse black hair, cut straight off the forehead, worn by the men in clubs behind, and by the women in unkempt locks. The women had their legs swathed from the knee down in thick folds of cotton cloth, and wore a sort of kilt, with red and black blankets on their shoulders. The men wore deerskin leggings and castaway European clothing; none were armed but one, who had an old musket. I committed a penal offence unwittingly by giving one of them a small glass of whisky. Alas! How long was it before our kind Christian friends discovered that the firewater of the palefaces was not an "agency" for good? How long ere the Wilfrid Lawsons of Washington decreed that temperance for red men should be enforced by law? The train sped on, the broad dry bed of the tributary of the Rio Grande del Norte close at hand. Ere sunset we had struck the great but unprofitable river itself. As the train steamed along through the waste, "It's exactly like Sibi," said one. "It's Beloochistan," says another. "No," argued a fellow, "It's like Egypt about Abul-Simnel." Any way, an Indian Caractacus might well wonder why Hidalgo of Spain or Yankee of New England should envy him his barren, fata-morgana-haunted desert, fenced in by mountain ridges tier upon tier. "By thunder! they'll get $100,000,000 of gold out of that mountain before they be done with it. There is a company forming to make a dam that will cost $500,000 to scoop it out." And the untutored Indian, anxious for a 10c. piece, knew not that more wealth than Cortez, or Pizarro, Drake, or Raleigh, ever dreamt of lay close at hand! The Duke, who had what the Americans call "quite a good time of it" on the engine, with a London and North-Western driver, was struck with the stress of work put on the locomotive. It was to run from Kansas City to Deming—1140 miles—it is not often an English engine has to do more than 200 miles without an overhaul and rest. There were two engineers and two firemen for all the journey, and they were to return from Deming as soon as needed. "Ten o'clock! Arthur, make up the beds—good night, everyone!" Rattle, rattle, all night—onwards under the bright stars through the desert till morning.
END OF VOL. I.
LONDON: PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS.