COLONEL WARLOW'S STORY--CONTINUED.
"Our ship touched at Havana, and in company with several other
passengers, who lived in the Mississippi Valley, I decided to stop here
until a vessel sailed for New Orleans, which would not occur for ten
days yet; but years might be passed in that beautiful city of
enchantment, the 'Queen of the Antilles,' and we found our stay one
round of perpetual delight.
"A day was devoted to a sail around the sunlit harbor, environed by
mansions, castles, and palm-decked hills--the sapphire sky bounded only
by the purple mountains or pale-green sea. Then we visited Old Moro
Castle, its portcullis, donjon-keep, and 'sounding barbacan,' its gloomy
grandeur of turret and tower--
'Its loop-holed grates, where captives weep,'--
all recalling the feudal days of Scotland and Spain. Next we drove
through the Prado of San Isabel, with its triumphal arches of snowy
marble, its rose-decked alamedas lined with palm, cypress, and magnolia,
its clear fountains foaming amid thickets of acacia and blooming
oleander; and then on to the great theater of Tacon, where the evening
was passed as if in fairy-land.
"Christmas-day we drove out to visit a coffee-plantation a dozen miles
from the city walls. The dew was still glittering on the foliage as we
whirled rapidly along in our easy volantas, and the air was rich with
the odor of orange-blossoms and a myriad of other tropic flowers. We
halted at the Bishop's Gardens for an hour, and I can but faintly
describe their gorgeous floral wealth. These gardens are centuries old,
dating back to the days of Charles V., when the Spanish banner of
crimson and gold waved around the world.
"There were palm, myrtle, and mangoe trees growing beside canals where
the clear rushing water rippled along over the bottom of gaily-colored
tiles. Then there were plantations of yucca, the broad-leaved
bread-fruit, lemons, guavas, and figs, with great basins of marble
brimming with water, on which floated lilies white as snow. But,
entrancing as were those avenues of whispering myrtle, orange, and pine,
we drove on through the warm sunlight until near noon, when we arrived
at our destination.
"The coffee-plantation contained a league of land--three miles
square--and was divided into innumerable plats by long avenues that cut
each other at right angles, like streets, extending through the
plantation. These avenues were lined on either side by palms of a
hundred different species, and in their great width of full fifty paces,
and three miles long, they were set in Bermuda-grass, mown like a carpet
of velvet. The squares, however, were carefully cultivated, and no weeds
were visible in the red, mellow soil.
"Next to the row of palms grew a line of orange-trees; then lemons,
almonds, pomegranates, and olives, followed by a row of evergreens of
infinite variety, the remainder of the square being planted to
coffee-trees.
"It was a sight never to be forgotten that unfolded to our view as we
drove down one of those long colonnades of palm, over which the
parasites trailed, linking tree to tree with garlands of scarlet, rose,
and golden blossoms--the snowy orange-flowers contrasting with its
coppery fruit--gloomy pine, spruce, and cypress, with glimpses between
of the coffee-trees loaded with their crimson berries.
"Thousands of birds flitted about, lending animation to the gorgeous
tropical scene,--gaudy parrots, white doves, orioles, and blue-birds;
while myriads of humming-birds of rose and emerald, gold and purple,
wove and flashed among the trees.
"We, who live in these dull northern climes, can not fancy the pictures
of life and color that adorn the forests of tropical America; but as I
sat that Christmas-day amid the Cuban groves, and ate the most luscious
fruits, fresh from the tree, the glorious sunlight sifting down through
the feathery, fern-like palm-leaves, and over all the cloudless blue of
the southern skies, I thought of the snow and ice which wrapped the
hills and meadows of my northern home. But a feeling of longing stole
over me for the brooks, bound by their crystal fetters and sheltered by
the oak-clad hills, the merry jingling sleigh-bells in the frosty air,
and, amid all this wealth of bloom and tropic life, my heart turned
back to the memory of rustic joys in my boyhood's home,--the roaring
fire on the hearth-stone, when the frost-rime crept over the
window-pane; the rushing of the storm-king, as he piled the ghostly
drift without, or fled shrieking by, shaking the gables in his wild
wrath. Then fancy came thronging on with dear faces of the home-folk
that I had not seen for years; and when I awoke, with a start, to the
thought that the ocean rolled between me and my distant home, do not
blame me that a tear-drop went trickling down through the sunlight of
that foreign tropic land.
"After loitering for a few hours among the coffee-trees, we ascended a
mountain to drink of the waters of a famous mineral spring, which gushes
from among the lofty cliffs; and as I stood on the verge of a precipice,
before me there spread a landscape of matchless grandeur,--the wide
savannas with their fields of cane, tobacco, and fruit, the dim city,
begirt with its walls and grim fortresses, and the blue harbor, crowded
with the ships of all nations; while far away to the north, stretching
out, it seemed, to eternity, lay the trackless ocean, dotted with white
winged ships and those gem-like islands, 'The Queen's Gardens.'
"Driving back to the city, we paid a moonlight visit to the tomb of
Columbus. I stood long and silently by the urn where rests all that
remains of the Great Mariner--all save the Columbian spirit, which will
pervade the people of America as long as this continent endures.
"Yes; you and I are actuated by the same spirit that guided the
illustrious pioneers out toward the setting sun--enterprise, ambition,
and energy. As I noted the humble monument, I bitterly recalled the
ingratitude and perfidy of Spain; but when there rose to my mind a
vision of the grand and powerful nations, the splendid cities and happy
homes of the thronging millions from Montreal to Buenos Ayres,--these, I
mused, are the monuments befitting the noble hero, and it matters not
that the lowly urn in the old cathedral holds the ashes of mortality.
"Coming forth into the mellow moonlight, I paused a moment to gather a
spray from the roses and passion-flowers, blooming in dew-drenched
clusters amid the orange and myrtle of the Paseo hard by; and as I stood
drinking, as it were, the odors of that perfume-laden air, afar off
could be heard the sullen boom of the breakers as the sea broke in
thunder on the walls of Moro Castle, while the faint, sweet notes of a
guitar floated out upon the night, mingling with the diapason of old
ocean's roar as it chanted its hymn of eternity on the rocky beach.
"Two weeks later I drove up to my father's gate, through the snow and
ice of a Northern winter. The white drift wrapped the hills and meadows,
and the gurgle of the brook in the sheltered valley sang faint and
muffled within its crystal prison; the dear old cedars bent low under
their white burden, and from the eaves of the time-worn, red brick
homestead, the icicles hung glittering like spears in the frosty light.
"When I left home four years before, I was a smooth-faced boy of twenty,
but while in the mines I had grown a beard like a Turk; and although in
San Francisco I had passed under the sway of the barber, who despoiled
me of more locks than Samson ever lost, yet enough remained to complete
my disguise; and I was smiling at the surprise I had in store for the
home-folks, when the door opened, and lo! Amy came flying down the path
with such an outcry that all the family came rushing upon the scene, Amy
saying, between smiles and tears:--
"'Oh, George, you thought we wouldn't know you; but I was watching, and
when you paused at the gate and looked so wistfully towards the house, I
knew--oh, it must be you!'
"Ah well--such a day will never come again! How I followed mother and
Amy about, or sat in the kitchen with father on one hand and Dick on the
other--all of us talking at once! Such a homecoming is known in all of
its keen delight by only the long-absent miner or returning soldier. And
the dinner which followed, where all the culinary treasures of earth,
sky, land, and sea were laid under contribution, was a meal which caused
me to say they certainly meant to stuff me as a curiosity, after the
manner of a taxidermist.
"'There must be some means devised to keep you at home hereafter,'
replied my mother.
"I said I was through with rambling; for I had brought enough money home
for the whole family--unless we indulged in such dinners every day.
"Dick replied with a laugh that 'wealthy people could certainly afford
salt for the potatoes.'
"'Oh, that is not a luxury, for I find it in both the fruit and coffee,'
replied my father.
"In the evening I took Dick's grays and sleigh to drive over to Mary's
home, and at starting was charged by Amy to be sure and bring Mary over
to the 'wool-picking' at Widow Hawley's--a semi-festive meeting of the
best society in that primitive but happy neighborhood. Promising to do
my best to meet Dick and her that evening at the designated place of
festivity, I touched the horses, and shot down the drive just in time to
dodge the slipper, which, with a gay laugh, she hurled at my back; and
as I rounded the curve of the stone wall into the highway, she and Dick
cheered me very encouragingly.
"As I drove along the sparkling, crusted road, the west was still
blushing faintly, and the moon peeped through the snowy tree-tops, that
drooped in feathery sprays of frost and ice, sweeping the drifts below
with their creaking, rattling branches, and the stars winked knowingly
in the clear, cold sky as my sleigh-bells awoke the jingling echoes
among the well-remembered hills that flanked the valley on either side.
"When I reached the door of Mary's dwelling the windows threw out a
ruddy light from the great fire-place, where the flames leaped and
crackled, and showers of sparks flashed up the wide chimney, while back
and forth in the flickering light tripped Mary, singing as she spun on
the roaring wheel.
"At my rap the wheel ceased its hum, a light footfall was heard,
and--well, I'll just close the door, as it was only a private
matter--but in a moment I was kissing her mother, who hugged me almost
as hard--that is, she and the old gentleman did--no--no--I mean to say
that Towser and all the rest of the--There--there I go again"--said the
colonel, joining in the merriment of his hearers, who were shouting with
laughter at the absurd flounders of the colonel's narrative; but when
the last giggle of Grace and Rob had subsided, and cries of "hear,
hear," resounded on every hand, then our friend Warlow resumed, as he
cast a fond look toward his wife, who had been busy at the camp-fire
preparing the evening meal while the shades of twilight were thickening
among the trees.
"I only wished to say that I was highly gratified with my reception on
that happy evening, and Mary and I were soon on the road to the
residence of Mrs. Hawley, where we found a merry throng of old friends;
and, after such a greeting as only one who meets his childhood's friends
after long years of absence can appreciate, we were allotted a quiet
corner, and our share of the evening's labor."
At this moment a summons to supper was heard, and the party adjourned to
the camp-fire, to discuss the savory prairie-chicken and quail on toast,
with which Mrs. Warlow celebrated the close of that Sabbath-day.