The Middlebury register. [volume] (Middlebury, Vt.) 1850-1882, 1877-01-27
MUSTANG GREY.
By ELLA ADAMS.

Previous TO the breaking out of The
Mexican war in 1S45, was making {
tour of observation through the western
portion of Texas, looking for an eligi
bic location on which to commence my
career as stock raiser. The summer
season had passed away, and October
with its hazy beauties fingered upon the
prairies, the low trees and tender mes.
quite foliage, with softness and grace
that gave charm to all that the eye
chanced to rest upon.
One afternoon, when the sun was
lowering itself In the west, leaving in
the valleys shadows that the art of the
painter could hardly equal for softness
and variety of shades. passed through
historic Goliad, small village on the
limpid San Antonio, and spurred my
horse on toward the old Spanish mis-
sion, which reared itself as some ANTIQUE
structure, link between the living
present and the dead past. As rode
up the hill leading from the river, at
that time of the year fordable, the mis-
sion attracted my full attention. II was
almost square, built of rough stone, and
commanded view of the whole coun-
try. The walls were thick, windows
few, narrow and barred with rods OF
iron; and from the sides and ends, In
tiers, were portfolios, from which, In
former days, the .muzzles of guns peered
forth at hostile men.
1t was at this spot-around this mis-
sion - where Fannin and his gallant
soldiers were slaughtered by the treach-
erous Mexicans. The river, the waters
of which look milky in their purity, that
day were tinged with eddying pools,
leaving the incarnation which distin-
guishes the coroIla of the rose. Dis
mounting from my horse, my mind took
in at glance all That occurred on the
day of the massacre, and multitude of
emotions thronged my breast. What q
change had taken place since that event.
full period. Instead of armed men, bear
ing lance, sword and carbine, children
played around the low, broad door, and
up from the door was vending its way
In the shadows of the hill and struggling
carts-fifty or more-two wheeled ve-
hicles, and the small animals yoked
with wooden bars from one to the 9TH
er, on the fore part of their sturdy heads.
The drivers, vaqueros, were costumed
wore upon their heads the inevitable
sombrero. AS the Mexicans goaded
their animals with long poles, in which
rested long, sharp pieces of iron, up the
activity, and on across the prairies, my
eyes commenced to take in objects that
surrounded me.
The mission had been transformed
into n caravansary, and around its door
played innumerable Mexican children,
and dogs of the half-wolf species squat
tediin lazy attitudes in patches of sun
shine that lay around. Groups of Mex
lean men and women lounged about,
talking in their low, musical Spanish
patois, smoking cigarettes and blowing
the light clouds Of vapor above their
heads in fantastic shapes and spiral COL
umns.
A short distance to the right of this
group, on square stone that projected
from the mission, forming the centre of
cross, stood young girl looking ab-
stractedly toward Goliad, the white
houses of which peeped through the
trees, and the quaint towers reflected
the soft light rs 1t came from the west.
She was apparently thirteen years of
age, dressed in black, and about her
shoulders was the usual Mexican man.
tie, which dropped down, and lay in
careless rolls, resembling drapery
around statue. A foot. small and del
icate, arched exquisitely, and covered
with the Mexican gaiter, protruded
from under the folds of her dress, as it
was disturbed by the winds of the eve
ming that crept in gusts up the valley.
Her hair fell over her shoulders in ail-
burn riuglets, and as the wind softly
lifted them the waning sunlight shone
through their golden folds with an inef-
fable halo.
Who could she be! 1 had not yet
seen her face. Walking slowly TO where
she stood, l looked for her to turn and
confront me; but she did not. The pro-
file contour of the face wore perfect
shape, but there was q seemingly cold
beauty about it.
"Senorita," ventured to say, "this
Is charming evening"
She turned her face full upon me.
was almost startled at the expression of
the eyes, looking from face that was
beautiful to perfection. They were
gray, but unfeelingly cold.
eyes," she answered, and her voice
rang with metallic sound.
"Do you reside in this strange plscer p
l again yentured.
eyes"
No more; that was all the answer l
received. Now, am not inquisitive.
The blood of New England is not in my
veins, but that which coursed the arte-
ries of the Huguenots; yet was de-
termined TO learn more about her.
"Do you reside near the mission,
missr asked persuasively, bending
my head until my face almost touched
her golden ringlets.
She turned her body, with back to
me, holding her position firmly on the
square rock, and her figure took pose
that sculptor would have admired,
the folds of her dress and gown FORM
ing drapery no art could equal, and shot
her arm straight out, and the finger of
her brown, tapering hand pointed up
the western slope TO the top of stone
house that just displayed itself from
among the deep growth of mesquite
branches intervening. No word In re-
ply escaped her. She only relapsed In
TO her old attitude and looked toward
the village.
"SenorW
Turning, a youthful Mexican was
standing near me. He beckoned me 10
follow him. obeyed reluctantly, as
the youthful being who stood on the
broad stone cross was really beginning
TO become of great interest to me.
"Senor," and the Mexican gracefully
took from his mouth cigarette, "she
will not converse with you.n
.'Why% l replied, in apparent sur
prise.
"She will converse with no stran.
gers; nor will she tell her story" and
a careless smile fitted across his brown
face. Zone year ago to-day, just al
daybreak, the people In the plaza at Go
body of men rode through the town
evidently In pursuit of some one. Or
running from their houses this girl wal
found wounded In the shoulder, but she
would reveal nothing, nor WouId she