The Brunswick times. [volume] (Brunswick, Ga.) 188?-1900, 1897-11-14
EsrADo DE GUERRERO, MHxlco, Oct. ?

that is beautiful in nature surrounding us. We
have an unobstructed view in every direction
of pillows and pillows of mountains, green and
substantial looking in the foreground, and melt
ing from vivid dark blue to paler and paler
tints of azure in the dim distance.
We know that to our right is spread out the
great Pacific, and turning the other way we
can in fancy descry the shores of suffering Cuba
and our own dear Florida. The old home in
Georgia seems long ways off this morning
with this limitless sea of mountains interven-
ing.
The heavenly home that is above appears
much nearer and easier to reach. Only pair
of wings and q little vauting motion we have
learned in climbing these Sierras, and we are
surely with the happy spirits who have escaped
the terrestrial life and body with their sore linn
itations. There is the peace of heaven in the
air, the subdued voice If nature might be the
rustic of angels wings; this buoyant ozone is
surely more potent than the OBTAINING force of
gravity! But the wings are not in sight, and
we have not the faith to start on an untried
road. We can only remain poor earth clods
looking to the doctors of science and doctors of
divinity to quit contending and unite on the way
and the means for making the journey to the
celestial spheres. So we content ourselves this
morning with our heavenly spot on earth Pena
Grande. We think of the bald and bleak Rock
les, with snow storms and billiards flowing
across them; even en- lesser heighths of our blue
Alleghanies and Catskills we remember the
chill days of October with an occasional hot
and sutry noon most uncomfortable. Here on
Pena Grande an October morning grows into
noon and melts into the glow of evening with
no change in the delicious, cool freshness of the
air--only the changing shadows mark the prog
ress of King Sol.
We are at an elevation of 5000 feet, and yet
the ground is thick carpet of grass, ferns and
flowers; the resinous odor of mammoth pine
trees is in the air, and over US the cuchara-en-
ciua Spoon oak) spreads its broad boughs as a
canopy. We have walked over vivid patches
Of the Wild marigold that fairly riots in frag
rancs and so luxuriant in bloom that at dis
tanct seems a coverlet of yellow silk SHIN
mer 10 the sunshine and the Hover is infn-
iIely Aore delicate and beautiful than its cult
waited sister in the states. Among the huge
rocks that mark the crest of the Pena are clus-
tered ferns, flowers and MOSES in such variety
and beauty as would fill botanisSs soul with
delight.
On the dizzy heights Of the highest boulders
we have stood and looked out over the noun
famous world below us. 1t is living, breath
ingcanyas Of green, played upon by the lights
and shadows of the southern sun, who here
makes his perpetual home, though shorn of all
ferceness in the thin air of this great elevation.
Many miles away we see the Juantla river, a
shining thread among the mountains. 1t is for
the banks Of this stream to furnish the way of
mgress to the iron horse that we hope will ere
long penetrate these mountain Businesses. Here
and there, on little plateaus, we can see the
ranches of the Pinto Indians, who are the sole
zero since the Spanish were forced to fly the
country and desert their mines. In the nearest
of these ranches appear fields of grain, groves
of trees and plants in rows, that are doubtless
orange, lemon, pineapple and ayocates, since
it is these fruits the ranchers bring to our camp
every week.
We are too far away to discover signs of hu-
man life in these rural homes, which we do not
regret as the average Mexican, picturesque as
he is in his white clothes and red bls nket, is a
blot on his beautiful country. This being Sun
day and market day, he and his neighbors are
congregated on the plaza Of San Nicholas del
Orc, buying and selling, cGntending over the
pennies and throwing coppers in their small
gambling games. We are even, for once out Of
the sound of the clang OF Mexico's most unmus-
zeal church bells, and stranger still, not spire
or dome is in sight. For all these reasons it
seems truly a Sabbath day up here on Pena
Grande, where every lovely flower breathes an
incense to Its Maker, the leaves murmur gentle
olisohs anu tuc puI6s ak VI uSuNSh
plays caressingly over us.
The little ledge below us, on which nestles the
cluster of houses that forms our Mexican home,
appears near, and often during our six months
residence there we have started to climb to our
present eminence, but it ever receded before
our advance, as mountain heights have way
OF doing.
This morning our good horses did the greater
part of the climbing for US, and they are now
tethered on a slope some hundred feet below us
happily munchng grass and flowers. The lat
ter seems rather dainty food TO be culled by a
creature supposedly blind to beauty as a condi-
ment, but when horse has worked his way up
Guerrero tran he has earned the choicest
meal the mountain side can spread out for his
refreshment.
Save the fowls of the air nothing can surpass
the Guerrero horse and his master in scaling the
perpendicular. Their trails are over all these