Music Trade Review -- © mbsi.org, arcade-museum.com -- digitized with support from namm.org
THE MUSIC TRADE REVIEW.
From a Traveler's
Note Book.
{Continued
from page
j.)
A well known military man in the City
of Mexico told me a good story the other
day. He said:
" I had an amusing experience several
years ago with an old friend who had spent
many years in California, and had acquired
a good knowledge of the Spanish language,
which he was now putting to good use in
the service of the United States. He visit-
ed with several of us, and while here the
strange notion took him to try a few
glasses of tequila. He said that although
he had seen others drink it, he had never
tasted it, and now had made up his mind
to give it a trial. I tried to dissuade him,
but he was very firm in his ways, and, his
mind once made up, I found it impossible
to change it. He drank three or four
glasses of the stuff, and, although it made
his eyes water and he coughed a good deal,
he declared that it was fine. I had some
business to attend to, and after being gone
perhaps half an hour, returned and found
Col. F. out in front of the "cantina," lean-
ing over the hitching rack arguing with his
friends who were trying to get him to go
back over the river. As I came up I heard
him say, "No, gentlemen; I am not intoxi-
cated. In fact, I believe that my brain was
never clearer than now. My head, as I say,
gentlemen, is all right, but my legs are in
a devil of a fix, due to a sudden weakness
for which I cannot account."
I added my expostulations to theirs, and
received the politest of answers, couched in
elegant language. Indeed, it seemed that
the drunker he became the more elaborate
were his phrases. At last we bluntly told
him that he must come with us willingly,
or we would take him by force. He con-
sented under one condition, which was that
we would follow the most unfrequented
streets, so as not to be in danger of meet-
ing any of his acquaintances, who might, as
he expressed it, "form an erroneous opinion
as to his sobriety based upon the unac-
countable debility exhibited by his lower
extremities." All went well until we
reached the river, and then, as we turned
up stream to reach the bridge, the Colonel
sulked again, and declared that the bridge
was worst of all, and that over it he would
not go. We asked him how he expected to
go home, and he said nothing would be
easier, as he simply intended to wade over.
We explained to him that in the channel the
river was seven feet deep, and he was in no
condition to swim, to which he answered:
"Then, gentlemen, we will sit down and
open a jack pot to pass away the time until
the water abates; or, in other words, the
river runs down a little." We tried argu-
ments, pleas, and threats, all to no purpose.
Go over the bridge he would not, and that
ended it. At last one of the party went
back to the military "cuartel" and got a
big Mexican cavalryman and a stout mule,
and we put the Colonel on the animal with
the soldier on horseback to convey him
over. Slowly, and with the air of a con-
queror, the Colonel rode down into the
water, and everything seemed to be going
well until just before the couple reached
the deep water, when he halted and tried
to turn back, swearing that the river was
running north, and every one on the bank
would soon be inundated. The big trooper
took him through, however, and he was
finally landed in his room at the St. Charles.
After he had been carefully put to bed he
suddenly turned to one of the party, say-
ing:
"Major, will you do me the favor to stop
that clock?"
"Why, Colonel?" asked the Major.
"Well, it only ticks once in a half an
hour, and I get so tired waiting for 'tack'
after it has said 'tick,' and so nervous
thinking of the pendulum hanging so long
in that unusual position that I can't sleep."
The clock was, of course, not doing any
such thing, but it was stopped, and the
Colonel went to sleep. The man who in-
vites Colonel F. to "take a little tequila"
with him now gets a decided "No," and a
dreamy look comes into the old soldier's
eyes that is not altogether calm as he in-
voluntarily places both hands to his temple
and murmurs: "Once was enough for me. "
There are those who fancy that Mexico is all
romance, rags and sunshine, but let me
assure them that the food and drink, at
least, are stern realities to those who at-
tempt to familiarize themselves with them
with undue haste.
A fellow traveler, an artist, on the road
from Vera Cruz up to Orizaba, related a
story to me of his first encounter with
tequila. It was in a town near Orizaba.
In the morning when the mists from his
brain had sufficiently cleared away he
looked out. It seemed to him as if an
Astec over the sun was peering at him
7
" T H E RECUMBENT MULE GAVE A SPRING.'
around the snow-clad summit of the vol-
cano Orizaba, played red, blue and green
lightning alternately, while huge chunks
of melted lava came tumbling down the
mountain side.
I laughed so heartily over the story that
he drew out his note book and roughly
sketched for me the enclosed, which I am
able to present to my readers, and warn
them against an encounter with tequila.
* *
*
Let me suggest to my friends who intend
visiting Mexico to go by the way of New
Orleans. A visit to this historical city is
always full of interest, and from New
Orleans there are excellent railroad facilities
which connect with any of the roads which
lead to Mexico City. I refer to the South-
ern Pacific, over which railroad from New
Orleans easy connection can be made with
the Mexican National Road at Laredo, or
the two other roads which lead to the City
of Mexico at Eagle Pass or El Paso. The
service on the Southern Pacific is excellent.
This statement will be endorsed by any of
my fellow travelers. On the lines of this
road are many interesting historical spots
which are of great interest to the tourist.
By all means be sure and travel over the
"Sunset Route."
* *
*
" T H R E E DOCILE MULES."
from beyond the mountains. Below in the
valley were three docile mules, who seemed
utterly oblivious to the fact that anything
existed in this world besides themselves.
They were in a wide valley between two
mountains of considerable height which
led up to the volcano capped with eternal
snow. He said suddenly the recumbent
mule gave a spring, and it was no exag-
geration to say that that mule cleared in a
single leap a distance of some eighteen or
twenty miles between the mountains, clear
across the valley and over his head, while
I was waiting at Laredo for the train to
start, which was to take me to the Alamo
City. There was gathered quite an assem-
bly on the platform. Reminiscences were
being exchanged by several cattle men.
One gave a startling description of the
way in which he had killed two "greasers"
a short time before.
"That reminds me," broke in the young-
est member of the party, "of a tussle I had
with Old Roman Nose, back in the seven-
ties, when I was riding for Jim Peters, of
the 'T bar C.' One day I was sent to hunt
a bunch of steers that had disappeared
about three days before.
" I went north about ten miles, without
seeing any sign of them, and was about to
turn back, when along came an Indian,
making straight for me, through the sage
brush. I pulled my gun, 'cause in those
days I never lost a chance to kill a redskin.
But this one acted as though he had some-
thing to say, and I concluded not to kill
him until he had had his say, because I
thought he might know something about
the cattle.
"Well, he had a new pair of buffalo hide