Picturesque Mexico [pp. 307-318]

PICTURESQUE MEXICO.
Under a mesquite-bush by the wayside one may see an Indian
woman scouring a tall earthen jar, preparatory to swinging it,
fresh filled from the well, upon her shoulder in the old Biblical
fashion; under another a couple of wrinkled crones are washing
clothes in a shallow ditch, and spreading the wet pieces upon the
cactus-plants to dry. Now and again a drowsy little tienda
shows one or two unhurried customers at its narrow counter;
or a corner cantine has its inevitable handful of quiet pulquedrinkers; or a silent brown group, their glowing eyes alone
showing trace of excitement, gathers around a pair of fighting
cocks. The sky above is blue as Colorado; the air is pure and
sweet with the softness of a late May day; and between you
and the matter-of-fact, work-a-day world you left a few hours
ago are a thousand miles of distance and a lifetime of difference.
Every step into the new territory to the southward deepens
the Oriental impression which this first glimpse at people and
country makes upon one. The table-lands, separated by long,
parallel mountain chains, now approaching and now receding,
are full of infinite variety. Aside from the loveliness of the
heights themselves, which, rich in mineral dyes and exquisite in
outline, make a fresh beauty for eager eyes at each opening of
the landscape, an hundred forms of interest and novelty offer
a constant series of surprises. It is now a lacienda-one of those
enormous properties covering square miles of country, divided
into villages and hamlets, rich in corrals and sheepfolds, watered
by streams, luxuriant in gardens and fields of springing wheat.
Across the plains mounted shepherds drive flocks of white, silkenfleec:d goats and immense droves of cattle; long lines of trees
follow the curves of the water-courses; the dome of a church
rises amid the foliage; groups of burros and horses follow their
Indian keepers through the fields; and the manifold industries
belonging to a great and rich estate gather about the central courtyard, with its hollow square surrounded by massive stone buildings. Or it is a break in the hills, through which one looks
down into some exquisite valley, deep with purple shadow,
faintly luminous with dreamy light, and a glint of water shooting
like a silver arrow through the pale green foliage. Or it is a
silent city far away on the horizon, its domes and towers tinted in
soft shades of pink and blue and warm amber, its tiled roofs flashing, its low gray walls, with masses of drooping trees behind,
barely rising from the white level of the plain, like an oasis in the
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