that were to graduate into coffee beans, trees bare of everything except great yellow suns, the Flower of God, that fascinated one's gaze these and countless other surprises followed one another; and then would come a whole grove netted over with morning glories in full bloom. Amid scenes like these our exhausted troops quickly regained their spirits.[1]
Toward the end of the march on the eleventh, when about thirty-seven miles from Vera Cruz, the troops crossed a branch of the Antigua, and soon came to the river itself. In the triangular space thus bounded rose a hill crowned with an old fort.[2] Here stood the national bridge, a magnificent structure more than fifty feet high and nearly a quarter of a mile in length, commanding romantic views of the rapid stream winding through towering vistas of luxuriant vegetation. On leaving the bridge the road made a sharp turn to the left at the foot of a high and very steep bluff; and it seemed as if a battery planted at the top of the bluff, as La Vega's had been, might stop an army until overpowered with siege guns. But Canalizo had been wiser than his chief, for there were fords above and below and cross-roads in the rear, that made it possible to turn the position. So amidst a wondrous illumination from glowworms and fireflies, the troops made their third camp here in peace.[3]
Beyond this point the influence of Canalizo could be seen. The bamboo huts thatched with palm-leaves were all vacant and empty. Scarcely one living creature could be seen except flitting birds. These, however, still abounded: parrots, macaws, hawks, eagles, orioles, humming-birds, mocking-birds, cardinals brighter than cardinals, cranes larger than cranes, talkative chachalacas, toucans as vociferous as their bills were huge every color from indigo to scarlet, and every note from the scream to the warble; and the same ocean of green still rolled its vast billows, warmed and brightened by the same golden sun.[4]
At the end of this march, about thirteen miles from the national bridge, the highway narrowed and pitched down a long, steep, winding descent, with overhanging trees and rocks on one side and a precipice on the other, as if making for the centre of the globe. Then it crossed Río del Plan, and came to a small, irregular opening, where a few scattered huts could be
