LIBRARY 
 
 OK THK 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA. 
 
 Deceived 
 ^Accessions No. 
 
 JAN 1895 . i8g 
 
 f^^Li^^m^7tR|^ 
 
u i / .1 
 
 

APACHE-LAND. 
 
 BY 
 
 CHARLES D. POSTON, 
 
 OF ARIZONA. 
 
 
 SAN FRANCISCO: 
 A. L. BANCROFT & COMPANY, PRINTERS. 
 
 1878. 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year x8 7 8, 
 
 BY CHARLES D. POSTON, 
 In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 
 
* 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 THERE is not a fictitious name nor a fictitious character 
 in this production. Every incident is founded on fact, 
 which leaves the author but little opportunity for elabora 
 tion, even if he had the capacity. 
 
 It was written in a mud hut, on a dirt floor; without the 
 advantage of a single book of reference, with no more 
 knowledge of metrical composition than a donkey has of 
 a yard-stick; and goes into the world a simple child of 
 the desert, like the author. 
 
 My first personal acquaintance with Apache-Land was in 
 the year 1854, when I made a journey along the eastern 
 coast of the Gulf of California, reaching the Gila river 
 near the Pima villages, and thence by Fort Yuma to San 
 Francisco. Ten years later, in the year 1864, when acting 
 as Superintendent of Indian Affairs; for Arizona, an 
 extended tour was made in the. southern portion of the 
 Territory, accompanied by my lamented friend, the Hon 
 orable J. Ross Browne, who was obliged to leave me at 
 the Pima villages; and I was deprived of the pleasure of 
 his society in the country north of : the Gila z and the public 
 of his inimitable sketches and graphic descriptions. 
 
 After Mr. Browne s departure I made an expedition to 
 the headwaters of the Rio Verde, accompanied by fifty 
 
4 Introduction. 
 
 Pima and Maricopa Indians, two Opata boys that I 
 had reared, and my Negro cook, Jim Berry (of blessed 
 memory). The Indians were armed with muskets 
 and forty rounds each, which they shot away at 
 coyotes, burro rabbits, crows, and an occasional fleeting 
 deer. It has ever since been a doubt in my mind whether 
 the friendly Indians would not have run away if the 
 Apaches had come down upon us; in which event I 
 should have been left in a very ridiculous position, to say 
 the least of it. In descending the Rio Verde, we passed 
 many cave houses in the rocks on the side of mountains, 
 apparently selected for their inaccessibility, and a little 
 above the confluence of the Verde with the Rio Salado, 
 the ruins of three cities; the central one of which retained 
 the foundations of a very curiously constructed fortifica 
 tion. 
 
 The entrance of the Salado at this junction, from this 
 visit and other circumstances, has remained impressed 
 upon my memory as a wild, weird scene, and I have often 
 desired to explore its mysterious canons. The country 
 north of the Gila, between the Verde and the Rio Grande, 
 is yet comparatively a terra incognita, the home of the 
 Apache, and the hope of the miner. 
 
 The route over which I passed had been traversed by 
 the Spanish expedition of Coronado three hundred and 
 twenty-two years before, and a graphic description of the 
 country had been given by Castefiada, the historian of the 
 expedition; somewhat more to be relied upon than the 
 fantastic and rather romantic account of Father Mark of 
 Nice, the chaplain; so that although the ground was novel 
 to me, it was nothing new, and is well known to many 
 hunters, trappers, and prospectors, who have unfortunately 
 left no history of their wanderings or of themselves. 
 
 After an absence of ten years in foreign countries, the 
 
Introduction. 5 
 
 government of the United States (through the influence of 
 a personal friend) has honored me with the appointment 
 of register of the land office at Florence, at a salary of 
 five hundred dollars a year, as a recompense for my 
 arduous pioneering, and the loss of an ample estate by 
 confiscation and robbery. As there is little or no business 
 in the land office, I could not conscientiously continue to 
 draw the salary punctually every quarter, in installments of 
 one hundred and twenty-five dollars each, without making 
 some effort to show my appreciation of the beneficent in 
 tentions of the government. 
 
 As the land office at Florence is only allowed one hun 
 dred dollars a year for rent, contingent expenses, station 
 ery, fuel, lights, etc., a very small margin remains for ob 
 taining accurate information about a territory containing 
 over a hundred thousand square miles of land. I there 
 fore proposed to the Major-General commanding this 
 Department, to make a reconnoissance of the Salado, 
 from the junction of the Verde to Camp Apache. The 
 general courteously replied that "the proposed investi 
 gations, in their bearing upon public interests, are be 
 lieved to be capable of beneficiary results," and ordered 
 the organization of the expedition as requested, with 
 ample escort and the engineering facilities necessary to 
 determine the value of one of the principal streams of 
 the territory. This reconnoissance will attract considerable 
 attention at St. Louis, and may accelerate our connection 
 with the heart of the United States, where we should look 
 for capital for our mining enterprises, as well as for our 
 commercial supplies. 
 
 Having been reared near the banks of Salt river, in 
 Kentucky, and having ascended the classic stream, polit 
 ically, in Arizona, life would be incomplete without making 
 an effort to explore the stream which has gained so wide a 
 
6 Introduction. 
 
 reputation, both among frontiersmen and politicians, and 
 if the expedition results in a benefit to the former, it will 
 be a gratification to have done something for a class of 
 men who are worthy of the highest admiration as the pio 
 neers of civilization; and as for the latter, they will take 
 care of themselves, as they make politics an ".industrial 
 pursuit." 
 
 CHARLES D. POSTON. 
 
 FLORENCE, ARIZONA, 1877. 
 
APACHE-LAND. 
 
 APOCHRYPHAL. 
 
 On the Sunday before starting, as the expedition was resting in camp, on the 
 left or southern bank of the Salado, a carriage arrived by the Florence road, 
 containing two women ; one in the habit of the Sisters of the Sacred Heart at 
 Mt. St. Josephs, near Tucson; the other a Pima Indian, Heh-Wul-Vopuey (the 
 Running Wind) . 
 
 The Sister (Seraphine) bore traces of more than ordinary beauty, of that 
 peculiar combination of black hair and blue eyes called in Spanish "Morisco." 
 She desired to see the commanding general, and was conducted to his quarters, 
 where the following conversation (principally carried on by the lady) was writ 
 ten down by the stenographer of the expedition: 
 
 Your enterprise we much approve. 
 
 To join it we would dearly love, 
 
 If laws and customs can afford 
 
 Two useful women space on board. 
 
 It may seem like a mystery, 
 
 But wait and hear my history : 
 
 I beg you kindly grant me grace 
 
 In simple measure here to trace 
 
 The strangest life beneath the sun, 
 
 Which brings me here a wandering nun. 
 
Apache- Land. 
 
 I may not claim, without a boast, 
 
 Possession of beauty I have lost. 
 
 But blood s the genealogical tree 
 
 Of nature s true nobility; 
 
 And that which courses through my veins, 
 
 Came down through not ignoble reins. 
 
 My Spanish father Hidalgo stock 
 
 My mother stole from Tangiers rock. 
 
 Hidalgo grafted on the Moor, 
 
 You must admit cannot be poor. 
 
 Born in Spanish palaces 
 Guarded by Spanish jalousies, 
 Watched by my father s sable spoil, 
 Charged with this care instead of toil, 
 My childhood passed apace. 
 In care of kindly Afric race, 
 Untainted by the world s engafia, 
 I grew in health in fair Espafia, 
 Content, as far as life unfurled, 
 To live in such a pretty world. 
 
 But ne er since Jason sought the Golden Fleece, 
 
 Has sailor ever found domestic peace; 
 
 Since Ulysses lingered on the love-bound shore, 
 
 Have sailors loved the sea far more and more. 
 
 Since bold Columbus crossed the Spanish main, 
 
 Loved wife and child have ever plead in vain; 
 
 And sailors vows, like sands upon sea-shore, 
 
 A moment last and flit forever more. 
 
 The tide obliterates lines drawn on sand, 
 
 As time wears out vows made upon the land. 
 
Apache-Land. 
 
 The orange blossoms of my Spanish home 
 Were changed for ocean s less enticing foam. 
 My Moorish mother and our little store 
 Were next in sight off Afric s sandy shore, 
 Where Congo freights, and esculent of palm, 
 Shield traders traffic in the sons of Ham; 
 Where oil and ivory offer fair pretense 
 That human traffic is but innocence; 
 Where shady palms on Afric s muddy waters 
 Shield horrid sales of Afric s sons and daughters. 
 
 The sable cargo stowed beneath the hatches, 
 
 And nice precaution taken with the watches, 
 
 In case a British cruiser might be spying 
 
 Into the condition of the dead and dying. 
 
 Our sails were spread to catch a friendly breeze; 
 
 To .waft to deeper water wider seas. 
 
 The sun uprose next morning red as blood, 
 
 With angry beams pursued us o er the flood, 
 
 Pouring his fiery darts upon the bark 
 
 Till his fierce rays were shielded by the dark. 
 
 The angry winds lashed ocean s seething foam, 
 That her fair bosom should be made the home 
 Of such vile freight, while, poor and harmless, I 
 Could nothing do except lament and cry. 
 Oil, ivory, ebony were near eternity, 
 When love and instinct of maternity, 
 With inspiration of some mother wit, 
 Perchance remembrance of some holy writ, 
 Bids us pour oil upon the troubled waves, 
 And thus a husband, child and cargo saves. 
 
i o Apache- Land. 
 
 A month or more, and lovely palms 
 In Cuban harbor spread their arms 
 To welcome toilers of the sea, 
 For sea- worn toilers sure were we; 
 And by the nurslings of the sun 
 Ensconced, we fired our signal gun, 
 When swarthy planters came on board, 
 Disbursing free their golden hoard, 
 For men and women whose only crime, 
 Was birthrig ht in a hotter clime. 
 
 The gold doubloons were brought on board, 
 
 A sightly and a goodly hoard. 
 
 My father took me in his arms, 
 
 And pointing out my mother s charms, 
 
 Embraced us both, and said that he 
 
 Was Spanish Hercules; and she 
 
 Was Afric s Queen, and that the twain 
 
 Had twined two worlds in love again, 
 
 And I the knot that firmly bound, 
 
 The pillars from base to top all round.* 
 
 Away again from Cuban coasts, 
 And Spanish laws, and Spanish boasts, 
 Our prow towards the Spanish main, 
 Our fleet-winged courser s free again, 
 And Orinoco s mouth is past, 
 As down the main she s flying fast, 
 Till fair Brazil is on the bow, 
 And Rio s harbor entered now; 
 Fair city of the Western Sea, 
 Braganza s Duke is proud of thee. 
 
 *See the pillars of Hercules on Spanish and Mexican coins. 
 
Apache-Land. 1 1 
 
 Away again, our bark struts proud 
 As peacock showing to a crowd; 
 Her sails are spread in wanton glee, 
 For every soul on board is free. 
 Adown the main, like flying swan, 
 She rocks, and rolls, and gambols on, 
 Bowing to every line of coast, 
 And tossing foam upon the lost, 
 Till Flores Island comes in view, 
 Then anchors in Pernambuco. 
 
 Refreshed again with ample stores, 
 
 We leave the last Atlantic shores ; 
 
 Our course is bent for Falkland s Isles, 
 
 To gather one of fortune s smiles, 
 
 Around the Cape of Storms to steer, 
 
 With sextant and chronometer. 
 
 The stormy cape at last is past, 
 
 Of ice and snow we ve seen the last ; 
 
 And now upon Pacific waves, 
 
 Her bow and stern our good bark laves. 
 
 For Juan s Island, dear to me 
 From early childish history, 
 Our prow is set ; our sails flow on 
 Towards the golden setting sun, 
 Impatient, all in youthful glee, 
 To wander on the sands, and see 
 If Friday s track remains in sand, 
 Or Crusoe still lives on the land ; 
 But Friday s track is washed away, 
 And Crusoe s dead this many a day. 
 
1 2 Apache-Land. 
 
 Tahiti s Islands next are seen, 
 
 Rising like mountains capped with green, 
 
 And streams are purling through the flowers, 
 
 Like music warbling in nature s bowers ; 
 
 But Christian and his band are gone, 
 
 And there remains no living one 
 
 To tell us how or when they went, 
 
 Or how their span of life was spent ; 
 
 So these illusions fleet like youth, 
 
 And leave us only naked truth. 
 
 The Sandwich Islands next were reached, 
 
 Where Captain Cook s good ships were beached 
 
 And natives feasted wild and high 
 
 Pacific anthropophagi. 
 
 From scenes like these we turn away, 
 
 And steer our bark for far Cathay, 
 
 Where civilization makes her boast 
 
 That she was found; but never lost; 
 
 For Japan s seas, whose beauty chains 
 
 The wildest ranger of the mains. 
 
 " Away, away o er bounding main." 
 But this is sung, and sung again, 
 By men the latchet of whose shoe 
 I am not worthy to undo. 
 Therefore I ll spare you all the pains 
 Of following me o er the mains 
 Then Fusi-Yami s towering height 
 Is the first of Asiatic sight 
 That greets the toiler of the sea, 
 Or junketeers from the Yang tze. 
 
Apache-Land. 13 
 
 The inland sea of fair Japan 
 
 Is fairest scene bestowed on man, 
 
 And here forever one might linger; 
 
 But for the warning old Time s finger, 
 
 Pointing the courses of the sun 
 
 That circle ere his race is run: 
 
 But for the idol s placid face 
 
 That speaks unto the human race: 
 
 Prepare ye for eternity, 
 
 Time is a fiction I AM HE! 
 
 The palm, the palm, the joyful palm, 
 God s type of all that s pure and calm. 
 It stretches forth its shady leaves, 
 And welcome to the traveler gives. 
 The nursling of the broiling sun, 
 It trembles when his course is run, 
 And under shadow of the night 
 Hears tales of love, and war, and fight ; 
 Ever compassionate to man, 
 It shelters him and makes his fan. 
 
 On Congo s coast the same flag floats, 
 
 It covers many suspicious boats ; 
 
 And here on fringfe of flowery land, 
 
 Just where the sea parts from the sand, 
 
 Where palm-trees shelter lovely vale, 
 
 Floats the great flag of Portugale ; 
 
 From heights where great Camoens sung, 
 
 The banner of his country hung ; 
 
 In harbor of beautiful Macoa, 
 
 Our bark and crew seek shelter now. 
 
1 4 Apache-Land. 
 
 Here, Cross and Dragon face to face 
 With enemies of race to race, 
 Three hundred years have lived to see 
 The trade in men, and silk, and tea, 
 And carnivals of human crime, 
 Which all the annals of old time, 
 And records of old revelry, 
 Could scarcely match in devilry; 
 And still the flag of Christ floats high, 
 And flouts against the Chinese sky. 
 
 Here, too, in this delicious clime, 
 Man reckons little of the time; 
 The gifts of nature freely given 
 Make him forget all thoughts of heaven ; 
 The orange groves that fringe the land 
 Drop fruits as golden as the sand, 
 And flowers as fragrant as can be, 
 Float perfume o er the Chinese sea, 
 An atmosphere so pure and bright 
 That day is always turned to night. 
 
 The sampans dancing on the waters 
 Are filled with China s olive daughters, 
 With music of the string aiffl gong, 
 That rival fabled mermaid s song. 
 They sing with witching minstrelsy : 
 " Fair, blue-eyed stranger, come with me ; 
 I ll show you China s inland sea, 
 And almond-eyed girls as fair as she, 
 Where Canton rivals fair Venice 
 And nothing can be done amiss." 
 
Apache-Land. 1 5 
 
 With music from ten thousand boats 
 From which the flag of China floats, 
 The Dragon pointing to the skies 
 Has diamond tail and mirrored eyes, 
 Has fins to swim upon the sea, 
 And legs upon the land has he, 
 And wings to fly up in the air. 
 The Lion, crouching in his lair, 
 Was not so great as China s king, 
 For he was lord of every thing. 
 
 The boats were thick as fish at sea, 
 And great the wonder was to me, 
 How they could one another pass; 
 But each had eyes of looking glass, 
 For Chinese oarsmen fully know, 
 " Me no can see, me how can go ?" 
 When in a tempest wild they toss, 
 They seek to soothe the wrath of "Joss," 
 And save themselves from dangers free, 
 By burning incense on the sea. 
 
 The lanterns hang upon the mast, 
 The sails are set, Whampoa s past, 
 And close upon the weather lee 
 A city rises from the sea, 
 Surpassing all our western towns 
 In wealth and ornamental grounds. 
 The pearly river comes to meet 
 And deck the mistress at its feet, 
 Washing the banks of fair Shameen, 
 Pearl island set in emerald green. 
 
1 6 Apache-Land. 
 
 Our sampan cast her lines ashore 
 
 Before the always open door 
 
 Embowered with China s generous plants 
 
 The noble^ Hong of Olyphants; 
 
 For here the strangers always meet 
 
 Hosts who with smiles and welcome greet, 
 
 On fringe of this great pagan land; 
 
 A gentle, kind and Christian band, 
 
 Who hospitality bestow 
 
 And China s famous city show. 
 
 The dishes of a Chinese feast 
 In cuisine arts outmatch the East. 
 The watermelon s ripened seed 
 In general commence the feed; 
 Then bird s-nest soup in rare tureen 
 Of richest inlaid porcelain; 
 Sharks fins then next apply the test 
 To stomach of the stranger guest; 
 A dish of Chinese roasted snails 
 Requires a glass of stout, or ales. 
 
 The ducks are passed by those who live 
 In China the cause I cannot give; 
 But woodcock, fat on Chinese eyes, 
 Is here an epicurean prize. 
 Eggs must be stale to grace the feast, 
 And have a hundred years at least; 
 For all are taught by Chinese sage, 
 Respect and duty to old age. 
 The vinous liquids, always due, 
 Are rendered in old ripe sam-shu. 
 
Apache- Land. 1 7 
 
 The glasses crystals of the best 
 
 Are fashioned all without a rest; 
 
 So guests must at a single quaff 
 
 Drain the bottomless goblet off. 
 
 The tables groan with all that s nice. 
 
 And the feast is closed with curry and rice. 
 
 The host then rises from the table, 
 
 And if to stand on legs he s able, 
 
 Proposes a toast to "absent friends," 
 
 Their absence here to make amends. 
 
 The guests then seek the drawing-room, 
 The fragrant weed in peace to fume, 
 Till waiters, clad in snowy white, 
 End entertainment of the night 
 By serving round small cups of tea, 
 Distilled from very best bohea 
 A beverage not in the number 
 Of those inclining you to slumber; 
 And if you ll listen while I try, 
 I ll try to tell the reason why. 
 
 A Buddhist monk oppressed with sin, 
 Called conclave of the fathers in, 
 To make confession of his lapse 
 From virtue and other things, perhaps. 
 Before his holy vision strayed 
 A wanton, frail, fair Chinese maid, 
 And pinioned in his heart so deep, 
 A lust that banished balmy sleep, 
 And raised emotions far from free 
 Of breaking his celibacy. 
 
1 8 Apache-Land. 
 
 The holy fathers pondered well 
 His wonderful escape from hell, 
 And made a penance, to be done 
 From setting to the rise of sun, 
 That punishment should be inflicted 
 Upon each member so addicted 
 To wander from the sphere of duty, 
 And rest in lust on female beauty; 
 That through the watches of the night, 
 His eyes should never close their sight. 
 
 The monk upon his penance went; 
 But ere the morning hours were spent 
 Before the hours of night were numbered 
 He sat upon his chair and slumbered. 
 Awaking in astonishment, 
 He gave his eyes their punishment, 
 And from his lids their lashes drew; 
 And on the ground the felons threw, 
 And stamped them in the earth with feet 
 In punishment for their deceit. 
 
 The hairs consigned to mother Earth 
 There fructified, and soon gave birth 
 To stem, soon growing to a tree, 
 From which the Chinese gather tea. 
 Thus penances are doing good, 
 And sermons still are found in wood. 
 To those who right the riddle read 
 And would from sleepiness be freed, 
 Drink strong infusions of the plant 
 Your eyes will never slumber want. 
 
Apache-Land. 1 9 
 
 The boats are waiting at the door, 
 
 The rowers resting on the oar; 
 
 The lamps are hung from stem to stern, 
 
 The tea is drawing in the urn; 
 
 And drapery hung with strange device, 
 
 The youth and beauty to entice; 
 
 For here in China s inland sea 
 
 The nights are given to revelry. 
 
 We step aboard; the sampan flies, 
 
 And beauty melts from almond eyes. 
 
 With music from the sampans flowing 
 To cadence of the oarsmen rowing, 
 We float across the pearly waters 
 In arms of China s lovely daughters; 
 The lights that glimmer on the sea 
 Are like the stars of -far Chaldee, 
 And numerous, as if they meant 
 To imitate the firmament. 
 The world s asleep; but we yet live 
 To suck honey from this human hive. 
 
 Our prow is. set for fair Shameen 
 Enshrouded in its dress of green, 
 Where lanterns, hung on every tree, 
 Their lights reflected in the sea, 
 Are rivaled only by the eyes 
 Of damsels thick as fire-flies, 
 Who welcome us with mimic fire 
 Of paper cannon strung on wire, 
 Draw up their little dainty feet, 
 And hand a cushion for a seat. 
 
2O Apache- Land. 
 
 By China s laws and customs old, 
 The feet of women are controlled. 
 From infancy to age compressed 
 In bandage linen, nicely dressed, 
 They grow no longer than a span. 
 This was the law of China s Khan, 
 To settle questions of dispute 
 Which modern women gravely moot, 
 In violation of the text 
 Which sets the status of the sex. 
 
 They cannot dance on feet of mice, 
 And pity tis they are so nice, 
 That boys must play the female part, 
 In feats of light, fantastic art. 
 Such are China s laws and rules, 
 Taught by wise Confucian schools. 
 But nature has its recompense: 
 If pressure at the foot commence, 
 The blood repressed rises high, 
 And expands itself about the thigh. 
 
 We turn us now to fair Shameen, 
 
 All glimmering in her garb of sheen, 
 
 Whose gardens, lakes and bowers airy, 
 
 Invite the gay voluptuary; 
 
 The divans rare, of silk brocade, 
 
 With China, Tartar, Japan maid, 
 
 Invite to bacchanalian feast, 
 
 Peculiar customs of the East. 
 
 For fear of offending Western law, 
 
 We here the silken curtain draw. 
 
Apache-Land. 2 1 
 
 The sun rose high o er Canton towers 
 Before we left love s shady bowers, 
 And Shameen s beauties bade farewell, 
 And Tartar maids who love so well; 
 Our mandate bids us to Macoa, 
 Where barque and crew await us now; 
 The doubloons have been changed for spice, 
 And some of them for China rice; 
 Others for sugar and silk and tea, 
 And varied cargo of the sea: 
 
 Sandalwood chairs, bamboo settees, 
 Fashioned to give the greatest ease, 
 With furniture around the room, 
 That spread on board a sweet perfume; 
 Silk curtains hung about the doors, 
 And Indian mats upon the floors; 
 The pantry garnished well again, 
 With richest, rarest porcelain; 
 In lieu of Congo ebony, 
 A load of live mahogany. 
 
 We spread our sails and sped along 
 In sight of peaks of old Hong Kong, 
 Where British cruisers lie in wait 
 At gate of China s greatest strait, 
 Content that we may go and come 
 If they can smuggle opium ; 
 Resisting China s wholesome laws, 
 And making war in holy cause 
 Of traffic that the devil speeds 
 In merchandise of poppy seeds. 
 
22 Apache- Land. 
 
 O God, is there on earth no haven, 
 No refuge safe this side of heaven, 
 Where man s inhumanity to man 
 Is placed beneath the social ban? 
 Are royal courts, and kings and queens, 
 In statesmen s hands but puppet means 
 To guide the people to distress, 
 To war, and strife, and wickedness? 
 We ll turn our barque from far Cathay 
 And seek it in America. 
 
 To south south-east we steered our course, 
 On larboard lee Luchous bold coast, 
 And passed the Philippean Isles, 
 Where nature spreads her fairest smiles 
 To make the land yield plenteously, 
 To fatten Spanish royalty; 
 Where poppies and narcotic weed 
 Rotate the land with changing seed, 
 Infusing in the mild manilla 
 An inclination for the pillow. 
 
 From here we pointed straight across 
 A little towards the Southern Cross ; 
 And the first land that we did see, 
 Bounded the Vermilion Sea ; 
 The promontory of old Saint Luke 
 Was sighted as if by a fluke.* 
 The Californian coast extended 
 As mountains south to south-east trended, 
 Kind nature s barrier stretched before, 
 To guard the fair Sonora shore. 
 
 Fluke is a sea-plivnso. 
 
Apache- Land. 2 3 
 
 A landmark here, which all may see, 
 
 One foot on land, and one on sea; 
 
 Sea-lion, petrified by chance, 
 
 Or, monster fixed by Neptune s lance. 
 
 It stands where mild Pacific waves 
 
 Its legs and body daily laves, 
 
 And claims this tribute of the sea 
 
 In memory of mastery. 
 
 Bold headland, take this small tribute, 
 
 Receive, en passant, our salute. 
 
 Across the sea we fast sailed on, 
 Abreast the Isle of Tiburon, 
 Where inlet fashioned in the shore 
 Sheltered our bark and worldly store. 
 The sharks abound in Cortez Sea, 
 But they shall never feast on me. 
 Thank God for all the dangers past. 
 But this long voyage is our last ; 
 For anchored on Sonora s shore, 
 We leave the sea for evermore. 
 
 The island where our good ship lies, 
 
 Is isle of sharks as its name implies ; 
 
 Inhabited by a dusky race 
 
 A trifle yellow in the face, 
 
 And gifted with a nature savage, 
 
 The adjacent coasts and towns to ravage, 
 
 But where, or whence they came, indeed 
 
 Would puzzle students- much to read. 
 
 Their origin s a mystery 
 
 To chronicles or history. 
 
24 Apache- Land. 
 
 Most venomous reptiles here abound 
 And make the isle forbidden ground, 
 To all except this savage race 
 Who keep up here their hiding-place. 
 They place these reptiles in a pit, 
 And lash them till they madly spit 
 Their venom in a tiburon s liver, 
 Which, placed in bottom of a quiver, 
 Infuses in the arrow s point, 
 And sinews that confine the joint, 
 A poison rank, and, shot by stealth, 
 The Ceris arrow s certain death. 
 
 They re like the Asiatic race 
 In indications of the face; 
 In speech, our Chinese servants could 
 With trouble slight be understood. 
 This isle has formed them safe refuge, 
 Perhaps, e er since the great deluge. 
 With boat and spear they gather fish, 
 And cook them in an earthen dish 
 With salt, and other things in store 
 Gathered from the adjacent shore. 
 
 The cargo landed on the strand, 
 My father bought a caravan, 
 And silk and tea and miners tools 
 Were laden on the stout pack-mules. 
 The ship, dismantled, rides upon 
 The sea; a grinning skeleton ; 
 Stripped to the ribs, it floats alone ; 
 It floats a ghost the sea upon, 
 One kiss I waft unto the sea, 
 For thousands she has given me. 
 
Apache-Land. 2 5 
 
 With foot firm placed upon the land, 
 I join the moving caravan, 
 To seek in Arizona mountains 
 The fabled sources of youth s fountains; 
 Ascending higher unto God, 
 Where never foot of man has trod; 
 A home more stabb than the sea, 
 With those who are the world to me. 
 And there amongst the scenes primeval, 
 I surely never can see evil. 
 
 Rivers run to the sea, their sources the sky; 
 Wide enough at the mouth, but narrow on high. 
 And all those who strive to make the ascent, 
 Must often remember the New Testament 
 In parables teaching, which difficult seem; 
 One goes easier down than up any stream. 
 But all we can do is to do our devoir, 
 For not all the climbers can cry "Excelsior." 
 Our duty is done, if we fall by the way; 
 Look upward forever; praise God and pray. 
 
 The caravan moved on apace, 
 
 And even those of brutish race 
 
 Gathered inspiration by the way, 
 
 And vented it in cheerful neigh; 
 
 The mules pricked up their ears, and kept, 
 
 With jingling spurs, a steady step. 
 
 The cruppers fastened close behind, 
 
 The hackamore upon the blind; 
 
 The broad belt-cinch and shoulder-brace 
 
 Kept aperajo in its place. 
 
2 6 Apache- Land. 
 
 In camp at night the watch-fires burned; 
 The mules and horses loose were turned 
 In low foothills and mountain pass, 
 To graze upon the grama grass. 
 The camp-fire burned a ruddy hue, 
 The sky above was gold and blue. 
 All nature seemed to take delight 
 In the still watches of the night. 
 Our Tartar tent was pitched on high, 
 To shed effulgence of the sky. 
 
 The venison steaks were cut and broiled, 
 Our Chinese servants sweat and toiled 
 The guajolote rich to roast 
 And baste his breast with buttered toast; 
 To stuff him with the rich castana, 
 Which grows here in this New Espafia; 
 The mountain quail which here we found, 
 Were roasted on a willow wand, 
 Which gives the bird an unctuous flavor, 
 And very palatable savor. 
 
 The bear s oil forms a dressing nice, 
 When flavored with some eastern spice, 
 And spread upon the turkey s wing, 
 Makes dish to set before a king; 
 A bullock s head was cut and dressed, 
 The blood from out its vessels pressed; 
 A hole was fashioned in the ground 
 And firmly set with stones around, 
 The heat and juice to smother in, 
 And then the head was put within. 
 
Apache- Land. 27 
 
 A large flat stone was placed on top, 
 And fire was kindled on the rock, 
 To roast the head within the skin 
 And keep its juicy flavor in, 
 So that by streak of early morn 
 It might be lifted by the horn 
 And made a matutinal meal 
 With relish citizens never feel. 
 The sentinels their vigils kept, 
 Whilst we in camp securely slept. 
 
 The camp at morn was early stirred 
 That we might match the early bird, 
 For who like sluggards slept too late 
 Would miss their morning chocolate. 
 The packs were spread upon the ground 
 In systematic circle round; 
 The mules, with instinct of the brute, 
 Each found his own day-harness suit 
 And stood aside, upon his back 
 To receive his daily customed pack. 
 
 The blind is first placed o er his eyes 
 
 To shield them from the biting flies; 
 
 A sudoriento next the skin, 
 
 To take the perspiration in; 
 
 A matting made of soft maguey; 
 
 Then aparejo stuffed with hay, 
 
 Its ends expanding very wide, 
 
 To guard the patient pack-mule s side; 
 
 The pack is then securely cinched 
 
 Until the mule has groaned and winced. 
 
28 Apache-Land. 
 
 The load is then placed on the pack, 
 
 Adjusted fairly to the back, 
 
 And safely round the belly tied 
 
 With ropes and thongs of stout rawhide, 
 
 The muleteer, or p raps the dueno, 
 
 Slaps mule on hip, and cries out " Bueno." 
 
 The mule steps quickly to the road, 
 
 Soon as he fairly gets his load, 
 
 Which should in reasonable bounds 
 
 Not much exceed three hundred pounds. 
 
 A gray mare leads the cavallada, 
 
 Is mistress of the whole mulada; 
 
 For here, as in other lands, of course, 
 
 "The gray mare is the better horse." 
 
 With jingling bell which music made, 
 
 She leads the lively cavalcade; 
 
 Her bell, and hide so very white, 
 
 Form safeguard either day or night; 
 
 For mules, like sheep on highland heather, 
 
 Are always led by a bell-wether. 
 
 The riders strike with spur and whip 
 
 A lagging mule upon the hip; 
 
 And oft in rugged mountain road, 
 
 Have trouble to adjust the load. 
 
 My father rode an Arab steed 
 
 Or, at the least, a full half breed 
 
 Whose foam was white as mountain snow 
 
 On atlas peaks in Morocco; 
 
 The saddle, formed by Spanish art, 
 
 Was perfect in its every part. 
 
Apache- Land. 29 
 
 The pommel, projecting at the front, 
 Was garnished with a silver mount, 
 The stirrup fashioned like a boat, 
 Made large and wide, to ease the foot, 
 And these were shining bright, brand new; 
 And they were silver-mounted too; 
 The bit was from my mother s land, 
 So fashioned that a single strand 
 Of silk could guide the wildest steed 
 That ever came of Moorish breed. 
 
 With jingling spurs that music kept, 
 And helped the mules to keep the step, 
 My mother and I, in silk sedan, 
 Kept pace with the moving caravan; 
 Four coolies trotted by our side, 
 To take the chair when others tired, 
 Until the shadow of the sun 
 Reminded us twas time to noon; 
 When, stopping by a mountain side, 
 We camped in valley green and wide. 
 
 Beneath a grove of cottonwoods, 
 
 We made our camp and stacked our goods, 
 
 For where this kind of timber grows, 
 
 You may be sure the water flows. 
 
 In camping, tis considered meet 
 
 To have a valley at your feet, 
 
 With abundant grass for stock to eat, 
 
 And a mountain back for safe retreat; 
 
 Let watch be placed upon a rise, 
 
 To guard the camp against surprise. 
 
30 Apache-Land. 
 
 In fashion thus we journeyed on, 
 From rising till the set of sun, 
 Till at the end of some two weeks 
 We came in sight of mountain peaks 
 Which, pointing to the sky with snow, 
 Gave warning to no further go; 
 And rinding here a valley wide, 
 Guarded by mountains on each side, 
 We pitched our tent beside a lake 
 Which rivers from the mountains make. 
 
 The Indians call it Arivac; 
 
 About ten leagues from old Tubac, 
 
 Where Spaniards, hundred years ago, 
 
 Established a Presidio, 
 
 And twenty leagues from old Tucson, 
 
 Where Jason took his gold fleece from; 
 
 For in the annals of old time, 
 
 Which sadly puzzle modern rhyme, 
 
 It s spelt " Toison," which means a piece, 
 
 The Spanish knights of golden fleece. 
 
 At any rate, we settled here; 
 
 And scared away the timid deer, 
 
 And scared away the civet cat, 
 
 To make this place our Ararat. 
 
 My father built an altar stone, 
 
 And sacrificed a goat thereon, 
 
 In burning incense to the sun, 
 
 That such a happy hom6 we d won; 
 
 The smoke ascended straight to heaven, 
 
 As Indian s strongest shot had riven. 
 
Apache- Land. 3 1 
 
 Here home was found a very home; 
 No more on treacherous seas we ll roam; 
 But here, on virgin soil of God, 
 We ll live by turning up the sod, 
 And cultivate the land for bread, 
 As all who Holy Writ have read, 
 Must know the sons of Adam s doom 
 From erst, the cradle to the tomb. 
 Here sheltered from the world, we three, 
 Wife, husband, child EARTH S TRINITY. 
 
 With stone, and lime, and lofty pine, 
 
 And much material from the mine, 
 
 Foundations laid by square and rule, 
 
 And lofty cellars deep and cool, 
 
 A "casa" rose above the plain 
 
 Its like we ll never see again. 
 
 The bricks were burnt out in the sun, 
 
 Just as of old in Babylon; 
 
 And straw was furnished to concrete 
 
 The mass in shape both square and neat. 
 
 The lofty pines were cut and squared, 
 And in the burning sun well aired, 
 To underlie the house s floors; 
 Mesquite was polished for the doors; 
 And windows, made in convex form 
 To guard the casa from the storm, 
 Were interlaced with iron bars 
 For ventilation and for wars. 
 In front, a great long colonnade 
 The soft red yielding porphyry made. 
 
32 Apache-Land. 
 
 The quarries found on the estate 
 
 Yielded a hard and dark blue slate, 
 
 Which made a handsome Mansard roof, 
 
 Both water-tight and fire-proof. 
 
 At angle facing eastern sun, 
 
 We raised a lofty torreon, 
 
 And mounted there our cannons high, 
 
 In relief against the eastern sky ; 
 
 From nomads north put on our guard 
 
 We must ever here keep watch and ward. 
 
 Oar house outside was rough to view, 
 And finished with rude stucco ; 
 But inside, furnished from the floor 
 To attic with the richest store 
 Of furniture that Europe boasts, 
 Or yield the fair Atlantic coasts 
 With garniture of Asian skill 
 And quaint device of Hindoo will; 
 Fine Cashmere shawls adorn the walls 
 And Japan s bronzes fill the halls. 
 
 Persian rugs are on the floors, 
 
 And Chinese silks enshroud the doors 
 
 The windows hung with tapestry, 
 
 Of Gobelin s famous factory; 
 
 And porcelain, the finest make 
 
 Of China s famous Poyong lake. 
 
 The Aztec s clumsy golden plate 
 
 Was set beside the Sevres state. 
 
 Native silver formed the staff, 
 
 And ornamented the carafe. 
 
Apache- Land. 33 
 
 Our wines were wines of Portugal, 
 
 And native drink of old Mescal, 
 
 With goodly store of French champagne 
 
 Which we had brought o er many a main, 
 
 And Burgundy which since the flood 
 
 Has enriched the sons of Noah s blood ; 
 
 Chablis, for use upon the sea ; 
 
 Cognac, to temper with the tea 
 
 In Russian fashion it is made 
 
 And commonly called a " citronade." 
 
 Our store of sherry is, of course, 
 
 Abundant. For my father s use, 
 
 Absinthe is served when we guests invite, 
 
 To titillate the appetite ; 
 
 And after dinner Roman punch 
 
 (The stout and ales are served at lunch); 
 
 The coffee, which I most admire, 
 
 Is roasted on a mesquite fire, 
 
 And stirred about with willow sticks, 
 
 Half Mocha, and half Java, mixed, 
 
 Then ground to color of the opal, 
 
 The best mills come from Constantinople. 
 
 About the pot there s great dispute, 
 
 But Veyron s patent seems to suit; 
 
 Distilling essence drop by drop, 
 
 And leaving grounds up in the top. 
 
 Sugar and cognac stirred about; 
 
 If you like, you burn the spirit out. 
 
 After this, in regulated homes, 
 
 The ladies retire to drawing-rooms. 
 
Apache- Land. 3 5 
 
 The men were placed to herd on lea, 
 The girls left to my mother and me; 
 They learned to cook and make the tea, 
 With simple kinds of broidery; 
 They appeared as simple as a child, 
 Daughters of Eve without a guile. 
 They poked their noses gainst the glass, 
 And laughed because they would not pass; 
 Surprise d, in simple, childlike glee, 
 They couldn t touch what they could see. 
 
 The Pima race inhabits most 
 
 Of the country north of Sonora coast; 
 
 From Gila s northern boundary 
 
 To eastern shore of Cortez sea. 
 
 Their houses once were grand and high; 
 
 And yet, in Arizona s sky, 
 
 When passing on the Tucson road, 
 
 The ruins of a king s abode 
 
 Are seen upon the eastern plain; 
 
 Or perhaps it was a pagan fane. 
 
 The Pima s name s much controverted, 
 
 And many remain still unconverted 
 
 To this or that man s theory, 
 
 As we learn naught of history. 
 
 You ask a Pima how to go, 
 
 Or something that he does not know, 
 
 He s sure to answer you "pima -ch;" 
 
 If favor s asked, he says "pia -ch," 
 
 For Pimas are a stingy race, 
 
 And have a kind of Jewish face. 
 
36 Apache- Land. 
 
 A part of the great Pima tribe 
 Have parted from the mother hive, 
 And try, in some half-Christian way, 
 Their duties to the church to pay; 
 They may be known by wearing clothes, 
 And somewhat less of Hebrew nose; 
 They worship at old San Xavier, 
 But their piety is not severe. 
 The rest, who flout the church s livery," 
 Live westward from Mount Babaquivera. 
 
 They here tend flocks of cattle and sheep 
 
 Until Sonora farmers reap 
 
 Their rich, abundant trigo s yield, 
 
 When they re employed in harvest field; 
 
 In Winter they come to Arivac, 
 
 The woman always with the pack 
 
 Of household goods in rawhide sack, 
 
 With small papoose upon her back, 
 
 Convenient to the founts of lac, 
 
 Which modest covering always lack. 
 
 The men engage in hunting game. 
 The antelope, not very tame, 
 Is caught by many crafty tricks, 
 Which only Indian skill can fix; 
 They take the half a skin of one, 
 And carefully dry it in the sun, 
 The hide all stiff, the horns erect; 
 The vacant eyes, their eyes protect, 
 When creeping slyly through the bush, 
 Or in the heat of chase thev rush. 
 
Apache- Land. 37 
 
 Then clothe themselves with shirt blood-red, 
 
 And fix the skin about their head; 
 
 Then sally out to catch the game, 
 
 Which roams with such romantic name. 
 
 The herd, astonished at such sight, 
 
 Confounded, lose their senses quite; 
 
 An antelope with shirt blood-red, 
 
 And skin and horns about his head, 
 
 Is vision to excite surprise, 
 
 And fascinates their pensive eyes. 
 
 They stand like statues on the plain, 
 Whilst wily hunter takes his aim, 
 When " bang " goes rifle, and a buck 
 Falls to the ground, in vitals struck; 
 The herd, all heedless of the gun, 
 All gather round the stricken one; 
 Not like some deer, and people too, 
 Who run away when dangers brew; 
 The hunter loads his gun again, 
 And piles the plain up with the slain. 
 
 The women do domestic work; 
 Their lords and masters ape the Turk, 
 And have but slight felicity 
 In matters that domestic be. 
 They gather willows from the lake, 
 And pretty willow baskets make, 
 Painting the outside clean and nice, 
 With varied, strange, and quaint device; 
 Cementing some with gum mesquite, 
 To keep the water pure and sweet. 
 
38 Apache- Land. 
 
 They gather clay from out the ground, 
 And in a mortar finely pound, 
 Then mix with water from the lake, 
 Until the mass will fashion take; 
 Then twirling it around their hands 
 In many circumfluent bands, 
 They fashion it in form desired, 
 To make utensils as required; 
 Then place it in the sun to dry, 
 And paint it with the charcoal s dye. 
 
 The crocks are taken from the sun, 
 And great, long furnace placed upon, 
 The jars and pans and oven s lid 
 Forming a little pyramid. 
 The fuel to heat this crucible 
 Was ordure from the horse corral; 
 For stronger heat the pots would crack, 
 And charcoal likely burn them black. 
 Thus Nature teaches for her part 
 These simple-minded people art. 
 
 The Mission Church of San Xavier 
 
 Deserves a little notice here. 
 
 A pretty ground it stands upon, 
 
 Three Spanish leagues from old Tucson; 
 
 The waters of the Santa Cruz 
 
 Lend here the church their willing use, 
 
 Then sink themselves upon the plain, 
 
 And ne er are used by man again. 
 
 Its walls were built, as records show, 
 
 About two hundred years ago. 
 
Apache- Land. 39 
 
 The Jesuits, for the love of Christ, 
 Their lives and pleasures sacrificed, 
 And here, as elsewhere, monument 
 Excites your greatest wonderment, 
 That this wild wilderness of sin 
 So grand a structure should be in. 
 Its domes and towers rising high, 
 Its cross uplifting to the sky; 
 But here, indeed, it grandly rose, 
 The Mecca of the Papagos. 
 
 This name was given them by priests 
 In testimony of release 
 From Lucifer, and all the hells 
 Where soul of unshrived Pima dwells. 
 The fathers well knew how to build. 
 With unmatched architectural skill 
 They searched the country with the aid 
 That travel and experience made, 
 And with their scientific lights 
 Selected the best building sites. 
 
 They laid it off by square and rule, 
 And sunk a crypt both deep and cool, 
 For r every and safe deposit, 
 A treasury and study-closet: 
 The foundations were well laid with stone 
 Brought from the mountains one by one, 
 In ox-carts fashioned stout and good, 
 With beds of hide and wheels of wood. 
 Cement was made of water and lime, 
 A concrete mass defying time. 
 
4O Apache-Land. 
 
 Of sun-burnt brick were made the walls, 
 
 Plastered with lime the inner halls; 
 
 The parapet, and towers thick, 
 
 Were finished off with kiln-burnt brick; 
 
 The dome surmounted all on high, 
 
 A very model of the sky. 
 
 My mother loved the Moorish towers, 
 
 In memory of happier hours, 
 
 And pronounced the tout ensemble scenic, 
 
 The architecture Saracenic. 
 
 The walls, adorned with holy frescos, 
 
 The altars, picturesque reredos, 
 
 Were work of some Italian priest, 
 
 Who studied art in the far East; 
 
 The candelabra on the altar, 
 
 And urn, to hold the holy water, 
 
 Were made of solid pina plata; 
 
 Abundant here midst other matter. 
 
 In San Xavier I love to linger 
 
 And muse on march of old Time s finger; 
 
 For here, with Christ in holy union, 
 
 It was I took my first communion. 
 
 Full many sorrows since I ve seen, 
 
 In many dangerous places been; 
 
 But vision of Christ upon the sea 
 
 Has comfort always brought to me; 
 
 For faith, and hope, and charity, 
 
 Will win the gate of heaven these three. 
 
 Then Christ will see the little child, 
 
 And forgive all after errors wild. 
 
Apache- Land. 4 1 
 
 The work has sped at Arivac 
 
 With plow and spade, and hoe and ax; 
 
 The ground s been turned and seed insown, 
 
 Of barley, wheat, and Indian corn; 
 
 With beans, and peas, and black frijol, 
 
 And seed of lovely marigold; 
 
 The garden s sown with native legumbres, 
 
 And foreign plants in endless numbers, 
 
 With melon seeds from Spain and Cuba, 
 
 And natives from the banks of Yuba. 
 
 The orchard s set with tropic fruits, 
 With peach, and pear, and apple shoots; 
 Sonora figs, and Altar dates, 
 And trees, imported from the States; 
 With seed of always rich banana, 
 Brought from plantations at Havana; 
 Citron and orange of every clime, 
 Not even forgot the useful lime; 
 For orange, I eat the mandarin, 
 Because tis easy stripped of skin. 
 
 The vineyard, on south mountain-side, 
 Was plowed in rows bout two feet wide; 
 Planted with vine-slips from Sonora, 
 Del Moreno, "El Aurora," 
 And from Los Angeles and Sonoma 
 California grapes all lack aroma. 
 We had China vine-slips in the bark, 
 By sons of Shem saved from the ark. 
 Tis said that wine inspires the muse, 
 But to rhyme these vines it is no use. 
 
42 Apache- Land. 
 
 To fructify this planted crop 
 
 And make the seeds with vigor hop, 
 
 The great necessity is water, 
 
 Which is said, by those who " hadn t oughter, 
 
 To be as scarce as good society 
 
 A slander, lacking in variety. 
 
 To irrigate the fields and plains, 
 
 In country where it never rains 
 
 And water t s a scarcity, 
 
 Is work of prime necessity. 
 
 We dammed the streams on mountain-sides, 
 
 And made canals for water-guides, 
 
 Trained through the fields to gently flow; 
 
 And when they needed overflow, 
 
 Opened the dikes and water-gates, 
 
 And through the ground it percolates 
 
 In vivifying streams, and gains 
 
 A better crop than meager rains; 
 
 For ancients taught us long ago, 
 
 This was the way to make crops grow. 
 
 Mother and I must have our space, 
 And claimed a little garden-place 
 Just by the house, quite close at hand, 
 To plant with shrubs from Flowery Land, 
 And seeds of every kind of flowers, 
 With vines for aromatic bowers; 
 We inclosed it with a cactus hedge, 
 Which grew as thick as they could wedge, 
 Making a fence impervious 
 To animals, and to the dust. 
 
Apache- Land. 43 
 
 Inside, the cactus hedge to screen, 
 
 A bois d arc hedge fringed it with green; 
 
 And inside this, to further please, 
 
 A row of Chinese orange trees, 
 
 From which a bounteous nature showers 
 
 Delicious fruit and fragrant flowers; 
 
 The China asters next were seen, . 
 
 Dwarf firs in pots for evergreen; 
 
 Japonicas set out in rows, 
 
 The ever-lovely English rose. 
 
 Upon the center of the ground 
 
 The Chinese gardeners raised a mound 
 
 With taste unique and cunning skill, 
 
 The smaller flowers in plats to fill. 
 
 Surmounting all, a noble fount 
 
 Shed jets of water from the mount. 
 
 In this mundane elysium 
 
 We found relief from tedium, 
 
 And innocently passed the hours 
 
 In needlework, midst fruits and flowers. 
 
 The summer past, the autumn come 
 Which brings us to our harvest-home, 
 When reapers gathered bounteous measure 
 Of golden fruits of earthly treasure, 
 The Papagos, to share the yield, 
 The gleaners followed in the field. 
 The granary was filled with svheat, 
 Which in the soil grows rich and sweet; 
 The corn was stacked up in the field 
 The store-rooms would not hold the yield. 
 
44 Apache-Land. 
 
 In gratitude for this abundance 
 
 And nature s bounteous redundance, 
 
 My father, after his siesta, 
 
 Made plans with us for a fiesta, 
 
 Which we should give his farm colleagues 
 
 Who lived within a hundred leagues. 
 
 They had to us been very kind, 
 
 And sent us every breed of kine, 
 
 With fowls of every quality 
 
 In rural hospitality. 
 
 Mother and I inscribed the list 
 Of guests invited to the feast. 
 To give full time to viands seek, 
 The feast was set for Christmas week. 
 Our nearest neighbor on the north 
 Douglass, who at Sopori held forth 
 A man of old Virginia s school, 
 Who here o er Mexicans held rule. 
 The next place north of old Tubac 
 Was Mission San Xavier del Bac, 
 
 Whose cure must of course have place 
 
 At head of board, to ask the grace. 
 
 Tucson s convives appreciate 
 
 A dinner served on silver plate: 
 
 But north of this a thousand miles 
 
 Are only savage Indian wilds. 
 
 We turn us south up Santa Cruz 
 
 And find Americans who use 
 
 The social laws and nothing lack, 
 
 At presidio of old Tubac. 
 
Apache- Land. 45 
 
 Thence passing Mission Tumucacori 
 One league, about the break of day, 
 Next Calabazas comes in view, 
 A fine old Jesuit ruin too: 
 Then turning south, cross the divide 
 Where savage Indians lurk and hide, 
 To intercept perhaps to slaughter 
 The traveler at Zarca s water, 
 We meet at Imuriz an Alemann, 
 The blue-eyed Saxon, Hulsemann. 
 
 At Magdalena, fast or feast, 
 
 The traveler s a welcome guest; 
 
 Gonzales board is always spread 
 
 With best of meat and wine and bread, 
 
 Served by his mozos all sedate, 
 
 Upon a set of silver plate. 
 
 His beds are built of shining brass, 
 
 And covered with a hair mattress. 
 
 My father knew him long ago, 
 
 Where Congo River s waters flow. 
 
 The hacienda " la Alamitta," 
 A name and place both very pretty, 
 Owned by old Manuel Yfiego, 
 Who s dead and gone long ago, 
 Was named for an invited guest; 
 And here we ll stop at night and rest. 
 The old fox lived a scandalous life, 
 Unmatched except by his own wife. 
 The sons, tis said, are dreadful rakes, 
 But invited for their sisters sakes. 
 
46 Apache- Land. 
 
 At "La Labor," the next in train, 
 
 We found the noble Aztissirain, 
 
 A gentleman in every part 
 
 In mind and soul and mien and heart; 
 
 In travels quite a wanderer. 
 
 Now son-in-law of Guadara, 
 
 He cultivates estates paternal, 
 
 And with solicitude maternal, 
 
 Accepts the willing patronage 
 
 Of a thousand held in peonage. 
 
 At Tapahua, next upon the round, 
 
 The governor of the State is found, 
 
 Don Manuel Maria Guadara; 
 
 Whom not the vilest slanderer 
 
 Is found to say a word against, 
 
 Or bring the slightest charge fornenst. 
 
 He lives in patriarchal state, 
 
 His faithful . Yaquis guard his gate; 
 
 The stranger s welcome to his hall, 
 
 He s "the noblest Roman of them all." 
 
 We next must visit rHermosilla 
 
 To wait on Dona Maria Emparra, 
 
 The chief senora of the place, 
 
 Whose most unfortunate disgrace, 
 
 A naughty husband, lives afar; 
 
 So she s consoled by Aguilar. 
 
 Her niece, fair Senorita Goerlitz, 
 
 Child of a Russian scamp from Oerlitz, 
 
 Another family disgrace, 
 
 Which happened down about San Bias. 
 
Apache- Land. 47 
 
 Guaymas, a dirty little port; 
 Aduana Cuartel, an old mud fort, 
 The home of land and water rats 
 Living in homes unfit for bats, 
 Engaged in commerce contraband, 
 Disgrace to either sea or land. 
 Haciendero s feasts are never made 
 For persons only known in trade. 
 In Guaymas town, the only man 
 To invite, "el Consul American." 
 
 The Ainsa family are invited, 
 
 For else we fear they ll think they re slighted; 
 
 A family of Manilla race 
 
 With type of Asiatic face. 
 
 The girls are rather interesting, 
 
 The boys you re never done detesting, 
 
 Because they have such peacock ways 
 
 And always speak in their own praise; 
 
 But Augustine we think must go, 
 
 To please his caro, Amelia Yfiigo. 
 
 The list is finished down so far, 
 We now return to high Altar, 
 Where Zepada rules the social roast 
 "And busies him about the coast; 
 And neighbors say he s quite gone mad 
 - About the port of Libertad. 
 A Ciudadano true is he, 
 And first in every charity; 
 His wife and daughter quite au fait 
 In graceful hospitality. 
 
48 Apache- Land. 
 
 Our nearest neighbor s Jose Moreno, 
 The young and very handsome dueiio 
 Of the best hacienda in Sonora, 
 And very rightly named Aurora; 
 Where agriculture s well conducted, 
 And peon labor is instructed 
 In use of patent implements 
 Instead of native simplements. 
 His horses roam in countless drove, 
 A thousand hills his cattle rove. 
 
 This is, from Guaymas to Tucson, 
 All who are classed as gente de raison. 
 Another question rises yet, 
 Involving frontier etiquette: 
 The Indian chiefs in neighborhood 
 Have often sat at father s board; 
 Omitted now, they might take slight, 
 And think they were not treated right. 
 Old Anton Azul, the Pima chief, 
 Is a good old man, but very deaf. 
 
 A Papago s name would load a horse 
 
 Jose Antonio Victoriano Solorse, 
 
 He holds his court at San Xavier, 
 
 And when we Ve passed gave us good cheer. 
 
 Those Spanish dons are proud of place, 
 
 Punctilious about their race; 
 
 The ladies, too, might feel unpleasant 
 
 If these untutored Los were present. 
 
 So, for fear of running gainst good taste, 
 
 We ll not decide this case in haste. 
 

 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
-*;** f***B 
 
 , C.f. F. 
 
 THE SAGUARA 
 
Apache-Land. 49 
 
 We spared no pains in preparation, 
 To render this, our first oblation, 
 Full worthy of our rank and station, 
 And give our neighbors delectation. 
 The fruit of many cacti serves 
 To make most excellent preserves, 
 Mixed with indigenous miel, 
 Which Papagos in bottles sell, 
 Made of the fruit of the seguarro, 
 A name which Indians only borrow. 
 
 The rightful name is the "petiyah," 
 
 For frees that grow a little higher; 
 
 Or, if you learned books discuss, 
 
 Tis " Cereus giganteus " 
 
 A tree which grows in desert lands, 
 
 And finds its nurture in the sands; 
 
 It rises limbless fifty feet, 
 
 Yielding a fruit both rich and sweet; 
 
 And when the fruits quite ripened fall, 
 
 The Papagos hold carnival. 
 
 They gather it for winter s use, 
 And from the pulp express the juice, 
 Obtaining, as I try to tell, 
 A very palatable miel. 
 The pulp is then compressed in cakes, 
 And very dainty bread it makes. 
 The oak here yields its rich bellotas, 
 And in the ground are found camotas 
 The germ of our own sweet potato, 
 Though cultivation improves its nature. 
 
50 Apache- Land, 
 
 The ammabroma sonorea 
 
 Grows freely in the Papagueria, 
 
 But can scarce be called an esculent 
 
 A kind of waif, by nature sent, 
 
 To feed the dwellers in the sand, 
 
 On western shores of Sonoraland. 
 
 A bread is made from the acacia, 
 
 An astringent. kind of food called "pach tea," 
 
 With pinons, tunas, and nogale; 
 
 Of fruits, Sylvester forms finale. 
 
 Our preparations all were made, 
 
 And stores exhaustless were inlaid, 
 
 To close the year with song and dance 
 
 And gratitude for our advance 
 
 In prosperity and social state, 
 
 And all the joys that should elate 
 
 The prosperous to give a feast 
 
 At end of every year, at least; 
 
 We spread our gates, adorned our walls, 
 
 And decked with evergreens our halls. 
 
 The alameda long and wide, 
 
 With cottonwoods to shade each side, 
 
 Stretched out a good long mile, or more, 
 
 An avenue to the front door. 
 
 O er water trained in streams to meet 
 
 Beneath stone bridge at end of street, 
 
 " Bien venido " welcomed guest 
 
 To hospitality and to rest. 
 
 The cannon thundered from the towers 
 
 A welcome to these guests of ours. 
 
Apache-Land. 5 1 
 
 Old Douglass came like old King Cole, 
 As guests arrived in days of old, 
 With fiddlers and with harpers three, 
 To add to our festivity. 
 The cure of San Xavier del Bac 
 Came mounted on a palfrey s back, 
 With Tucson s gallants in his train; 
 And Commandante Commoduran, 
 The Tubac chief, came, with his band, 
 In an ambulance with four-in-hand. 
 
 There are some meetings like a doom, 
 That follow us unto the tomb. 
 To mother in the colonnade, 
 This Tubac chief obeisance made, 
 And kissed my hand i greeting meet; 
 I trembled then from head to feet. 
 But what of this ? Our guests require 
 The welcome courtesy of my sire, 
 His wife s kind greetings all the while, 
 And not the least his daughter s smile. 
 
 The Tubac chief brought in his band 
 The natives of most every land; 
 But not for him these sketches made; 
 For what is he, to Sonora maid ? 
 Bat for their own intrinsic worth, 
 I must in duty set them forth: 
 First, Ehrenberg, a Saxon mild, 
 Who had in youth been very wild, 
 And ranged in Texas border wars 
 Until his face was full of scars. 
 
5 2 Apache-Land. 
 
 Thence wandering far to Oregon, 
 
 He earned his way with trap and gun; 
 
 From thence he sailed to Sandwich Isles, 
 
 Where he was employed by Minister Wiles 
 
 To make survey of Honolulu, 
 
 And paint eruption of Tululu, 
 
 Whence he sailed to island Otaheite, 
 
 Where, tis said, he was Queen Pomare s deity; 
 
 How this may be we must not scan 
 
 He was an interesting man. 
 
 Brunckow, of name and type quite Russian 
 
 His mother was a native Prussian 
 
 In German scientific lore, 
 
 He learned to analyze the ore, 
 
 And with a mere blow-pipe assay, 
 
 Find out how much a mine would pay; 
 
 He came from Texas over here, 
 
 To search for mines or chase the deer; 
 
 In manners he a Frenchman quite, 
 
 Extremely well-bred and polite. 
 
 Schuchard was a native Hessian, 
 A draughtsman able by profession; 
 And led by fortune out this way, 
 On the first Pacific Railroad survey; 
 His steady gaze I could not endure, 
 For fear he d make my caricature. 
 A fellow of most wondrous wit, 
 Who oft with pencil made a hit 
 Which pen or words cannot describe, 
 But they ne er forget who feel the gibe. 
 
Apache- Land. 53 
 
 Methner, Besler, and other Dutchmen 
 
 You have no interest in such men, 
 
 They just know how to smoke the pipe ; 
 
 But Kuestel was of Magyar type, 
 
 And learned in best Hungarian schools 
 
 To use assay and mining tools. 
 
 His sister, and niece, the fraulein Kline, 
 
 Were company for those at the mine. 
 
 The fraulein, a most accomplished person, 
 
 Inspired, somehow, a great aversion. 
 
 Pumpelly, prince of mining men, 
 
 Completes the list of Tubac s ten, 
 
 Who came to join our festive board, 
 
 And render praise to harvest Lord. 
 
 If one s omitted where you ve read, 
 
 Tis in sacred memory of the dead; 
 
 The Pima Indians teach you this, 
 
 And always take it quite amiss 
 
 To question them about a brother 
 
 Who s gone where angels round him hover. 
 
 Hulsemann came with old Torafio, 
 The Gonzales name is all engafio ; 
 My father knew him on Congo s coast, 
 And .here they meet as guest and host, 
 To talk of ventures of the sea, 
 And ante-nuptial revelry. 
 They drove a pair of spanking bays, 
 And others led for fresh relays ; 
 Torafio traveled in great state, 
 And carried with him silver plate. 
 
54 Apache- Land. 
 
 The Ynigos came with grand escort 
 
 Of Indian lancers, like cohort 
 
 Of ancient soldiers, trained to wield, 
 
 On horse or foot, the spear and shield ; 
 
 The Aztissirains, with ample train, 
 
 In carriage that was brought from Spain; 
 
 The governor s guard, a hundred Yaquis 
 
 As soldiers you ll not find their matches ; 
 
 They ve stood by him in all his wars, 
 
 And carry many ugly scars. 
 
 The fat old Dona Maria Emparra, 
 With pretty niece, came in a carro, 
 Bringing along, with part her train, 
 A handsome young American ; 
 The Ainsas came in shabby plight, 
 Reminding us of adage trite 
 In pride and poverty partnership, 
 There s sometimes good companionship ; 
 The Morenos and Zapedas together 
 Arrived like other birds of feather. 
 
 After the usual salutations, 
 
 Our guests were taken to different stations, 
 
 Their attendants placed in proper quarters, 
 
 And horses led to drink the waters. 
 
 They all arrived by Noche-bueno, 
 
 The Christmas eve of Americano, 
 
 In time to change their dusty costumes, 
 
 And join with us in Christian customs, 
 
 While Father Escalante read, 
 
 And the church s blessing on us spread. 
 
Apache-Land. 
 
 On Christmas morn, at rise of sun, 
 The hour was told by peal of gun, 
 Which, sounding from the mountain peaks, 
 Waked echoes in the valley creeks, 
 Announcing here, in place forlorn, 
 The day the Son of God was born. 
 The greetings made, a mass was said, 
 And then the festive board was spread ; 
 My part was first to brew a grog 
 Americans mix and call egg-nog, 
 
 The chief components milk and brandy; 
 
 But if you ve not the cognac handy, 
 
 Good whisky serves as substitute, 
 
 Or rum, or juice of maguey root. 
 
 The milk must first be thoroughly sweetened, 
 
 Then yolk of eggs as thoroughly beaten ; 
 
 The whites are whipped to make the foam, 
 
 Some nutmeg to adorn the comb; 
 
 Then serve in goblets, and the rest 
 
 Is " Merry Christmas " to your guest. 
 
 Arrangements had been made before, 
 To have the fish brought from sea-shore, 
 And oysters, which are now in season, 
 With turtles, to make soup to feast on ; 
 The rancho furnished beef and mutton, 
 With pigs enough for any glutton ; 
 And hunters had been hired, to grace 
 Our board with trophies of the chase 
 With deer, and antelope, and bear, 
 And turkeys wild the best of fare. 
 
56 Apache-Land. 
 
 The way to roast an ox for feast, 
 Is whole to barbecue the beast ; 
 And turkeys should be cooked entire, 
 In a very hot but smothered fire ; 
 The intestines lend the bird a flavor, 
 The burning feathers give it savor. 
 The blood of every meat for use, 
 Forms nature s best, most natural juice ; 
 Of French ragout and English roast, 
 We do not care at all to boast. 
 
 Our Christmas dinner passed off well, 
 With incidents we need not tell ; 
 Each guest was seated by a mate, 
 To add to pleasures of the plate, 
 The spice congenial company gives, 
 When formal dinner it relieves, 
 Enhancing greatly talk and zest, 
 Which gen rous host desires for guest ; 
 For else a dinner s wholly spoiled, 
 The pleasures of the day assoiled. 
 
 The wines were served from crystal stoup, 
 A little sherry after soup ; 
 Chablis with fish, next after which 
 The drink was claret, red and rich ; 
 Champagne, of course, was served with game. 
 All dinners are about the same, 
 And after a while the men got prosy, 
 When the ladies retired to have a cozy; 
 For while they linger o er the port, 
 We, too, must have our little sport. 
 
Apache- Land. 57 
 
 For outdoor sports throughout the days, 
 
 We improvised some little plays. 
 
 A chicken cock placed in the ground 
 
 At outer edge of the race-course round, 
 
 His head projecting from the mound, 
 
 Formed mark for horsemen sweeping round, 
 
 Who stooped from saddle-bow to ground, 
 
 And oft a tumbled rider found 
 
 His equestrian ability 
 
 Outmatched by cock s agility. 
 
 The Yaquis gave their native dance 
 In circle gathered round the lance, 
 At center firmly set in ground, 
 With pennons spread the circle round, 
 Their anklet, shells of rattlesnakes, 
 In dancing a wild cadence makes; 
 While song, invented for the hour, 
 In fashion of the troubadour, 
 In verse lampooned each noted guest, 
 With hits that brought the laugh and jest. 
 
 All day, scrape spread on ground, 
 The gambling groups may here be found 
 Indulging in a monte game 
 Of cards, of ancient Aztec fame. 
 Inveterate gamblers are the Yaquis, 
 And freely risk their hard-earned tlacos 
 In games of chance and sports and races, 
 Just as they do in other places ; 
 All the world s a stage," as Shakespeare says, 
 And where s the man but sometimes plays? 
 
58 Apache- Land. 
 
 A bull-fight may be seen in Spain. 
 In Cuba, or on the Spanish Main ; 
 But here, to make the sport more rare, 
 We matched a bull against a bear. 
 The horse-corral formed ample theater, 
 The walls around formed amphitheater, 
 Where guests in safety watched the sight 
 Of bull and bruin come to fight. 
 After sundry passes, thrusts, and turns, 
 The bull tossed bruin on his horns. 
 
 Our nights were spent in Spanish dancing, 
 
 And when the night was found advancing, 
 
 We passed around the loving cup, 
 
 To keep the dancers spirits up. 
 
 To make this cup is quite a secret, 
 
 But as you re a man, of course you ll keep it: 
 
 Rum, brandy, or whisky makes the body, 
 
 And for a flavor, apple-toddy, 
 
 Champagne frappe, and rich ice-cream 
 
 To bed, and of the angels dream. 
 
 The night before the year expires, 
 
 We improvise a night surprise, 
 
 To leave on memory pleasant phantoms. 
 
 The lake was covered with Chinese lanterns, 
 
 Each strung on wire, which moved about, 
 
 As the Chinese pulled them in and out, 
 
 In shape of mimic ships on fire, 
 
 And grotesque imps on dancing wire ; 
 
 A pyrotechnical display 
 
 Gives welcome to the New Year s day. 
 
Apache- Land. 59 
 
 An emperor, in days of yore, 
 Sought daughter lost along the shore, 
 With lanterns, boats, and dredging gear, 
 For she was drowned, they all did fear. 
 By lighting all the lake around, 
 The father soon his daughter found ; 
 And in gratitude to great Shang-te, 
 Made laws that always, on the sea, 
 The feast of lanterns should be kept, 
 For daughter found, who erst was wept. 
 
 Our guests were gone ; 
 
 We three alone 
 
 The Winter days and nights must pass, 
 
 Secluded now and lone. Alas, 
 
 That, from the ark let loose, the dove 
 
 Found olive-branch to bear above! 
 
 The family have since dispersed, 
 
 And those most thoroughly well versed 
 
 In lineage can t trace their tree, 
 
 As it has spread o er land and sea. 
 
 We watched the sunrise day by day, 
 In morning dawn with silver ray, 
 Send forth through Santa Rita s peaks 
 His first clear-pointed silver streaks ; 
 By noon he rolled, a copper god, 
 O er mountain peaks by man ne er trod ; 
 At evening, gold, with purple clouds, 
 Majestic, gorgeous, golden shrouds ; 
 He sinks beyond Babaquivari, 
 To rest in far Pacific sea. 
 
60 Apache-Land. 
 
 My father strung the soft guitar, 
 My mother sung some Moorish air ; 
 The zithern melted in her hand, 
 As she played and sung of Moorish land. 
 My Pima maid and I kept tune. 
 These Indians have a vocal boon; 
 They sing with melody and heart, 
 And could excel in vocal art ; 
 The climate favors voice and lung, 
 And this is the very land of song. 
 
 In spring the mountain torrents loosed 
 Some flakes of gold from craggy roost, 
 And brought them down the grand canal, 
 Which flowed along our peaceful val. 
 The Eden serpent come by stealth ! 
 Oh, false, vain counterfeit of wealth ! 
 Oh, cursed gold, oh, fiendish dross ! 
 Your fancied gain was our great loss. 
 They fascinated father s eyes, 
 And he gave up all to win the prize. 
 
 No more the land was tilled for bread, 
 No more at night the Bible rfead. 
 No more was wife or child cared .for; 
 The only deity now was d or. 
 For machines of heavy bulk and weight, 
 My father pledged the vast estate 
 To Tubac s chief, who dealt in ores, 
 And furnished miners mining stores ; 
 His Spanish nature all soon changed, 
 And from his family estranged. 
 
Apache-Land. 6 1 
 
 All love and courtesy now denied, 
 My gentle mother pined and died; 
 The first spring violets on her grave, 
 A prayer to Mary her soul to save ; 
 A child brought up in Moorish bowers, 
 Who watched the sea from father s towers, 
 Here buried in these western mountains, 
 It brings the tears from driest fountains ; 
 This was the first sincere youth s sorrow 
 Which forever clouds life s coming morrow. 
 
 One Sabbath morn, at break of day, 
 
 When counting mother s rosary, 
 
 A cry rang out so wild and high, 
 
 That it had almost pierced the sky 
 
 Apaches ! that dreadful knell, 
 
 Announcing here these fiends of hell; 
 
 Apaches ! ! that dreadful note, 
 
 That makes the breath stick in the throat ; 
 
 Apaches ! ! ! that dreadful doom, 
 
 That shadowed forth a bloody tomb. 
 
 The savages prepared at night 
 To make attack at dawn of light; 
 My father fell at his own door, 
 Filling the " salvatum " sill with gore; 
 A red fiend caught me round the waist, 
 And on my father s best horse placed; 
 Then mounting on behind, gave lash, 
 And passed away, like lightning flash. 
 My Pima maid swung by the hair, 
 In gripe of other savage bear. 
 
62 Apache- Land. 
 
 About a hundred rode behind, 
 
 With spoil of horses and of kine. 
 
 We passed Sopori in two hours 
 
 The smoke was issuing from the towers; 
 
 There was no sign of cow nor horse 
 
 Old Douglass lay a bloody corse, 
 
 With neither friend nor kinsman near, 
 
 To perform the rites of sepulture; 
 
 His faithful harpers beside him lay, 
 
 And requiem played as they passed away. 
 
 By noon we crossed the Santa Cruz. 
 Oh! holy name of Cross, infuse 
 Some pity in the saints above, 
 To rescue me, for Christ s dear love. 
 Oh! for some power divine, alack! 
 To telegraph to old Tubac; 
 The chief would gather all his clan, 
 And make pursuit becoming man; 
 For nothing so becomes the brave, 
 As weak and captured maid to save. 
 
 At evening, as the setting sun 
 
 Threw its last lingering beams upon 
 
 The towers and domes of San Xavier, 
 
 We passed in sight and very near 
 
 Where pious priests, and nuns among, 
 
 Chanted the wonted vesper-song. 
 
 Oh! holy Maty, pity have, 
 
 And a lost and helpless maiden save. 
 
 I struggled in my captor s vice, 
 
 And threw a kiss to the cross of Christ. 
 
Apache-Land. 63 
 
 Oh ! for a magic telephone 
 
 To communicate with old Tucson; 
 
 Her chivalry would quickly arm, 
 
 And never let me come to harm. 
 
 The Oury s brave as lion s cubs, 
 
 And dare-devil as Beelzebubs; 
 
 Pete Kitchen on his skew-bald horse, 
 
 With Papago auxiliary force, 
 
 Would make pursuit with bated breath, 
 
 To rescue, or to meet their death. 
 
 The night came on, we thundered on; 
 
 All hope of rescue now was gone. 
 
 We scoured across the plain, 
 
 The livelong night ne er drew a rein. 
 
 I tore some slips from my night-gown, 
 
 And slyly dropped them on the ground 
 
 To guide pursuit, if any came. 
 
 I bowed my head to the horse s mane, 
 
 And prayed the orphan s only Friend 
 
 Relief and succor soon to send. 
 
 At dawn of day on Gila s banks 
 Our caballada cooled their flanks, 
 And rested here for rise of sun. 
 The Apache s northern goal was won; 
 For Gila forms the boundary line 
 Between these nomads and mankind. 
 Towards the east the Rio Grande 
 Forms eastern boundary of their land; 
 The Colorado s stream runs by 
 The golden rim of their western sky. 
 
64 Apache-Land. 
 
 While beasts rushed down to water s edge 
 Their burning thirst to there assuage, 
 The Indians hastened to prepare 
 The rudest kind of hunter s fare; 
 Fat burro steaks, and roast maguey, 
 With pachete, and with mesquite tea; 
 Then washed themselves in Gila s flood, 
 To clear away the stains of blood; 
 For Apaches all from food refrain 
 Till hands are freed from bloody stain. 
 
 A watch was set upon a rise, 
 
 To guard the camp against surprise, 
 
 And Gila s rugged canon made 
 
 A strong and natural ambuscade 
 
 To trap pursuers from the south, 
 
 While others drove the cattle north; 
 
 The trail wound round by Saddle Peak, 
 
 And followed up Aliso Creek 
 
 To where San Carlos waters gleam 
 
 And form a junction with the stream. 
 
 Another night was passed in travel, 
 O er bowlders, rocks, and sand and gravel; 
 When morning s sun, o er mountain broke, 
 Revealed the blue Apache smoke 
 Arising from the rock Canada, 
 Which guards their camp and caballada 
 In horseshoe shape, the heel at mouth, 
 Egress and entrance from the south, 
 Where about a thousand Indians dwelt, 
 Who never fear nor danger felt. 
 

 
 " 
 
 LITH. Bft/TTOM.fier & CO S.f. 
 
 ANCIENT CLIFF HOUSE. 
 
Apache-Land. 65, 
 
 The camp, aroused by \vatchful scouts, 
 
 Received their braves with welcome shouts; 
 
 Made fair division of the spoil, 
 
 Without contention rude, or broil, 
 
 Each taking- fair and just proportion, 
 
 As he had furnished contribution, 
 
 Or personally efforts made 
 
 In consummation of the raid. 
 
 But what a mental agony 
 
 To know what should become of me ! 
 
 The captors were a Final band, 
 Who occupy this mountain land; 
 The Gila River on the south, 
 The mountain ranges to the north, 
 Rising in range o er range so high, 
 The topmost range shuts out the sky; 
 The Rio Verde binds the west, 
 The Rio Grande towards the east; 
 The central river, called the Salt, 
 Runs through deep canons of basalt. 
 
 The chief was Mangus Colorado, 
 A great, stern chief, without bravado 
 Red Sleeve," in English patronymic; 
 He gained this name, in barbarous mimic, 
 For deeds of savage hardihood, 
 Which covered his right arm with blood. 
 My captor was his son Cachise, 
 A chief more famed for war than peace. 
 These Indians from their captives learn 
 Many a useful art and turn. 
 
66 Apache- Land. 
 
 The old chief took my hand and spoke 
 In Spanish, with Indian gutturals broke: 
 " Young- maiden, do not shake your hands. 
 Your captors are not Mexicans, 
 But men who always spare the brave, 
 The virtue of their captives save. 
 Descended from the Mongol race, 
 These mountains form our resting-place; 
 The ancient chieftains of our clan 
 Were Tamerlane and Ghenghis Khan. 
 
 "With Asian conquests not content, 
 We came to take this continent, 
 And founded here, at old Tubac, 
 The empire old of Anahuac. 
 The Spaniard came, with thirst for gold, 
 With novel arms, that thunder rolled, 
 And drove us from the plains below 
 Overmatches for our lance and bow; 
 We ll ne er forgive their mongrel brood, 
 Until we wipe it out in blo*)d. 
 
 "But you, a woman, rest content, 
 And share my wife and daughter s tent. 
 The laws of Tartar clans forbid 
 Their sons with captive maids to wed; 
 While race of Tooglook s sons endure, 
 Their blood and lineage must be pure. 
 Your menial service will suffice 
 For this domestic sacrifice; 
 You can my daughter teach the arts 
 Which you have learned in foreign parts. 
 
Apache- Land. 67 
 
 " Our women famed for chastity 
 As ermine of Alaska s sea, 
 That cannot bear the slighest blurr 
 Upon their snow-white vesture pure. 
 Your mongrel race cut off the hair 
 From women caught in vice s lair; 
 But we, more rigid, mark the face 
 So time nor art cannot efface; ,/ 
 The punishment we have for those, 
 Is amputation of the nose." 
 
 The tents were formed of willow poles 
 Set round in circles, stuck in holes, 
 The tops made to the center meet, 
 A rustic dome gainst rain and sleet, 
 With covering of brush and hides, 
 And skins of beasts to line the sides. 
 Thus nature teaches savage men 
 First principles of art to ken, 
 First lesson in architecture given 
 From model of the dome of heaven. 
 
 The morning duty first begins 
 With filling all the water-skins, 
 Which, made of leather and rawhide, 
 With thongs of deer securely tied, 
 Contain the water for the day, 
 And hang convenient for foray; 
 These leathern botas, not ornate, 
 The heated vapour exhalate, 
 And keep the water fresh and cool 
 As mountain spring or icy pool. 
 
 
 UFI71ESIT7 
 
68 Apache- Land. 
 
 The firewood, next, was gathered in. 
 A bullock s rawhide formed the bin, 
 The fore-legs looped around our necks, 
 The hind-legs stretched on forked sticks. 
 The loads, filled in with mesquite limbs 
 And branches that the Apache trims, 
 With bark of oak and cottonwood, 
 And others that for fires are good, 
 Formed burden of such heavy ponder 
 That we could scarcely stagger under. 
 
 The morning meal prepared in haste, 
 Of bullock s steaks and mesquite paste, 
 We commenced the labors of the day, 
 The hides of savage beasts to fray; 
 They first were soaked in water-lime, 
 Subjected- then a while to brine, 
 The hair to loosen and make soft, 
 So we could easily rub it off 
 With polished drawing knives of ash, 
 Which soon made skins as soft as sash. 
 
 In season when the plant maguey 
 Gives flower to bloom its scent away 
 On desert air, in place remote 
 A plant about which Chinese wrote; 
 They called the aloe-plant " Fusang," 
 And Oriental praises sang 
 Two thousand years and more ago, 
 To fruit and flower of aloe 
 A food for either man or beast; 
 A spirit giving divine surcease. 
 
Apache- Land. 69 
 
 This aloe grows on mountain-sides, 
 In desert lands its beauty hides, 
 And yields to man its saccharine bread, 
 About the size of cabbage-head; 
 The head is cut and shorn of thorn 
 And flower which its top adorn, 
 Then placed in oven, underground, 
 And roasted till its meat is found 
 The substitute Apache bread, 
 Which nature forms from maguey-head. 
 
 The men another custom have 
 
 The leaves of maguey-head they shave, 
 
 Then mash the substance to a pulp, 
 
 Compressing all the juice of bulb 
 
 Into a vat of stout rawhides, 
 
 From which the sun the juice oxides, 
 
 Forming a simple fermentation, 
 
 Producing Apache intoxication. 
 
 This liquor, distilled in horns alembous, 
 
 Causes a "delirium tremendous." 
 
 The Tizween drink is much enjoyed; 
 To make it Indian corn s employed; 
 They bury the corn until it sprouts 
 Destroying food for drinking bouts; 
 Then grind it in a kind of tray, 
 Then boil it strong about a day; 
 Strain off the juice in willow sieve, 
 And in the sun to ferment leave. 
 The fermented juice is called tulpai, 
 On which Apache chief gets high. 
 
70 Apache-Land. 
 
 The oak majestic yields her quota, 
 The fruit of which is called bellota. 
 Gathered and stored for winter s use, 
 To give nutrition and amuse. 
 At eve, around the wild camp-fire, 
 The roasted acorn serves to tire 
 The tedium of night away; 
 And in Apache fun and play, 
 The vulgar gouber s superseded, 
 And manners to the old are heeded. 
 
 Beside the fruits of the wild cherry, 
 The manzanita bears a berry, 
 From which an acid drink is made, 
 And called a mountain lemonade; 
 The wild-pea gives its imitation 
 In this wild desert vegetation, 
 And furnishes, preserved in pod, 
 Another evidence that God, 
 In wilderness howe er remote, 
 Provides some food for man s support. 
 
 You re not so ignorant, I hope, 
 
 To think that Indians ne er use soap, 
 
 When nature spreads it in their way, 
 
 Abundant as the soft maguey. 
 
 The yucca seeds form an atole, 
 
 The root s a saponaceous amole, 
 
 Which maids and matrons freely gather, 
 
 To make a serviceable lather 
 
 To cleanse the skin as clean as snow, 
 
 And rrke the hair and pechos grow. 
 
Apache-Land. 7 1 
 
 The women gather willow boughs, 
 Which grow where er the water flows, 
 And cutting off the limbs and leaves, 
 A strong and useful basket weaves, 
 Which, tightly glued with gum mesquite, 
 With painted figures strange and neat, 
 Makes utensil which for use and looks 
 Might well be used by better folks. 
 The first domestic willow use 
 Is to cradle small Apach papoose. 
 
 The men engaged in manly games, 
 With wild, uncouth Apache names; 
 The ball of stone on horse to roll 
 With long and polished maguey pole. 
 A hole drilled half-way through the rock, 
 Gave point of vantage for the shock, 
 Which skillful rider strove to win 
 By driving pole the hole within, 
 Then riding with stone poised on high, 
 As evidence of victory. 
 
 The race-course, formed by nature s hand 
 Where rough sierras bound the land, 
 Gave ample space for coursers fleet, 
 Their match in strength and speed to meet; 
 The Apache scorns the barbed bit, 
 And (ashions bridle far more fit, 
 Of rawhide round the lower jaw, 
 With reins of hair the horse to draw; 
 Then mounting bareback on the steed, 
 He puts him to his greatest speed. 
 
7 2 Apache- Land. 
 
 To shoe a horse in fashion coarse, 
 The Apache never hurts a horse; 
 The smithy gently takes his foot, 
 And fastens on a rawhide boot, 
 Which, strapped the ankle-joint above, 
 Makes fit as tight as lady s glove; 
 The hide put on is soft and wet, 
 To make a neat and perfect set, 
 Then left in sun his hoof to dry on, 
 Makes shoe as good and hard as iron. 
 
 In games of cards the men delight, 
 
 And over monte often fight. 
 
 The cards are made of hardened leather, 
 
 Defying time, and use, and weather; 
 
 A greasy pack, with painted kings, 
 
 And queens, and jacks, and all such things, 
 
 As sportsmen typify the game, 
 
 And ladies scarcely know the name 
 
 A sport confined to men s diversion, 
 
 To which the women have aversion. 
 
 The rules adopted for the dance 
 
 Exceed the politesse of France; 
 
 The young bucks form a ring around, 
 
 The maids are placed in center ground; 
 
 And when the music from tom-tom, 
 
 Accompanied by rawhide drum, 
 
 Arouses itching of the toes, 
 
 Each maiden for her favorite goes, 
 
 Evincing thus her fond affection, 
 
 And making: natural selection. 
 
Apache-Land. 73 
 
 Each state has its Eleusinian games, 
 
 To grace events that have no names. 
 
 They here prepare a festive race 
 
 For girl arrived at woman s place, 
 
 And strew the course with flowers round, 
 
 And spread their presents on the ground. 
 
 The girl, with others more mature, 
 
 Tries what her pubert strength can endure. 
 
 The flowers and gifts, caught by the way, 
 
 Are ornaments for wedding-day. 
 
 The summer passed in sport and frolic, 
 The Apaches ne er get melancholic. 
 The autumn fruits were stored away, 
 With stacks of juicy roast maguey; 
 The skins were full of roast bellotas, 
 And mescal juice filled up the botas; 
 The costals filled with pemmican, 
 And strong meats for the wants of man. 
 The summer heats have passed away, 
 And autumn bids a fierce foray. 
 
 The Apache thinks the husbandman 
 A peon, who only tills the land 
 For use of lords of nomad race, 
 Who scorn to earn, by sweat of face, 
 The bread to feed their little ones, 
 Or clothes to clothe their pretty ones, 
 And follows out the good old plan 
 Of get who may and keep who can; 
 That herders are but Ishmaelites, 
 To fatten those who win the fights. 
 
74 Apache- Land. 
 
 The country south a hundred leagues 
 Was full of corn and wine and trigos, 
 Fat cattle, horses, mules, and pelf 
 Enough to tempt old Nick himself. 
 The natives robbed them of their land, 
 Made them a nomad robber band. 
 Why should they not retaliate, 
 And ravage, murder, vengeance sate, 
 Upon the dirty mongrel race 
 Who occupy the Spaniard s place? 
 
 The leader of the first foray, 
 
 A young chief named Pion-Senay, 
 
 Who called for braves to join his band, 
 
 For raid upon Sonora land. 
 
 They came in numbers thick and fast, 
 
 Each eager not to be the last; 
 
 Their horses fat and sleek with feed, 
 
 Their arms prepared for time of need, 
 
 Their lances polished bright as steel, 
 
 They sallied forth to rob and steal. 
 
 The new moon pointed to the south, 
 Its horns erect, presaging drouth; 
 For, like all nomads planning rides, 
 They take the planets for their guides. 
 A scanty ration served their use; 
 A leathern flask of mescal juice, 
 A buckskin bag of ground panole 
 For sustenance this formed the whole; 
 For warriors going on the scent, 
 Go free of all impediment. 
 
Apache-Land. 7 5 
 
 A full moon generally suffices, 
 Gives time enough to gain their prizes; 
 They march at night, and in the day 
 From mountain tops the roads waylay. 
 The ranchers gather herds and flocks 
 In corrals built of adobes or rocks; 
 The Apaches steal around the pens, 
 And stealthily, to gain their ends, 
 Saw doors in mud with stout hair rope, 
 And with the caballada elope. 
 
 If cunning ranchmen interpose 
 Some sticks or stones in building close, 
 So Apache saw can make no way, 
 They undertake another way; 
 The ropes are fastened on the walls, 
 The Apaches mount into corrals; 
 Each singling out the fleetest horse, 
 They await the break of day, of course, 
 When sleepy ranchmen drop the bars, 
 And scarcely can believe their stars, 
 When Apaches, with a loud hurrah, 
 Before them drive their herds afar. 
 
 The ranchmen seldom make pursuit, 
 Admonished by its bitter fruit; 
 The Apaches, watching in the rear, 
 Descry a dust in atmosphere, 
 Dispatch the booty on ahead; 
 An ambuscade is quickly made 
 Behind a ledge of rocks on road, 
 Or by the river s bank or ford. 
 Pursuers always come to grief, 
 And get far more of lead than beef. 
 
7 6 Apache- L and. 
 
 The moon was waning in the east, 
 The time had come for Apache feast, 
 When just about the break of day 
 The scouts announced Pion-Senay; 
 Three hundred head of stock he drove 
 For shelter, in our wild alcove, 
 And loads of corn, and wheat, and beans, 
 Were added to our winter means; 
 With stuffs and goods for winter dresses, 
 And ornament^ to bind our tresses. 
 
 The news, brought in by raiding band, 
 Caused great stir in Apache- land; 
 Another flag now floats the breeze, 
 And waves above the cottonwood trees. 
 The fl^g that carrion-buzzard flaws, 
 With hated nopal in his claws, t 
 Is furled and silently withdrawn. 
 Another -flag floats o er Tucson; 
 The eagle soars midst countless stars, 
 The king of birds in peace or wars. 
 
 The flag unfurled on Bunker Hill 
 Has come, the emblem of good-will, 
 A thousand leagues, or thereabouts. 
 This starry banner waves and floats, 
 Flag of the brave, flag of the free 
 It may give liberty to me. 
 They told of horsemen in blue coats, 
 And wild, resounding bugle notes; 
 And cannon thundering o er the plain, 
 And guns that fired, and fired again. 
 
Apache- Land. 77 
 
 The brave Cachise led next foray, 
 The largest raid for many a day. 
 A hundred horsemen sallied out, 
 Armed for the battle and the rout; 
 The moon scarce waned on Final hills, 
 When wails the Apache valley fills; 
 Cachise alone, of all his band, 
 Comes wounded to Apache-land. 
 The clan soon gathered in the vale, 
 To hear the wounded warrior s tale. 
 
 He said: "I led the wonted trails 
 To where the running water fails, 
 And rushes back upon the sands 
 Like coursers of Apache bands, 
 Unfit for use of man or beast, 
 So salty to the smell and taste. 
 We gathered on the Yaqui, sheep, 
 And left the herders in the sleep 
 Which sent their spirits gathering wool, 
 Where fleecy clouds above us roll. 
 
 A band of horses, next, we planned, 
 Bearing the Alamitta brand; 
 The herders made a brave defense, 
 And many felt Apache lance; 
 The rest were tied with running noose, 
 Made of their own rawhide lassos, 
 Around the neck, and left to stretch 
 Their limbs above the water-ditch, 
 On limbs of lofty alamos, 
 Which on the Alamitta grows. 
 
78 Apache- Land. 
 
 " A herd of cattle, next, were seen, 
 Upon the Noria Verde green; 
 Estrella s brand their flanks defaced. 
 The vaqueros one another raced, 
 In haste to gain their torreon, 
 While we drove all the cattle on. 
 We passed the ruined Aribac, 
 Where not a human being s track 
 Remains to mark the former state 
 Of life upon this grand estate. 
 
 "TJie Sopori towers in ruins tumble, 
 The walls of Douglass ruined crumble, 
 And none remain to work the mine, 
 Or plant the field, or tend the kine. 
 We crossed the Santa Cruz at noon, 
 Half-way from Tubac to Tucson, 
 And made a camp upon the creek, 
 Just north of Santa Rita s peak, 
 Where grama grass and woods abound, 
 And rest from our long: drive was found , 
 
 o 
 
 "We turned the cattle out to graze, 
 And made our meal of Indian maize, 
 Then stretched us out to seek repose 
 Beneath the quercus shady boughs, 
 When, like a thunder-clap upon 
 The camp, crashed the repeating-gun; 
 With steady fire of rifle-ball 
 And pistol-shot, my men all fall, 
 Dragoons in blue the camp surround, 
 And in a moment I am bound. 
 
Apache- Land. 79 
 
 " My few surviving braves were hung 
 
 On trees, to make the ravens dung, 
 
 And I, in thongs of stout rawhide, 
 
 Was led the captain s tent beside; 
 
 He said, wide pointing with his hands: 
 This land no more is Mexican s; 
 
 We bought it from the dirty race, 
 
 And come in power to take our place; 
 
 To spread our flag from mountain-top, 
 
 To guard the roads, and foray stop. 
 
 " Your race forever, from henceforth, 
 
 Must keep yourselves in mountains north; 
 The Gila s ford on south must be 
 Henceforth, your utmost boundary; 
 And each Apache across this bound, 
 In arms or stealth hereafter found, 
 Shall suffer death by rifle ball. 
 Or, if as captive he should fall, 
 He shall be hanged upon a tree, 
 As warning sign of infamy/ 
 
 "My Tartar blood boiled as he spoke; 
 As soon as I my gorge could choke, 
 I answered: This is not your land, 
 And ne er belonged to Mexican. 
 We owned this land long years ago, 
 From where the mountain rivers flow- 
 To shores of the vermilion sea. 
 Our sires have always roamed it free, 
 And we for it will bravely die, 
 Before we 11 to the mountains fly. 
 
8o Apache-Land. 
 
 " These lands were ours in nature s fee, 
 Before you whites e er crossed the sea. 
 Go back and leave us here alone; 
 Take warning now, and quick be gone. 
 Our clans are countless in the north, 
 And vengeful soon will issue forth 
 To murder, rob, waylay the roads, 
 And ambuscade the river fords. 
 We cannot live in mountain pens; 
 Go back, and let us yet be friends. 
 
 " The haughty captain got in rage 
 For he was somewhat under age 
 Bascomb by name he drew his sword, 
 And without saying another word, 
 In angry manner, most uncouth, 
 Struck me a blow upon the mouth. 
 The sentinel led me away 
 To guarded tent, at close of day, 
 In silent darkness there to brood 
 On plans of vengeance and of blood. 
 
 "I sat amid the sighing trees, 
 And bowed my head upon my knees, 
 And knit my hands into my cue, 
 Where a butcher-knife was hid from view. 
 With this I quickly cut my thongs, 
 And straight prepared to right my wrongs; 
 The guardsman shuddered with a start 
 As I plunged the knife into his heart; 
 Then, mounting horse at picket-post, 
 Cachise was soon to vision lost." 
 
Apache- Land. 81 
 
 Soon as Cachise had told his tale, 
 The tribe commenced a mournful wail. 
 A hundred braves, or ninety-nine, 
 Were sadly missed in battle line. 
 The young could scarcely bend the bow, 
 The old were too infirm to go; 
 The women, now fresh-widowed wives, 
 Began to whet the butcher knives. 
 Old Mangus rose upon his spear, 
 Commanding all around to hear. 
 
 "My son," he said, "my life is sped, 
 No more can braves by me be led. 
 In youthful days my lance drank gore 
 From Mexicans, and cried for more; 
 A treacherous and a thieving race, 
 In whom kind pity finds no place. 
 Now these Americans have come 
 In numbers strong, to seal our doom; 
 But fight them while a soul survives, 
 Fight for our homes, our sons, our wives, 
 
 "Go! light the fires on mountain peaks, 
 And tell the chiefs old Mangus speaks; 
 In tongue of flame, the war proclaim, 
 And from each clan its fealty claim; 
 Spread far and wide the war fire-brand, 
 From Colorado to Rio Grande; 
 Make treaty with the Mescal eros, , 
 
 And band with us the Coyoteros; 
 Bid Alexandro join our band, 
 And bring with him his brave command. 
 
82 Apache- Land. 
 
 "Go! tell the brave Eskiminzin 
 To come and join the battle s din; 
 Give notice to Mimbrenos bold, 
 To watch upon the canon s hold, 
 To ambuscade the road s approaches, 
 And rob the overland mail-coaches; 
 The Tonto chief, old Delashay, 
 Must guard the pass s western way, 
 And from the Casablanca s mounds 
 Must keep the Pimas within bounds. 
 
 "Send message to Qua-shack-a-ma, 
 The Yavapai chief, to join the war, 
 And even let them go as far 
 As Chemihuevis Espanquya; 
 The wily scoundrel may assist us, 
 If we would dearly buy his sisters; 
 The Mohaves, Yumas, Cocopas, 
 Are lost to sense of honor s laws, 
 And since the trade in gold began, 
 Are panders to the American. 
 
 "The Navajos are brave and good; 
 In former days they battle stood; 
 With lance in rest and horse array, 
 They led the first in wild foray; 
 But now they re fed on beef and beans, 
 Poor paupers on the stranger s means; 
 Reduced to vassalage and fear, 
 They dare not face the pale face here, 
 Although our blood is still the same, 
 For they have only changed their name. 
 
Apache- Land. 83 
 
 It boots us not who comes or goes; 
 We 11 fight to death our nation s foes. 
 Our tribe is twenty thousand strong, 
 Men and women, old and young. 
 The war-cloud gathers o er my race; 
 I go from hence to mount my place; 
 My race is run, my end has come. 
 In superstition s mountain dome, 
 My spirit watches o er the fray, 
 And waits the break of eternal day." 
 
 Ten years the war raged far and wide, 
 
 With advantage on the Apache side; 
 
 And in this time bold deeds were done, 
 
 Which would have honored Priam s son. 
 
 No Homer sings Apache praise; 
 
 No bard perpetuates their lays. 
 
 The white man s pen, with printer s ink, 
 
 Exalted deeds which fairly stink. 
 
 The prince of knaves, and liars, and cowards, 
 
 Was named the last of all the Howards. 
 
 The braves were out upon the scout, 
 The meal was thin, the meat was out; 
 The winter passed in dismal gloom; 
 Starvation seemed to be our doom. 
 The spring came on the blessed spring, 
 Which genial blessings ought to bring; 
 But here no cheerful sounds at morn, 
 No men remain to plant the corn; 
 The women wail their husbands lost; 
 Who go to war should count the cost. 
 
84 Apache- Land. 
 
 Our means of living all were spent; 
 My Pima maid and I were sent 
 To strip the willows of their leaves, 
 And bind them up in handy sheaves; 
 To strip the bark from off the tree, 
 And boil it for Apache tea. 
 The pulp, when beaten to a shred, 
 Was made in cakes, for Apache bread. 
 So great our hunger came at last, 
 That life was a continual fast. 
 
 We hid the boughs away by stealth, 
 As miser hoards his hidden wealth, 
 And in the day commenced to weave 
 A willow boat in which to leave; 
 For only thus was any hope 
 With Apache vigilance to cope. 
 For any track upon the land, 
 Would sure betray us to the band, 
 Who soon our hiding-place would find; 
 But water leaves no tracks behind. 
 
 My former knowledge of the sea 
 Was now the stead of life to me; 
 We laid the keel of willow pole, 
 Then bent the bough around the hold, 
 And firmly bound our tiny ark 
 With pliant strips of willow bark; 
 Then caulked the bottom tight and neat, 
 From stem to stem with gum mesquite; 
 And when our boat the river struck. 
 She sat the water like a duck. 
 
Apache-Land. 8 5 
 
 We launched her on the broad Salado, 
 
 As night began to cast its shadow; 
 
 And guided her among the shoals, 
 
 With willing hands and willow poles. 
 
 All night the river thundered on, 
 
 In narrow gorge and deep canon; 
 
 Its rocky banks sometimes so high, 
 
 That precipice shut out the sky. 
 
 The rapids were so steep and narrow, 
 
 The boat shot through them like an arrow. 
 
 With speed so swift by break of day, 
 The Apache camp was far away; 
 The sun first sent its silver streaks, 
 Astern, above the Chromo peaks. 
 At noon we stopped, a rest to seek, 
 In debouchure of Tonto creek, 
 And sought our hunger to appease 
 By eating bark from off the trees; 
 Of willow twigs we made a net, 
 And sylvan snare for fish was set. 
 
 The mountain trout are very shy, 
 
 But, tying in the net a fly, 
 
 They dived, their appetite to gloat, 
 
 And next were floundering in the boat. 
 
 Let captious epicures decide 
 
 If fish are better boiled or fried; 
 
 But others from experience draw 
 
 Conclusion that they re better raw; 
 
 For Oriental travelers know 
 
 The Japanese all eat them so. 
 
86 Apache- Land. 
 
 The sun aslant his evening 1 streaks 
 
 Was shedding westward of Four Peaks, 
 
 When, following his golden beam, 
 
 We launched our boat into the stream, 
 
 And soon again the light of day 
 
 Was lost to us in perils* way. 
 
 The canons high, stupendous sides 
 
 The very stars obscure and hide; 
 
 A night of such tremendous horror, 
 
 We thought we ne er should see the morrow. 
 
 The boat threw foam upon her tracks, 
 And danced along the cataracts; 
 Then caught up in the whirlpool s swirl, 
 Spun round and round in giddy whirl, 
 Till I and my poor Pima girl 
 Thought we had parted with the world. 
 But God above our lives ordains; 
 To change the plan is wrong and vain. 
 Tis all the same, on sea or land 
 We re in the hollow of his hand. 
 
 The last chute through a mountain-chain 
 Revealed to westward, verdant plain, 
 Where mountains, far as eye could see, 
 Rose up like islands from the sea. 
 In the canon we but saw the moon, 
 And on the plain the sun marked noon. 
 Enchanted river, fare thee well, 
 Your gates are like the jaws of hell. 
 The porphyry columns tower on high, 
 Mute sentinels against the sky. 
 
Apache- Land. 87 
 
 We drifted gently down the stream, 
 
 And soon my soul began to dream 
 
 Of childhood s Andalusian bowers, 
 
 And scented, perfumed Cuban flowers; 
 
 Was rocked upon the Spanish Main, 
 
 The Chinese music heard again; 
 
 Was waltzing, home at Arivac, 
 
 In arms of chief of old Tubac; 
 
 And on my satin pillow lay, 
 
 And dreamed and dreamed of wedding-day. 
 
 A gentle touch upon my head, 
 My Pima maiden gently said: 
 "See there, a smoke upon the plain; 
 We now shall meet our friends again. 
 The Pimas burn away the brush, 
 To plant against the river s flush; 
 They here mayhap may have some seed, 
 To serve us in our utmost need. 
 Our lives are safe, our freedom won, 
 Let s kneel and glorify the sun." 
 
 Again I dozed off in a dream. 
 The Pimas waded in the stream 
 To where the poppies flowerets float, 
 And gently carried out the boat; 
 They lashed some poles unto the sides, 
 And marched away with giant strides. 
 I thought again I was on horse, 
 And scouring o er the Apache course, 
 The Indians following on the plain; 
 The sun had nearly baked my brain. 
 
I Apache-Land. 
 
 The Pimas took us in their hands, 
 Like good and kind Samaritans; 
 Fed us with dainty chicken broth, 
 And gave us clothes of cotton cloth, 
 Of fiber woven by their hands, 
 From cotton raised upon their lands. 
 Old Anton Azul, the chief, was dead, 
 His children knocked him in the head; 
 A custom Pima Indians have, 
 When decrepit age should seek the grave. 
 
 If ills afflict a male adult, 
 
 They call in men of skill occult; 
 
 But woe to doctor if patient dies 
 
 His physician tends him to the skies; 
 
 The dead are buried in the ground, 
 
 And form the bulk of Pima Mound; 
 
 Their souls around the village stop, 
 
 To tend the herds and watch the crop; 
 
 The Pima spirits disenthralled, 
 
 In Pima tongue are "quetties" called. 
 
 The Pima maids, like angel sisters, 
 In every way tried to assist us, 
 To make our clothes, to comely dress, 
 And help us soon to convalesce. 
 The Willow Leaf, Hah-wul-hahake, 
 Made me her bed and board partake; 
 ^ Heosick Nunea, the Flower Singing, 
 Was always some little dainty bringing; 
 The Branching Flower, Mamelot Heosick, 
 Was nightingale among the sick. 
 
Apache- Land. 89 
 
 Nea Volpusz, the Running Song, 
 
 Was never absent from us long; 
 
 The Leaf-Wind, Hahak Hersoul, 
 
 Of mirth and laughter was the soul; 
 
 And Moi-eol, Nightshade, Belladonna, 
 
 Proved woman was the soul of honor; 
 
 Oral, Nishit, and Frothy Waters, 
 
 Were Pima matron s well-trained daughters; 
 
 The Singing Flower, Nea Heosick, 
 
 Was Pine Flower s cousin, Hook Heosick. 
 
 Vek Heosick, the Feathered Flower, 
 Had beauty for her native dower, 
 And Feather Tassel, Vek Molet, 
 Was dark blue like the violet; 
 The Shady Leaf, Tonel Hahake, 
 Helped others to sweet music make. 
 The Pima voice is soft and sweet, 
 The words in songs they oft repeat; 
 The instruments their skill affords, 
 Are made of horsehairs strung on gourds. 
 
 The Plum-like Damsel, Vek-e-mos, 
 
 Had plum-like cheeks as soft as moss; 
 
 The Snowy Leaves, Young Le Hahok, 
 
 And Che-hea-pik, the Corral Smoke, 
 
 See-aa-ke-mul, the Moving Rivers, 
 
 Who made the arrows for the quivers; 
 
 The Bounding Cloud, Cheorak Womoekuf, 
 
 Makes nearly Pima names enough; 
 
 Though Bow Flower, Kat Heosick, and Cliff Waters, 
 
 Varu Susook, are Pima daughters. 
 
90 Apache-Land. 
 
 While men deal with affairs of state, 
 Each girl s allowed to choose her mate; 
 If nature s charms fail to inspire 
 The burning flame of love s desire, 
 A candidate whose passed her teens 
 Resorts to artificial means, 
 And makes love-powder of a flower 
 " Flor de la tierra," which has the power 
 The wildest buck to fascinate, 
 And bind in the connubial state. 
 
 The courtship shy twixt boy and lass 
 
 Is carried on with looking-glass; 
 
 With wonderful finesse and tact, 
 
 They seat themselves down back to back; 
 
 And gesture love in dumb emotion, 
 
 To manifest their fond devotion. 
 
 By smiles and amatory glances, 
 
 Each suitor may divine his chances; 
 
 And when the maid gives him the pass, 
 
 She blows her breat h upon the glass. 
 
 If philter, glass, and opiate 
 Fail to secure congenial mate, 
 The Pimas never seek resort 
 In law s divorce or aid of court; 
 Never obtrude domestic strife, 
 Nor give to ridicule the wife; 
 But terminate the social bother 
 By making bargains with each other; 
 To neighbor s wife the question pop, 
 And make a neat domestic swap. 
 
Apache- Land. 9 1 
 
 I lingered here a month or more, 
 To wasted health and strength restore; 
 When preparations were begun, 
 To go on homewards by Tucson; 
 If home indeed the world contains 
 For orphan maid from captive chains/ 
 The Pimas rigged my willow boat 
 As palanquin, themselves to tote, 
 With serape of cotton spun, 
 For canopy against the sun. 
 
 My Pima maid I bade farewell, 
 Among her kindred here to dwell, 
 Where peace and plenty from the land 
 Kind nature gives with lavish hand. 
 If happiness on earth there be, 
 Those Pimas find it sans souci. 
 They worship as a god the sun, 
 As his diurnal courses run. 
 Without a thought, without a care, 
 Content and peace are resting here. 
 
 A hundred horsemen, armed with lance, 
 Half in rear and half advance, 
 Formed escort from Apache raid, 
 And guarded home the rescued maid. 
 The starry flag was high out thrown, 
 From plaza staff of old Tucson; 
 The gallants met us on the road, 
 And sweet bouquets on us bestowed; 
 The welcome s loud resound was rung, 
 As on Christian land again I sprung. 
 
92 Apache- Land. 
 
 A day of rest and gen rous cheer, 
 We then move on to San Xavier, 
 Where holy father holds a mass, 
 And sends me message not to pass, 
 But stop and render thanks to God, 
 And worship at my mother s sod. 
 These duties done, at rise of sun 
 Next day, the journey home begun, 
 And evening sun s rich golden streaks 
 Were gilding Babaquivera s peaks. 
 
 His last reflected glimmering sheen 
 "Was laid on Arivaca s green; 
 The bonfires lighted up the towers, 
 The fountain played upon the flowers, 
 When Tubac s chief, in evening dress, 
 Stood at the door, with all his mess, 
 In accents cordial, kind, and grave, 
 A hospitable welcome gave 
 At very spot in corridor, 
 Which I ll recall forevermore. 
 
 "This place is mine by law and right; 
 By courtesy, tis yours to-night. 
 From here you nevermore shall roam; 
 Stay here with me; adorn this home; 
 And while I have a crust of bread, 
 You shall have where to lay your head. 
 Go change your dress; your room s prepared, 
 Your toilet spread, your clothes well aired; 
 Be quick, no longer tempt the fates; 
 You must be hungry; dinner waits." 
 
Apache- L and. 9 3 
 
 The Tubac chief now holds the reins, 
 
 And works among the silver veins, 
 
 With steam machines of pond rous weights, 
 
 And tools imported from the States. 
 
 His German staff know how to mine, 
 
 From education on the Rhine; 
 
 Their science, skill, and shrewd design 
 
 With native labor here combine, 
 
 And in this far-off wilderness 
 
 Make silver mines a great success. 
 
 Strange, pensive man, what brought him here ? 
 
 A spirit mild thrown out of sphere. 
 
 Twas not for gold he sought this land 
 
 He scatters that with lavish hand. 
 
 For honor? No from that exempt, 
 
 He bears mankind too much contempt. 
 
 It must be some domestic woe. 
 
 If this be true, then leave it so; 
 
 A woman s mission on this globe 
 
 Is wounds to soothe not wounds to probe. 
 
 I know not, care not, what it be, 
 I know he s all the world to me. 
 I ask no grace from God nor man, 
 The soul is free, love where it can. 
 No priestly hands can give it ease, 
 Much less a justice of the peace. 
 The world and I are far apart, 
 I have no guide but my own heart. 
 This mentor swells within my breast, 
 And softens when I am caressed. 
 
94 Apache- Land. 
 
 The days and weeks and months passed on, 
 
 The memory of sorrow s gone. 
 
 The lotus leaves formed all our food, 
 
 We spent the time in doing good. 
 
 No man applied for work in vain, 
 
 No woman left alone in pain; 
 
 The country round for a hundred miles 
 
 Was clad in fortune s prosperous smiles; 
 
 The engines thundered night and day, 
 
 In grinding ores of richest ley. 
 
 A little music now and then, 
 At eve a gallop on the plain. 
 My mare, as white as driven snow, 
 Was trained in canter fast to go. 
 With riding-dress and snow-white plume, 
 My health again began to bloom. 
 My chief bestrode a coal-black steed 
 Of famous rancher Maxwell s breed. 
 " Tempest " and " Sunshine," names devised 
 To typify our checkered lives. 
 
 A year passed by as but a day, 
 The flowers began to bloom in May; 
 My garden occupied my time, 
 My chief was busy with the mine; 
 One day in June, with clouded brow 
 A rare occurrence with him now 
 An official paper in his hand, 
 Sent by the captain, in command 
 Of Fort Buchanan, rueful name, 
 Forever linked to nation s shame. 
 
Apache- Land. 95 
 
 "My dear," he said, "this paper says 
 Some things that soon must part our ways; 
 The war-cloud bursting in the south, 
 Has brought its direful vengeance forth. 
 Old Twiggs surrendered his command 
 In Texas, to the rebel band; 
 And Lynde, upon the Rio Grande, 
 Has made his gallant troops disband. 
 The flag in which we put our trust, 
 Dishonored now, trails in the dust. 
 
 "This order here, alas! proclaims, 
 This country must be given to flames, 
 And nothing left upon the land, 
 From Colorado to Rio Grande, 
 Which can an enemy maintain, 
 Or let them food or aid obtain. 
 They fear a California raid, 
 And order the road a desert made; 
 The troops march out with shotted gun, 
 The flag first meets the eastern sun. 
 
 "I cannot hold against the tide 
 And clash of arms on every side; 
 The Apaches will be down from north, 
 And robber Mexicans from south. 
 The people hear the battle cry, 
 And from this waste begin to fly. 
 One hope remains, and only one, 
 And for this you must soon be gone. 
 Tis imperative that you should go 
 To work our plans in Mexico. 
 
9 6 Apache- Land. 
 
 "See Maxmilian; bribe Bazaine; 
 Join the good Carlotta s train. 
 For full ten million francs take bills; 
 The bank of France our silver fills. 
 Spread presents out with lavish hand, 
 Strain every nerve to hold our land. 
 Tell Maxmilian, one command 
 Can hold the pass of Rio Grande; 
 To Guaymas let him send gunboats, 
 And here the flag of empire floats. 
 
 "Good Hulsemann shall go with you; 
 He s always been most kind and true, 
 Speaks every tongue beneath the sun, 
 And of my staff s the chosen one. 
 Your beauty, since I ve won the prize, 
 May go to dazzle other eyes. 
 Your heart, firm locked in my embrace, 
 Will scarcely seek another place. 
 The tempest past, sunshine again, 
 We ll canter lightly o er the plain." 
 
 We parted at the corridor; 
 
 Oh! when shall we two meet once more? 
 
 That, God himself alone can tell; 
 
 I go to do my duty well. 
 
 From Guaymas port to Mazatlan 
 
 We sailed in vessel contraband. 
 
 From here, through land of fair Valencia, 
 
 We passed in country dilijencia, 
 
 To where the mountain water falls 
 
 Round Montezurna s ruined halls. 
 
Apache- Land. 97 
 
 Great Cortez found an empire here, 
 On continent without a peer. 
 The Spaniards ruled with iron rod, 
 And taught with lash the love of God. 
 The natives, lashed to desperation, 
 In vain have tried to make a nation; 
 Their vengeful natures spill the blood 
 Of all who try to do them good. 
 First Iturbide s blood was spilled, 
 And Indians seize the place he filled. 
 
 Burr s scheme, the next, was well designed 
 
 Ambition almost unconfined. 
 
 But factions rampant in the state, 
 
 Forbid this should be consummate. 
 
 The English then, to break Spain s power, 
 
 Watched every point, and seized the hour 
 
 Of America s weakest President; 
 
 A diplomatic message sent, 
 
 And Canning s cunning doctrine goes 
 
 Down history s gullet as Monroe s. 
 
 The piebald nations which proclaim 
 "Republic" only so in name 
 Are natural offspring of the trick 
 Which royalty imposed so slick 
 On Uncle Sam, then but a boy, 
 And tickled with his new-found toy. 
 This hybrid race are like their mules 
 Begot in breach of nature s rules; 
 Which God forbids to leave a trace, 
 By getting others of their race. 
 
98 Apache- Land. 
 
 The great Scott came with fuss and feathers; 
 
 In Montezuma s halls he tethers, 
 
 And had not very long been there, 
 
 When he cries, " Help, to let go this bear." 
 
 The Sphinx of France, next, looked afar, 
 
 To guard against domestic war, 
 
 And give the chivalry of France, 
 
 At Mexico, a little chance; 
 
 But figurehead for this emprise, 
 
 Must noble blood and name comprise. 
 
 O erlooking Adriatic Sea, 
 If fairer scene on earth there be, 
 It must be some gemmed crystal star, 
 To eclipse the charms of Mir-a-Mar. 
 Here Maximilian lived at peace 
 With all the world, and took his ease. 
 The blood of Caesar through his veins, 
 (His brother Frank in Austria reigns), 
 Contented here to reign supreme; 
 With Charlotte, life passed as a dream. 
 
 The Sphinx got Mexicans to go 
 To tempt with crown of Mexico. 
 Oh! man whose youth has never read 
 That we by toil must earn our bread, 
 Who has not parable in mind 
 When Christ told Satan "get behind?" 
 These lessons, lost in Mir-a-Mar, 
 Commenced history of a fallen star. 
 The Caesar s blood all scruples drown, 
 And he accepts the worthless crown. 
 
Apache- Land. 99 
 
 Installed in Montezuma s halls, 
 
 He holds his court and gives his balls. 
 
 The rabble shout with loud acclaim, 
 
 Viva the Maximilian name! 
 
 The dirty throng, on turn of flood, 
 
 Will be the first to drink his blood. 
 
 Twas ever so from Christ till now, 
 
 With people wallowing in the slough; 
 
 And he must drink the bitter cup, 
 
 Who ever tries to lift them up. 
 
 Carlotta s court was pure and good; 
 
 An empress, every inch, she stood. 
 
 Daughter of kings and queens as well, 
 
 She was, of all her courts, the belle. 
 
 Her ladies mostly came from France, 
 
 To seek in Mexico, romance, 
 
 And in the German s dirty messes 
 
 Some American adventuresses; 
 
 But those received most privily, 
 
 Were "Belgium s beauty and her chivalry." 
 
 Bazaine had quite his fortune made 
 By wedding wealthy native maid, 
 Whose sympathy at once came forth 
 To young ambassadress from the north; 
 And through her genuine support 
 I received the entree into court, 
 And began to play my woman s part 
 To work the plans I had at heart. 
 I gave Bazaine a million francs, 
 Which he politely took, "with thanks." 
 
ioo Apache- Land. 
 
 He promised troops should issue forth 
 
 To take possession of the north. 
 
 The "Corps Belgique " was sent that way, 
 
 But only served to draw their pay. 
 
 They stopped along to drink their wine, 
 
 And never tried to cross the line. 
 
 The French troops lingered in each town, 
 
 Where cards and absinthe most abound. 
 
 The Emperor s rival, bold Bazaine, 
 
 Spoiled all by his desire to reign. 
 
 The Empress listened to my plaint, 
 And soothed me like a very saint. 
 "My child," she said, "come live with me, 
 And I will like a mother be. 
 I need one faithful friend at hand, 
 Not native of this treacherous land, 
 And yet with tongue and face extern 
 That sharpest spy cannot discern; 
 And more, I need myself about 
 One who with gold cannot be bought." 
 
 The empire spread from sea to sea, 
 
 Its flag protected bond and free; 
 
 And Maximilian was elate 
 
 A nation to regenerate. 
 
 One traitor thwarted all his plans, 
 
 Controlled his court, and tied his hands. 
 
 The Empress saw it very plain. 
 
 A rule like this was all in vain; 
 
 To rend this knot, the only chance 
 
 Was that she quickly go to France. 
 
Apache- Land. 101 
 
 Again upon the treach rous sea, 
 
 With ample escort, I and she. 
 
 In France her grandsire ruled, a king; 
 
 She comes a suppliant now, to bring 
 
 An Emperor s supplication near 
 
 The throne of one who cannot hear 
 
 Unless self-interest whets his ear. 
 
 The stone in Egypt s not more dumb, 
 
 The Sphinx itself is not more glum, 
 
 Than Bonapartes when Hapsburgs come. 
 
 We saw the cortege rolling out, 
 And heard the dirty rabble shout 
 "Vive 1 Empereur!" from palace-yard, 
 Along the gay-thronged boulevard. 
 The Sphinx sat in his coach of state; 
 Beside him sat his handsome mate. 
 Isis, Osiris, Nilus gods, 
 O er whom old hoary Egypt nods, 
 Transplanted here, less out of place 
 Than Corsican and Spanish race. 
 
 The Empress, crushed with her defeat, 
 Could neither now nor sleep nor eat; 
 Resolved to try another chance, 
 And see the greatest man in France 
 Thiers had served her grandsire well 
 And if mortal man could tell 
 The way to make Bazaine disgorge, 
 Twas Wizard of the Place St. George, 
 For here long dwelt the State coquette, 
 Corner Rue Notre Dame de Lorette. 
 
IO2 Apache- Land. 
 
 I went with her to Monsieur Thiers; 
 He was greatly moved by Charlotte s tears: 
 "My child, I loved your grandsire well; 
 He neglected my advice and fell. 
 Now this affair of Mexico 
 Gives Napoleon s empire its last blow; 
 He dances on a floor of glass; 
 This empire soon away must pass. 
 Recall your husband from afar, 
 And seek your home at Miramar." 
 
 My noble mistress, crushed with grief, 
 In floods of tears sought some relief. 
 "My child," she said, "one only hope, 
 And that to go and see the Pope. 
 The Holy Father sure must know 
 The need of saving Mexico. 
 Three hundred years a Christian land, 
 He must not yield it to the band 
 Of outlaws under Juarez s flag; 
 The Pope must issue forth his gag." 
 
 I wrote my chief a full account 
 Of what I here give dim recount, 
 And sent it, when I had it done, 
 By fastest mail to Washington, 
 In case they d forced him to succumb, 
 And to the capital he d come. 
 We had no other care in France; 
 The Pope was now our only chance, 
 Where flag of Christ was high unfurled, 
 Vicegerent of the Christian world. 
 
Apache-Land. 103 
 
 In France, the spies around us crept; 
 The " Mouchards " watched our every step. 
 "Liberte, Egalite, Fraternite" bah! 
 These only live in English law, 
 Where Queen and subject, each in place, 
 Form highest type of human race. 
 We passed through tunnel Mont Cenis, 
 And reached the plains of Italy, 
 The fairest land the sun shone on; 
 Her sons undying fame have won. 
 
 Arrived in Rome, Saint Peter s home, 
 Where Pio Nino holds the dome 
 Of Angelo, till Christ shall come. 
 All creeds pass by like filthy dross; 
 This creed is founded on the cross 
 Which Jesus, in his anguish, bore 
 To save the world for evermore. 
 With faith and hope divine supernal, 
 He linked him to the world fraternal, 
 That we should enter life eternal. 
 
 Established in our rooms of state, 
 I next upon my bankers wait. 
 A messenger, with profound salaam, 
 Hands me a cable telegram: 
 
 WASHINGTON, April 15,1867. 
 
 ANITA, care of EYRE & MATTINI, Bankers, Rome: 
 
 " See Giulia Antonetti, 14 Montebello. She will introduce you to Baroness 
 , Antonelli s mistress. Lavish money. Hope Pope. 
 
 "4-15. Pd. CHIEF. 
 
IO4 Apache-Land. 
 
 This Giulia lived upon a street 
 Where evening promenaders meet, 
 And Roman lovers there arrange 
 Their salutations to exchange. 
 A little girl at window sat, 
 Each passing carriage gazing at, 
 And when the Cardinal passed by, 
 The child would always "Papa" cry. 
 The Antonetti was passe, 
 "Ancien maitresse," the French would say. 
 
 A little billet of exchange 
 Convenient medium to arrange 
 A meeting with the Baroness, 
 And left with Giulia my address. 
 The Baroness spoke Spanish well, 
 Though what her race I could not tell.] 
 Accomplished much in every art, 
 She gave the Cardinal her heart. 
 She promised at an early day 
 Assistance meet to pave the way. 
 
 The Antonetti s courtly grace 
 
 Excelled all courtly Latin race; 
 
 In tones as gentle as a child, 
 
 He soothed my fears in accents mild, 
 
 And gave assurance doubly sure, 
 
 The Pope would all dissensions cure, 
 
 And teach the upstart Bonaparte 
 
 A lesson that would wring his heart; 
 
 He pocketed a million francs, 
 
 And took his leave with "gracious thanks. 
 
Apache-Land. 105 
 
 The Pope appointed soon a day 
 To have his ushers clear the way 
 To give the Empress audience, 
 And receive her due obedience. 
 When seated robed in Peter s chair, 
 He deigns all mortal plaints to hear; 
 Counsels faith, and hope, and charity, 
 And virtue of Christian rarity 
 Only through him are sins forgiven; 
 He holds the very keys of heaven. 
 
 The Empress fell at Pius feet, 
 And poured her plaint in tones so sweet 
 That Christ himself, had he been here, 
 Must needs in pity shed a tear. 
 She told her noble husband s wrongs: 
 How he was bound in Bazaine s thongs- 
 How Maximilian went for good 
 How he and she had noble blood 
 What plans they made on high to hoist 
 In Mexico the cross of Christ. 
 
 My daughter, earth s of no avail; 
 I must the truth to you unveil: 
 Your noble husband s dead! On high 
 His soul reposes in the sky; 
 Intent alone on doing good, 
 The Mexicans have shed his blood." 
 A shriek, that Peter s dome had riven, 
 Ascended to the gates of heaven; 
 A soul the best God can create, 
 Has gone to heaven to join its mate. 
 
io6 Apache- Land. 
 
 The mind s the soul. When this departs, 
 
 Clay only forms the grosser parts. 
 
 The ethereal spirit comes from God; 
 
 It never rests beneath the sod. 
 
 In prison-house but for a day, 
 
 The soul oft longs to fly away; 
 
 To shake away the carnal dust, 
 
 And meet the spirits of the just; 
 
 To mount to heaven s distant blue, 
 
 And get the last eternal view. 
 
 In Schoenbrunn s noble palace walls, 
 In Francis Joseph s ancestral halls, 
 Mid flowers, trees, and shrubbery hid, 
 My mistress lies an invalid. 
 The Austrian flag bears o er the sea 
 What yet of Hapsburg s son there be, 
 To rest beneath the lofty spire 
 Of Kaiser s tomb in St. Sophia, 
 Where mausoleums of kingly great 
 Repose in dim, sepulchral state. 
 
 His hatchment hung, 
 His requiem sung, 
 We seek another change of scene, 
 And start for famed Ardennes green, 
 When Belgian lion rears his head 
 Above the mound of honored dead, 
 Who fighting, sturdy, brave, and true, 
 Gave up their lives at Waterloo; 
 Pointing his dexter arm at France 
 Mute warning gainst an armed advance. 
 
Apache-Land. 107 
 
 * 
 The Guelphs here hold their regal court, 
 
 In Belgium s capital and fort ; 
 The sister of the reigning king 
 Comes home a broken heart to bring, 
 Where cannon thundered at her birth, 
 And she was blessed with all of earth. 
 The sight of Laaken s palace wood 
 May do the stricken sufferer good; 
 For here she played a little child, 
 When Nature all around her smiled. 
 
 In Brussels once I met a friend 
 Who stayed in Mexico to the end. 
 His mission there was education 
 The last hope for regeneration. 
 A protege of the house of Coburg, 
 The Abbe Seur Brasseur de Bourbourg. 
 He was Maxmilian s court librarian 
 A famous Aztec antiquarian. 
 I sought advice from his strong mind, 
 A father s aid and counsel kind. 
 
 He said: All was lost of temporal power, 
 
 But Mexico was Mary s dower; 
 
 And no earthly power should wrest away 
 
 The richest gem in the Church s lay; 
 
 That Jesuit Order was ordained 
 
 To see that Mary s rights were gained; 
 
 That Father Beckh, a priest discreet, 
 
 Now filled the great Loyola s seat; 
 
 That he was now in Belgic land 
 
 Arranging a Western propagand. 
 
io8 Apache-Land. 
 
 That Mexico was not the whole: 
 
 America was now the goal. 
 
 The United States had equal laws, 
 
 Which were beneficial to the cause; 
 
 Enabling them, by education, 
 
 No doubt, ere long, to rule the nation, 
 
 For each political dispute 
 
 Advantage gives to the astute; 
 
 Then as crusaders we will go, 
 
 And repossess our Mexico. 
 
 Some Belgian nuns were about to start, 
 From Convent of the Sacred Heart, 
 By German Lloyds ship " Pomona," 
 To open schools in Arizona! 
 Mother Emerantia was lady superior, 
 Accompanied by ten inferior 
 Sisters Hyacinth, Maximus, Ambrosia, 
 Monica, Martha, Mary, Euphrasia, 
 Lucretia, Francesca and Irene; 
 And I m called Sister Seraphine. 
 
 The Abbe thought this was my chance; 
 There s nothing more to do in France, 
 And nothing can be done in Rome; 
 The Imperial troops are ordered home 
 At bid of the Republic North, 
 Which from the civil war came forth 
 Like giant who has tried his strength, 
 And found it equal to his length. 
 It stands colossal on two seas, 
 And fears not foreign enemies. 
 
Apache-Land. 109 
 
 We soon arrived in fair New York, 
 And paid our dues to Central Park. 
 When driving through the upper part 
 To Convent of the Sacred Heart. 
 And while the party rested here, 
 I made a visit far more dear, 
 And went, accompanied by a nun, 
 To seek my chief in Washington. 
 He was to Arizona gone, 
 And I returned both sad and lone. 
 
 Another voyage on the sea 
 
 God grant it be the last for me. 
 
 The old familiar southern star 
 
 Shone brightly over Panama; 
 
 The steamers still were wont to go 
 
 Along the coast of Mexico. 
 
 We passed in sight of old St. Luke, 
 
 And Sonora-land without a duke, 
 
 In safety landing men and freight, 
 
 In city of the Golden Gate. 
 
 Our mission first was Santa Clara, 
 To get the Bishop to prepare 
 Instructions for our journey on 
 To Arizona and Tucson. 
 Our party here received addition, 
 Two Jesuit fathers from the Mission 
 Father Bosco, a native Frenchman, 
 The Italian Messia was his henchman. 
 The Jesuits always work in pairs, 
 The inferior blind obedience swears. 
 
no Apache-Land. 
 
 Again on sea we are afloat, 
 
 To Los Angeles by coastwise boat; 
 
 To Yuma, hence, a hundred leagues 
 
 Of desert, man and beast fatigues. 
 
 The ambulance out here is used 
 
 (The name it bears somewhat confused) 
 
 For transportation on the plains, 
 
 On deserts, and o er mountain chains. 
 
 In this conveyance we took our seat, 
 
 And sailed along with the desert fleet. 
 
 The desert s glimmering mirage 
 
 Is likened only to the Taj, 
 
 In India raised tween earth and sky, 
 
 An architectural mystery: 
 
 A fleet of ships before our eyes, 
 
 Half-way between the earth and skies; 
 
 Their canvas spread with purple clouds, 
 
 Their flags all waving in the shrouds; 
 
 Then from our vision swift they flee 
 
 Like navy swallowed up at sea. 
 
 Then next a palace railway train 
 With flying banners scours the plain, 
 The snowy kerchiefs waving out 
 The windows; but we hear no shout. 
 Then just before a sea of glass 
 Obstructs the way, and stops the pass; 
 And on the other side the plain 
 Comes moving down another train, 
 Just like our own, to meet our own. 
 A moment sea and train are gone. 
 
TJSI7BRSIT7 
 
Apache-Land. 1 1 1 
 
 A night passed on the desert gives 
 Impression deep while mem ry lives. 
 The sun sinks in a sea of sand, 
 And stillness settles o er the land. 
 The amber moon rides in the sky 
 Clothed in the desert s panoply. 
 The stars which lighten other lands, 
 Here fairly phosphorate the sands. 
 Such silence to the desert s given, 
 A whisper here would reach to heaven. 
 
 Arrived on Colorado s banks, 
 We held a mass and rendered thanks. 
 This turbid river issues forth 
 From mystic canons of the north, 
 Where Spaniards centuries ago 
 With wonder saw its waters flow 
 Two thousand varas neath the brink. 
 W r hile perishing for some to drink, 
 They followed it three hundred miles 
 By precipice, through Indian wilds. 
 
 Fort Yuma now stands on the hill 
 
 Where Gila s brighter waters fill 
 
 The Colorado s muddy bank, 
 
 Just opposite the soldiers tank, 
 
 Twas built on site of Yuma land 
 
 By brave old General Heintzelman. 
 
 On the other side, on sandy ground, 
 
 My chief with him laid out a town ; * 
 
 But neither now, from squatter band, 
 
 Can claim a single foot of land. 
 
112 Apache-Land. 
 
 The Yumas live in this precinct, 
 A race of Indians near extinct. 
 The white man s presence does no good; 
 They sell them rum for firewood, 
 Which steamboat-owners have to buy, 
 For boats that on the river ply. 
 The women lounge about the post; 
 The prettiest ones are soonest lost : 
 But this is somewhat delicate matter 
 The less we say of it, the better. 
 
 While camped upon the river s bank, 
 
 A Yuma girl in illness sank, 
 
 And gave her gentle spirit up 
 
 From contact with the poisoned cup. 
 
 The chief came kindly to invite 
 
 Our party to the funeral rite. 
 
 The pyre was raised of mesquite wood; 
 
 At head of tomb the old chief stood; 
 
 The maid was stretched upon the pyre, 
 
 Which soon was wreathed by tongues of fire. 
 
 Her young companions stood around, 
 Their sorrow not evinced by sound, 
 But actions, louder far than words, 
 Proved their sincere and deep regards ; 
 Each took some article of dress 
 A handkerchief or bead necklace 
 Some token of their childish games, 
 And with their sorrow fed the flames. 
 All worldly treasures now they spurn; 
 In silent sadness thus they mourn. 
 
Apache-Land. 1 1 3 
 
 The Yumas are a stalwart race, 
 Erect in form and fair in face. 
 A full six feet the men would beat, 
 From tip to toe, in stocking-feet 
 That is, if they but stocking s wore ; 
 But this incumbrance they ignore ; 
 And custom also kindly grants 
 Unmentionable lack of pants. 
 Like other men who re better bred, 
 They mostly cultivate the head. 
 
 The river brings at highest flood 
 
 A sediment like Nilus mud, 
 
 Enriching all it overflows ; 
 
 The Yuma s pumpkin crop then grows. 
 
 In Congress once, to help these toilers, 
 
 My chief got a hundred thousand dollars, 
 
 To make in Colorado s val, % 
 
 An irrigating canal. 
 
 The coin was in California spent 
 
 By a brother-in-law of the President. 
 
 This sediment the Yumas spread 
 In plaster thick upon the head, 
 Their dirty, long, black hair to scour, 
 And make "coif a la Pompadour/ 
 Tis said it long preserves the hair 
 From turning gray by age s wear; 
 Serves for a helmet in campaign; 
 From sun protects the Yuma brain. 
 Another thing not quite so nice, 
 It s sure to kill the well, not rice. 
 
H4 Apache-Land. 
 
 In early days the women s dress 
 
 Was famous for its pliantness. 
 
 A cord between two trees was placed, 
 
 And tied to measure round the waist ; 
 
 Then inner bark of cottonwood, 
 
 In ribbons long 1 , and strong, and good, 
 
 Was doubled on the rope and tied, 
 
 The middle part made treble wide; 
 
 For women s tastes are all the same 
 
 In Yuma maid or Paris dame. 
 
 The cord then tied around the waist, 
 The Yuma girl is quickly drest. 
 Her sylvan silk floats in the breeze, 
 And does not reach below the knees; 
 Impartial, too, above the waist 
 Her charms are left as Nature graced; 
 Then of her new-made costume proud, 
 She struts about among the crowd, 
 As every man must have a notion, 
 The very "poetry of motion." 
 
 But civilization s changed all this; 
 The flowing costume now you ll miss. 
 Red figured calico, grotesquer, 
 Supplants the undulating fresco, 
 Reaching above and below the knees. 
 The women lie and take their ease, 
 Exalted now above their sphere; 
 As is, perhaps, the case elsewhere. 
 They flirt, cajole, coquet, and wheedle 
 While men sit by and ply the needle. 
 
1 1 6 Apache-Land. 
 
 The Cocopas live near the mouth. 
 They have no rains, and yet no drouth. 
 In huts of tule, firmly tied, 
 They rise and fall upon the tide. 
 Amphibious, as their name implies, 
 They live in water with gnats and flies. 
 Outlandish here they live on fish, 
 And spend a life somewhat rakish: 
 In dissipation, cards, and sloth, 
 Dressed in a little cotton cloth. 
 
 Returned from visit to the tide, 
 We anchored on the other side; 
 Just where the river s delta falls, 
 Below the Mission of St. Pauls; 
 Where Spanish priests in early days 
 Taught Yumas how to sing God s praise. 
 But they, perhaps for want of brains, 
 Killed all the priests to reward their pains. 
 We might go north, to the north pole; 
 But up the Gila is our role. 
 
 The map then had not, what a pity! 
 
 Been dignified by Gila City, 
 
 Reminding of the City of Peth, 
 
 Where one man lived, two starved to death. 
 
 Our first night was in Mission Camp," 
 
 Where the river-bed was somewhat damp; 
 
 For in former travels here I found 
 
 The rivers all run under ground. 
 
 This is a land of contradictions, 
 
 Involving one in endless fictions. 
 
Apache-Land. 117 
 
 This camp was named for the commission 
 
 In early days sent on a mission, 
 
 When emigration first begun, 
 
 The nation s boundary to run, 
 
 Where Gila s waters ought to flow 
 
 Between the States and Mexico. 
 
 The commissary stores ran out, 
 
 The Com. himself was not about 
 
 (In writing always omit the Com.), 
 
 They broke up camp and started home. 
 
 Filibuster Camp next we reach, 
 
 This camp can moral lessons teach: 
 
 Some brave, strong men, long years ago, 
 
 From here invaded Mexico, 
 
 On promise made to them by greasers, 
 
 That they \vould fight like very Caesars 
 
 To make republic in Sonora. 
 
 They met a death both swift and gory. 
 
 From this a useful lesson learn; 
 
 Twixt* whites and greasers quick discern. 
 
 \Ve next pass peak of Antelope, 
 Where road with river has to cope; 
 Where once, in happy days gone by, 
 The harmless antelope could fly 
 From plains into the river s brink, 
 To quench its thirst with Gila s drink; 
 Where mountain goats on high could roam, 
 Surveying all around their home. 
 Now antelope or mountain goat 
 That venture here must risk a shot. 
 
1 1 8 Apache- Land. 
 
 A long 1 , dry ride, and longer walk, 
 
 From here to next place Camp Mohawk. 
 
 Arriving at this misplaced name, 
 
 We found the scenery rather tame, 
 
 And turned around to take a view 
 
 Of scenery passed, ere entering new. 
 
 The Castle Dome looms in the north, 
 
 Like giant desert behemoth, 
 
 And western sun the vision thrills 
 
 O er Yuma s gold and purple hills. 
 
 On south, the tenaja alta reigns, 
 The western boundary of the plains, 
 Whose tanks, formed out of solid rock, 
 In summer held the only stock 
 Of water in a hundred miles; 
 Whose serried edges and defiles 
 Accessible to mountain goat, 
 Or Mexicans who water tote 
 In leathern botas on long drives, 
 In desert lands to save their lives. 
 
 Next, Texas Hill looms on the plain. 
 Its summit we will never gain, 
 Nor base of scoria can surround, 
 Grim remnant of volcanic mound,, 
 Forbidding, black, and desert ground. 
 What tales of horror here abound! 
 Fit place to murder and to rob; 
 The devil superintends the job. 
 He has not far away to roam, 
 For this looks like his very home. 
 
Apache-Land, 1 1 9 
 
 The teamsters camp we next approach, 
 And meet an overland stage-coach, 
 With mails and passengers, and news, 
 A desert treat which all diffuse; 
 Like ships when passing close at sea, 
 The desert has its courtesy. 
 A laguna on the southern bank 
 Forms convenient rendezvous and tank 
 For bathing in the summer day, 
 When train in hot noontide must stay. 
 
 At Stanwix Camp, we crossed the stream 
 To make a visit, like a dream, 
 Upon a fair Apache girl, 
 Of all her tribe the very pearl; 
 Who had abandoned her own race 
 To nestle here with a pale-face. 
 These two alone lived here alone, 
 And bid the robber Time begone, 
 Not counting year, nor month, nor sun, 
 And caring for no other one. 
 
 Agua Caliente, in Spanish called; 
 
 A spring that healed e en those who crawled 
 
 To bathe their limbs in its warm waters; 
 
 For years used by Apache daughters, 
 
 As Indian maidens charm divine 
 
 To make their skin as velvet fine. 
 
 The old, wild feeling came again 
 
 To strip and plunge me in the bain, 
 
 And there in bath, like two giours, 
 
 Marie and I talked on for hours. 
 
I2O Apache- Land. 
 
 We talked of old Apache camp, 
 
 And things that sounded rather damp 
 
 To ears polite from Europe s courts, 
 
 So different from Apache sports; 
 
 Of wars and all of war s alarms; 
 
 Of Apache wrongs, Apache harms; 
 
 Of wedded life, and how it went, 
 
 And how the days and nights were spent; 
 
 And last, not least, to assuage my grief, 
 
 I asked Marie about my chief. 
 
 She said he d come with high commission 
 To settle the Indians condition, 
 And passed along the Gila way, 
 With train and troops in grand array; 
 Had called to talk with her and G. 
 About old times, perhaps bout me; 
 That tales came down the river road 
 Of quarrels high, and strife, and blood, 
 And great dissensions among the whites 
 About the cause of Indian rights; 
 
 That new men came to make more bother, 
 Knew not one Indian from another; 
 That afterwards she heard from Burks 
 By one of Col. King Woolsey s clerks: 
 He d gone down the road in angry mood, 
 And left the place at last for good; 
 E en had not called in passing by, 
 To pay salutes, or say good-by. 
 I turned away at this surprise, 
 Suspended talk, and washed my eyes. 
 
Apache-Land. 121 
 
 I lay musing in the limpid bath, 
 Upon life s strange and winding path; 
 My hair down flowing to my waist, 
 My heaving bosom to embrace. 
 The buoyant water exposed to view 
 My rounded limbs, and shadows threw, 
 Pellucid twins, into the stream, 
 W r hich washed away life s dearest dream. 
 I robed my heavy bosoms swell, 
 And bade Marie a kind farewell. 
 
 We crossed the river at Burks s ford, 
 And passed along the mesa road, 
 To where a hollow on the plat 
 The history marks of Oatman Flat. 
 In eighteen hundred and fifty-two 
 A traveler could have had this view: 
 An emigrant struggling up the hill, 
 His wife and children the wagon fill. 
 The Tontos following on his track, 
 The moment seized for fierce attack. 
 
 The husband s brains soon strew the road, 
 The wife and children dead are strewed; 
 Save two girls, whose lives are saved, 
 And Indian captives they are made. 
 A boy left for dead upon the road, 
 Was found by Pimas who that way rode, 
 And nursed by these Samaritans 
 (Who are falsely called barbarians), 
 With tenderness and care quite human, 
 Till he was fit to send to Yuma. 
 
122 Apache- L and. 
 
 The girls were carried to the north, 
 
 From whence the Tonto band came forth, 
 
 To mountains where the mixed tribes range, 
 
 And in course of time, by fair exchange, 
 
 From desert plains and beds of lava, 
 
 To richer valley of Mohave, 
 
 Where, as Indian vague tradition saith, 
 
 The younger one succumbed to death. 
 
 Her sister Olive feared her knell, 
 
 But she was rescued by Grinnell. 
 
 A grave in sad and lonely place, 
 A little fence of stones embrace 
 Made by some voyagers on the plains 
 All that was found of their remains. 
 The scene accorded with my heart : 
 Each plays in life his fated part ; 
 In desert lands some find their graves, 
 And some in death the deep-sea laves. 
 My contemplation s rather blue, 
 For I have been a captive too. 
 
 The Painted Rocks claim notice next, 
 All covered o er with Indian text, 
 In hieroglyphic bows and clubs, 
 To pose some antiquarian Stubbs ; 
 But versed somewhat in Indian lore 
 From education heretofore, 
 I read the signs as treaties made 
 By tribes, each other not to raid. 
 From Yuma lands to Pima s mound, 
 Tis- monumental half-way ground. 
 
Apache- Land. 123 
 
 Arrived at last at Gila bend, 
 
 Our river journey comes to end. 
 
 Tis wise to stop here wheels to tauter, 
 
 To rest, and fill the cans with water, 
 
 And prepare the mules the trip to stand 
 
 O er Maricopa Desert s sand. 
 
 Tis forty miles, or forty-five, 
 
 To where a human being can live; 
 
 And as there s always ample light, 
 
 Tis best to cross it in the night. 
 
 The Maricopa wells we gain, 
 And turn to graze the weary train; 
 For here in peace and calm content 
 The Maricopas lives are spent. 
 A people stalwart, brave, and frank, 
 Driven from Colorado s bank 
 By intestine wars, long years ago, 
 They here in peace and plenty sow 
 A kind of desert fringe cedemous, 
 Affiliated with the Pimas. 
 
 The women friendly, full of humor, 
 Were somewhat darker than the Yuma; 
 Wore cotton strips around the waist 
 I judge they are not very chaste. 
 The men, a brave and honest race, 
 Stalwart in form and strong in face. 
 The chief, among them greatest man, 
 Came with a paper in his hand, 
 Unfolded from a buckskin roll, 
 And stood for us to read the scroll. 
 
124 Apache- Land. 
 
 UNITED STATES SUPERINTENDENCY OF INDIAN AFFAIRS 
 FOR ARIZONA. 
 
 JANUARY 10, 1864. 
 
 This is to certify that Juan Chivarea is the recognized captain and chief of 
 the MARICOPA tribe of Indians. All officers and citizens of the United States 
 are respectfully requested to treat him as such. ^ - 
 
 CHARLES D. POSTON, ( Seal { 
 
 Superintendent. * ** 
 
 From here above for twenty miles 
 The Pima cultivation smiles. 
 You do not see it by the road; 
 The river s bank is their abode. 
 Arrived at Pima Agent s Station, 
 A little time for purification. 
 I was rejoiced here to find 
 Heh-wul-vopuey, the Running Wind; 
 My maid, my sister, captive friend. 
 We embrace again before the end. 
 
 Along the river bank we walked, 
 
 And talked, and talked, oh, how we talked! 
 
 Twas doubtful which was greatest talker. 
 
 She told me she was Mrs. Walker; 
 
 That a young and good American 
 
 Had come among the tribe to train 
 
 The young idea how to shoot, 
 
 And had won her hand, and heart to boot. 
 
 She was happy as the day was long, 
 
 And always thought the world was young. 
 
Apache-Land. 125 
 
 The agent here, old Ammie White, 
 Gave us a comfortable night. 
 He spread our beds with Pi ma quilts, 
 And walked about like one on stilts. 
 His long legs working like a lever 
 (In youth he d had the spindle fever). 
 A man of cultivated mind, 
 He lived a recluse from mankind, 
 Contented here in this Utopia 
 To spend life with a Maricopa. 
 
 Two men lived here about the yards 
 Well worth in passing some regards. 
 One wore a continental hat, 
 Somewhat the worse for wear at that, 
 A bullet-hole shot through the crown 
 Received in battle of Yorktown; 
 The other, a suit of buckskin clothes, 
 Red hair, and long, red, shining nose; 
 And both so cross-eyed, was the pother, 
 They never once saw one another. 
 
 The fathers would not Sabbath pass 
 Without celebrating Pima mass. 
 The Indians gathered all around, 
 With gaping wonder, on the ground, 
 And heard that God lived in the sky, 
 And fed good Indians pumpkin pie; 
 But bad ones sent to another place, 
 Where water s said to be rather scarce; 
 Exciting thus their hopes and fears 
 For the first time in three hundred years. 
 
126 Apache-Land. 
 
 Having finished this, the train passed on 
 
 Along the road towards Tucson. 
 
 Leaving the stream at Sacaton 
 
 (Named from a grass of Arizone), 
 
 We camped a night at old Picach 
 
 A peak for which you ll scarce find match; 
 
 Next rested at the point of rocks 
 
 Where Tucson keeps her herds and flocks; 
 
 And next day, near the time of noon, 
 
 We reached the plaza of old Tucson. 
 
 Kind friends soon come round to greet; 
 Some old we miss, some new we meet 
 (For Time must always have his scope); 
 The world s a vast kaleidoscope. 
 The flag again is here unfurled; 
 They think this the center of the world; 
 For London neither know nor care 
 Four thousand here, four millions there; 
 Know nothing of stocks and " contangos;" 
 They play and sing and hold fandangos. 
 
 The Tucson people were quite elate, 
 
 They d swapped the capital for a delegate; 
 
 All for this exalted honor itch, 
 
 And would swap the devil for a witch; 
 
 The governor has this condition, 
 
 He signs the delegate s commission, 
 
 And for the 1101191 and the pelf, 
 
 He always signs it for himself. 
 
 The Washington folks here might learn 
 
 Advantage of the count to turn. 
 
Apache-Land. 127 
 
 I m not versed in affairs of state, 
 
 And politics I really hate; 
 
 But woman s instinct oft discerns 
 
 What man s more matchless reason spurns. 
 
 The best built coach that rides the plains, 
 
 Is n t safe if a drunkard holds the reins; 
 
 The strongest ship may go to wreck 
 
 With a land-lubber on the quarter-deck; 
 
 If neither happen, tis not odd; 
 
 But due to providence of God. 
 
 New men had come upon the scene 
 Not much better than the old, I ween. 
 They had a lean and hungry look; 
 In ravenous haste their :: v!&uals took 
 Down slim intestinal ca&pM 
 With gustatory pleasure dismal; 
 Talked nasally about tnV flag, 
 And carried one in their carpet-bag; 
 Reckoned as how an acre of land 
 Was quite enough for any man. 
 
 Pile up the debt who the d 1 cares, 
 
 We ll leave this blessing to our heirs. 
 "The desert lands" must be surveyed, 
 
 And party-men three prices paid. 
 
 The Indian business pays us well, 
 
 The Quakers all may go to h 1. 
 
 The outsiders can t make a fuss, 
 
 The newspapers all belong to us; 
 
 Anything to save the nation, 
 "The old flag and an appropriation." 
 
128 Apache-Land. 
 
 Our Lord-ly treasurer must have funds, 
 For finance low at the capital runs; 
 And what would Washington lobby be 
 Without some money to spend? He! he! 
 For every office has its price, 
 And the salaries don t half suffice; 
 So collect the duties on import, 
 We must keep up a friend at court. 
 The President has got the cranks, 
 And will no more submit to pranks. 
 
 We bought this land from Santa Ana 
 
 When he sold out under the hammer. 
 
 The old, one-legged Peter Funk! 
 
 Ten milliojis must have made him drunk. 
 
 The treaty made with old Gadsden 
 
 Was all very well, as things went then. 
 
 For old titles now we ve no regards 
 
 We ve become a nation of communards; 
 
 We ll confiscate these old estates, 
 
 And then make tracks for Eastern States. 
 
 The bold frontiersman too was gone 
 
 (At least not seen about Tucson), 
 
 Who erst, with pistol on his hip, 
 
 With rifle true, and spur and whip, 
 
 Was ready for an Apache ride, 
 
 To do his best, whate er betide. 
 
 Now, blear-eyed drunkards with their boons 
 
 Crowd low-down gambling-house saloons, 
 
 And hospitality s wide-spread gates 
 
 Are closed gainst strangers from the States. 
 
Apache- Land. 129 
 
 The agent left at Arivac, 
 
 Soon as the owner turned his back, 
 
 Commenced to steal and confiscate, 
 
 And wreck and rob the whole estate; 
 
 Employed some dirty peon hands 
 
 To take it up as "desert lands;" 
 
 And with the treasury at his back 
 
 Would be the Lord of Arivac. 
 
 The name of this despicable fraud 
 
 Would nearly rhyme with DOCTOR LORD. 
 
 A few days rest in old Tucson, 
 Then three leagues thence we journeyed on 
 To place in mem ry always dear; 
 The Mission Church of San Xavier, 
 Where Indians long their vigils kept 
 (The church was clean and neatly swept). 
 For the Jesuits told them years ago, 
 Sure as the water would continue to flow, 
 The sun to shine, the grass to grow, 
 They d come again to the Papago. 
 
 And now we ve surely lived to see 
 
 Fulfillment of this prophecy; 
 
 And more: The time s not very far 
 
 By treaty, purchase, or by war, 
 
 By means which nothing can forego 
 
 We ll repossess our Mexico. 
 
 No earthly power can thwart the skill 
 
 Of an army moved by a single will. 
 
 And Mexico shall be our home, 
 
 Whene er the order comes from Rome. 
 
130 Apache-Land. 
 
 We left the fathers here to chaunt, 
 To teach the Indians how to plant, 
 By honest labor to serve H. I. M., 
 And at eve to sing the vesper hymn; 
 Whilst we, too, render our account 
 By teaching on Saint Joseph s Mount. 
 And I in spirits desperate 
 Begin my own novitiate: 
 On condition, which Rome s law allows, 
 In future to withdraw my vows. 
 
 My chief was gone, and none knew where. 
 
 Suffice for me, he was not here. 
 
 Some said he d wandered to Japan; 
 
 Others, the city of the Khan, 
 
 Or away beyond the Chinese wall, 
 
 On Scythian plains to build a kraal, 
 
 Mid Tartar nomads living there 
 
 As their descendants live out here, 
 
 In ancient home of the Apache, 
 
 Where Russians now hold Fort Kiach ta; 
 
 Or, fanned by India s spicy breeze, 
 
 To seek an island in the seas. 
 
 But I know best his tastes and wants, 
 
 The kind of scene his vision haunts: 
 
 He ll seek the island of Ceylon, 
 
 And spend a little time upon 
 
 The lore and creed of Buddhist monks, 
 
 Neath banyan trees time-honored trunks; 
 
 Then cross the narrow Indian Sea, 
 
 From British port Trincomalee. 
 
Apache- Land. 131 
 
 Then up fair India s coral strands 
 
 To where the Ganges spreads her sands; 
 
 In India s marble palaces, 
 
 To drink from Hindoo chalices; 
 
 To climb the hundred marble stairs 
 
 From Ganges banks to old Benares, 
 
 Great city of the Hindoo mind, 
 
 Seat of the learned and refined; 
 
 Where pundits reason of the soul; 
 
 Below the healing waters roll. 
 
 Cawnpore, Lucknow, and high Delhi, 
 Where now the British banners fly, 
 At topmost top of Mogul towers, 
 In proud disdain of Moslem powers; 
 Where sixteen cities on the plain 
 Have risen, flourished, and fallen again; 
 Where Kootab tower and minaret 
 Stands tallest tower erected yet; 
 Where wrote England s poet of beauty and bliss: 
 If there s an elysium on earth, it is this, it is this." 
 
 The Mogul s city, Agra, seek 
 And linger there at least a week, 
 By wonder architectural 
 Eclipsing all; the Taj Mahal. 
 Tribute of love by India s Khan, 
 The Mogul Emperor Shah Jchan, 
 In honor of wife best loved of all 
 The beauteous Tartar, Noor-Mahal. 
 The Saracen here sought to prove 
 In showers of gems his lofty love. 
 
132 Apache- Land. 
 
 It may be some bright crystal star 
 
 Descended from the realms afar, 
 
 To give of home conception dim, 
 
 Of cherubim and seraphim; 
 
 Or, perhaps, the genii of the seas 
 
 Have wafted here, mankind to please, 
 
 A palace fashioned in the deep, 
 
 From gems which ocean s treasuries keep, 
 
 Festooned with coral, heap on heap, 
 
 In which the mermaids sing and sleep. 
 
 The marble, too, here speaks to man, 
 Inlaid in each verse of Koran; 
 In precious stones each Indian flower 
 Is molded in sepulchral bower; 
 So lifelike they the tomb illume, 
 You fancy you can smell perfume; 
 And look above in dome, on wing 
 To hear the very angels sing 
 A poem here in marble wove 
 Earth s noblest monument of love ! 
 
 The Himalayas highest peak, 
 In adventure wild I m sure he ll seek, 
 The natural British-Indian wall, 
 Overlooking Thibet and Nepaul; 
 Where Ganges, fed by lasting snows, 
 Its sources finds and southward flows; 
 The west and south all British land, 
 The north and east all Turkestan, 
 In clouds where Asian eagles whirl, 
 O er Ararat survey the world. 
 
Apache- Land. 133 
 
 He often read to me Tom Moore 
 In secluded, happy days of yore. 
 Following 1 this, in mem ry dear, 
 He ll visit valley of Cashmere. 
 Where mountains fifteen thousand feet 
 Rise, top o er top, the skies to meet; 
 And I fear on Jhelung s happy waters 
 He ll sport with Cashmere s lovely daughters. 
 To love and beauty men incline 
 I am the first, I ll not repine. 
 
 The Hindoo Rush he ll push across, 
 And rest among the Persian floss, 
 Where maidens fairer than Cashmere, 
 Would make an anchorite forswear. 
 But he has holier, higher aims, 
 And will seek the mystic Persian flames 
 Which burn there since the world begun, 
 Mid ancient worshipers of the sun; 
 From Ispahan to India s shore, 
 God s greatest emblem they adore. 
 
 Then up the great Euphrates banks, 
 Where Moslem mezzuin prays and chants 
 Above the ruined cities old 
 Oh! how old ! buried in the mold 
 Of ages ere the Christian world 
 From Bethlehem the flag unfurled, 
 Which Magian priests went there to seek 
 On birth of Christ, in obedience meek, 
 Thank Herod, who then held sway, 
 It did not take an eastern way.* 
 
 *Herod drove the Magian priests^ out of Judea; else they would probably 
 have carried the Christian religion eastward. 
 
134 Apache-Land. 
 
 The Holy Land ! the Holy Land ! 
 Like Arizona, land of sand ! 
 Where prophet sage and paraclete 
 The face of eternal God can greet; 
 Where atmosphere, without a leaven, 
 Leaves naught betwixt the earth and heaven. 
 Where soul absorbs th ethereal spark, 
 And leaves the outer world in dark. 
 Her sands have drunken Christe s blood, 
 To save the world beyond the flood. 
 
 On pyramid by Nilus bank, 
 Where Egypt s lotus leaves grow dank, 
 The river winding through Soudan 
 Forms nature s desert caravan; 
 Comes whence Herodotus too soon 
 Placed source in Mountains of the Moon; 
 Whence Livingstone and Stanley meet, 
 And strangers, yet like brothers greet. 
 The one takes rest up in the sky, 
 The other solves the mystery. 
 
 O er Europe s lands no more we ll roam, 
 
 Globe-trotters make them summer home. 
 
 Oh, will my chief not ever come ? 
 
 My bankers wrote he d passed through Rome, 
 
 And called to get a small advance 
 
 From money in the Bank of France. 
 
 I fear he s caught in some foulards 
 
 Which flaunts upon the boulevards, 
 
 Societe damsels dressed so nice 
 
 Upon the wages of their vice. 
 
Apache-Land. 135 
 
 Some men from London after came, 
 With power to enter in his name 
 The Santa Rita mining claims. 
 (I purposely omit their names, 
 For some of them are " unco quid," 
 And would not steal if understood.) 
 But agents do for filthy gains 
 Re-enter claims in their own names. 
 I must confess, I have my fears 
 Of " eminent mining engineers." 
 
 They brought along some magazines, 
 Of introduction forming means, 
 With tales of frontier life and fight 
 No other man on earth could write. 
 I knew the old sarcastic style, 
 The lightly veiled sardonic smile; 
 The scenes descriptive like a picture, 
 The ethics of the "Parsee Lecture;" 
 But still my heart full often wonders 
 Why he so long should stay in Londres. 
 
 They said he loved the English law, 
 Which can keep thieves somewhat in awe. 
 In English home had liked to nestle, 
 Where each man s Chouse is as his castle; 
 And thought the English right to fight 
 For the old motto, " Dieu et mon droit;" 
 Is quite at ease in English homes, 
 And welcome guest at feast he comes; 
 But worse than all, eternal Hades! 
 I fear he loves the English ladies. 
 
136 Apache- Land. 
 
 At last the news reached old Tucson 
 That he had come to Washington 
 To spend the winter with old friends; 
 To watch the count on which all depends; 
 To join the dinner, ball, and rout, 
 Which in season rages thereabout. 
 The spring brought me the joyful tidings . 
 That he had finished all his ridings 
 Was home again, in land of sands, 
 As Government Register of Lands. 
 
 The capital again on wheels 
 
 Has left the southern broad grain-fields, 
 
 To rest in Prescott mong the pines, 
 
 And live upon the yield of mines; 
 
 The Governor there to practice law, 
 
 And bail his clients with men of straw, 
 
 Unless the President interdict; 
 
 To pardon give his own convict; 
 
 To colonize the land with blacks, 
 
 Be delegate and then make tracks. 
 
 From Florence City to San Xavier, 
 Three different styles the buildings wear; 
 Three different epochs, different races, 
 Have left their marks in these old places: 
 The Mission Church, in art and grace, 
 Stands high above the rest in place; 
 The style is from the Saracen, 
 The dome a type of the Unseen; 
 Half Christian church, half Moslem mosque, 
 With ornaments in Arabesque. 
 

Apache- L and. 137 
 
 The Casa Grande stands alone, 
 
 One league from road from old Tucson, 
 
 Sole monument in desert place 
 
 Of lost, extinct, and perished race 
 
 Who here some thousand years ago 
 
 Had hate and love and joy and woe, 
 
 And cultivated lands around, 
 
 And built a city -now a mound. 
 
 No other nation neath the sun 
 
 Would let this ruin, to ruin run. 
 
 They say a thousand years ago 
 
 The Gila s waters ceased to flow; 
 
 The Great Spirit, wroth, withheld the rain, 
 
 And Indians no more gathered grain. 
 
 The queen had garnered the little corn, 
 
 And eked it out as a child was born 
 
 Till at last of humans under the sun 
 
 She was the only living one, 
 
 And reposed herself beneath a tree, 
 
 To wake up in eternity; 
 
 That God, in pity, sent the rain, 
 
 The human race to yet maintain 
 
 A drop from heaven fell on her navel, 
 
 The womb of nature to unravel, 
 
 And virgin queen, without deception, 
 
 Accepted the divine conception. 
 
 In course of time a son was born, 
 
 And Indians again danced round their corn; 
 
 The queen undying honor won 
 
 Grandmother of Montezuma s son. 
 
138 Apache-Land. 
 
 Fair Florence, wreathed in Gila s green, 
 
 A city yet to be, I ween. 
 
 Green cottonwoods adorn the banks, 
 
 Mesquite for food and fuel ranks; 
 
 And nowhere neath Italia s sun 
 
 Can climate equal such a one. 
 
 The territorial cord spinal 
 
 Spreads here in many a branch canal, 
 
 To irrigate the fields of grain, 
 
 And make good crops come without rain. 
 
 The water, trained in living rills, 
 The sidewalk s pine-built channel fills, 
 Vivifying the umbrageous trees 
 Neath which they sit, and take their ease; 
 For here, e en more than in Tucson, 
 It is always, "always afternoon." 
 The lotus leaf the soft wind kisses, 
 And ladies here would charm Ulysses. 
 They spend their time in dance and song, 
 And seem happy as the day is long. 
 
 The Gila s silvery waters flow 
 
 Through the town as classic old Arno 
 
 Flows through fair Italians Firenze, 
 
 Enough to give a poet frenzy. 
 
 The glittering floods in fancy seem 
 
 A silver thread in fringe of green. 
 
 The churches yet are rather few, 
 
 The ethics of the country new; 
 
 If not devout, they re cousin-german 
 
 A murderer preached the funeral sermon. 
 
Apache-Land. 139 
 
 The Final range ten leagues to north 
 Is where the silver ores come forth. 
 Here, well preserved in womb of Nature, 
 In mountain summits wild serrature, 
 Mysterious Providence has kept 
 His richest treasures in the depth 
 Of Apache-land, for chosen vessels, 
 Who in prayer with great Jehovah wrestle; 
 For pious, good, God-fearing men 
 Who drink a little now and then. 
 
 In truth, this mountain range it seems 
 With richest minerals really teems, 
 And silver ores of richest ley 
 Are hauled away from day to day, 
 To reduction works in other lands. 
 Four dollars a day are paid to hands. 
 This treasury, in years to come, 
 Wrll ma^e Florence a great emporium. 
 The Italian has the Apennines, 
 But they contain no silver mines. 
 
 I rested here from my fatigue, 
 And spent a day igi&i- his colleague; 
 A brusquely military r^n, 
 In point of years abouFlhe span; 
 A wife intent on household cares, 
 Somewhat his junior in years. 
 Two little girls born in Florence; 
 One Flora nged, the other Florence. 
 I asked him why so n-eaFthe same? 
 He answered, To prevent nickname. 
 
1 40 Apache-Land. 
 
 About a league northwest of town, 
 
 A round butte rises from the ground ; 
 
 Alone it stands upon the plain, 
 
 Detached from ev ry mountain chain ; 
 
 In altitude three hundred feet, 
 
 The morning sun s first beams to greet. 
 
 Its evening s shadows fall apace 
 
 In eastern alcove, which forms place 
 
 For building a secluded home 
 
 Where one may wait life s coming gloam. 
 
 On eastern front an Apache cave, 
 In solid rock sepulchral nave, 
 Forms tomb to face the rising sun, 
 For place of rest when life is done; 
 On top a temple built of stone, 
 For worship of the GREAT UNKNOWN ; 
 Resembling those on Persian hills, 
 Which Zoroaster s follower builds; 
 And sacred fire burns constantly, 
 As type of immortality. 
 
 On high a lofty pine is raised, 
 And on its top a flag is placed; 
 Not nailed to mast, as heroes do; 
 Nor lashed with ropes, as sailor s clew; 
 But always to the breeze it flings, 
 Revolving around on iron rings; 
 Red sun in midst, blue border round, 
 A stout white canvas forms the ground. 
 For fifty miles around you view 
 The colors true, "red, white, and blue." 
 
Apache- Land. 1 4 1 
 
 We cross the river at the spot 
 
 Where long ago it was our lot 
 
 To be rescued from our willow boat 
 
 By Pimas planting thereabout. 
 
 Now, lo! a city on the plains, 
 
 Where smiling peace and plenty reigns, 
 
 Named for the fabled bird that dies 
 
 That another from its death may rise; 1 
 
 Immortal emblem, long, long float 
 
 O er PHCENIX, where Pimas saved our boat ! 
 
 My story now draws near the end. 
 
 The few remaining words attend: 
 
 We offer here ourselves as guides, 
 
 To go with you, whate er betides; 
 
 We know the river s winding way, 
 
 The cataract s unceasing play; 
 
 The canon s deep and narrow gorge, 
 
 Where whirlpools dangerous roar and surge, 
 
 The rocks on which your boat may split, 
 
 The river, every bit of it. 
 
 And more, if more I need to urge, 
 A woman s heart beats neath this serge 
 (Which courtesy and chivalry 
 Respect, as heaven s livery), 
 For one who s gone aboard the boat, 
 These many years the world afloat; 
 Whose guide and comfort I would be 
 Over life s remaining troubled sea, 
 Till anchored safe at last with me 
 On the shores of vast eternity. 
 
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