The Southwestern Historical Quarterly, Volume 66, July 1962 - April, 1963 Page: 555
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Notes and Documents
she was just entering womanhood. Her figure was faultless, and even the chisel
of Praxiteles himself never modeled ankles of such pure and classic elegance.
As the long and straggling line of prisoners passed the spot upon which this
lovely form was standing, sore and worn down by long marches, and want of
food and sleep, her rare beauty drew the eyes of all towards her, and exclama-
tions of wonder were upon every lip. She understood not our language, and in
the artless simplicity of her nature, knew not that her singular loveliness, com-
bined with her display of charms, her unstudied yet graceful attitude and scanty
dress, were the theme of almost universal admiration.
She beckoned to a youth among the prisoners, a German lad but little older than
herself, and presented him the pumpkin with infinite delicacy and grace; and as
she did it, the exclamation pobrecito (poor fellow) was heard gently falling
from her lips in tones of softest pity. The fairest flowers are oftenest found in
obscurity. I assert that the prettiest girl I had ever saw was selling woolen stock-
ings, at twenty-five cents a pair, at Holmes' Hole, Massachusetts-her twin sister
in beauty was standing in her bare feet upon a mud wall in Albuquerque, New
Mexico, with a pumpkin on her head!
I lingered to take a last look at the beautiful girl, and when I turned from the
spot I could not but regret that the lot of one so kind-hearted and so fair had
been cast in such a place. There are faces seen in our journey through life sur-
passingly beautiful, faces that leave a deep and lasting impression on the behold-
ers, and hers was one of them. Among the crowds of beauty her image will stand
out in bold relief, and not one of those who saw her on the day we passed through
Albuquerque will ever forget her.
The writer of this was the happy recipient of that pumpkin, pre-
sented by that kind and beautiful girl. But I was so wearied, broken
down and hungry that I did not notice her beauty, and the whole
circumstances would have escaped my memory, did I not recollect
that I carried that pumpkin till I got tired, threw it on the ground
to burst it, then with my hand scraped out the seeds and fibers, and
eat it ravenously. Now, I do not flatter myself that because that
beauty presented me with the pumpkin, that I was the handsomest
youth of our crowd, no--but I was perhaps a picture of abject misery
and suffering, so callous to suffering that death had no terror to me
nor could I have shed a tear for my own or companions sufferings.
If I dreamed at all, it was of begging for food, or a covering to
keep my shivering limbs warm, my hips being nearly bare of flesh,
hurt me after a nights rest on the hard cold ground.
If that good, kind girl was alive today, as well as some other good,
kind women, I would be happy to repay them bountifully for past
kindness and sympathy, but alasl I would not know where to find
them. I am myself marching fast on to the grave, all my benefactors
may be dead, but they still live in my heart, and I pray God that He
may reward them for their charity.
After leaving Albuquerque, we passed through a succession of well
cultivated fields and a pretty valley. We reached early in the evening
a small ranche called Las Placers. Here soon after we stopped, a
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Texas State Historical Association. The Southwestern Historical Quarterly, Volume 66, July 1962 - April, 1963, periodical, 1963; Austin, Texas. (texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth101196/m1/595/: accessed August 21, 2017), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, texashistory.unt.edu; crediting Texas State Historical Association.