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It
is
a
picture
of
pure
frontier
life
--
which
perhaps
only
the
pencil
of
the
younger
Vernet
could
truthfully
portray
--
half
military
,
half
civilian
--
half
savage
,
half
civilised
--
mottled
with
figures
of
men
whose
complexions
,
costumes
,
and
callings
,
proclaim
them
appertaining
to
the
extremes
of
both
,
and
every
possible
gradation
between
.
Even
the
mise-en-scène
--
the
Fort
itself
--
is
of
this
miscegenous
character
.
That
star-spangled
banner
waves
not
over
bastions
and
battlements
;
it
flings
no
shadow
over
casemate
or
covered
way
,
fosse
,
scarpment
,
or
glacis
--
scarce
anything
that
appertains
to
a
fortress
.
A
rude
stockade
,
constructed
out
of
trunks
of
algarobia
,
enclosing
shed-stabling
for
two
hundred
horses
;
outside
this
a
half-score
of
buildings
of
the
plainest
architectural
style
--
some
of
them
mere
huts
of
"
wattle
and
daub
"
--
jacalés
--
the
biggest
a
barrack
;
behind
it
the
hospital
,
the
stores
of
the
commissary
,
and
quartermaster
;
on
one
side
the
guardhouse
;
and
on
the
other
,
more
pretentiously
placed
,
the
messroom
and
officers
'
quarters
;
all
plain
in
their
appearance
--
plastered
and
whitewashed
with
the
lime
plentifully
found
on
the
Leona
--
all
neat
and
clean
,
as
becomes
a
cantonment
of
troops
wearing
the
uniform
of
a
great
civilised
nation
.
Such
is
Fort
Inge
.
At
a
short
distance
off
another
group
of
houses
meets
the
eye
--
nearly
,
if
not
quite
,
as
imposing
as
the
cluster
above
described
bearing
the
name
of
"
The
Fort
.
"
They
are
just
outside
the
shadow
of
the
flag
,
though
under
its
protection
--
for
to
it
are
they
indebted
for
their
origin
and
existence
.
They
are
the
germ
of
the
village
that
universally
springs
up
in
the
proximity
of
an
American
military
post
--
in
all
probability
,
and
at
no
very
remote
period
,
to
become
a
town
--
perhaps
a
great
city
.
At
present
their
occupants
are
a
sutler
,
whose
store
contains
"
knick-knacks
"
not
classed
among
commissariat
rations
;
an
hotel-keeper
whose
bar-room
,
with
white
sanded
floor
and
shelves
sparkling
with
prismatic
glass
,
tempts
the
idler
to
step
in
;
a
brace
of
gamblers
whose
rival
tables
of
faro
and
monté
extract
from
the
pockets
of
the
soldiers
most
part
of
their
pay
;
a
score
of
dark-eyed
señoritas
of
questionable
reputation
;
a
like
number
of
hunters
,
teamsters
,
mustangers
,
and
nondescripts
--
such
as
constitute
in
all
countries
the
hangers-on
of
a
military
cantonment
,
or
the
followers
of
a
camp
.
The
houses
in
the
occupancy
of
this
motley
corporation
have
been
"
sited
"
with
some
design
.
Perhaps
they
are
the
property
of
a
single
speculator
.
They
stand
around
a
"
square
,
"
where
,
instead
of
lamp-posts
or
statues
,
may
be
seen
the
decaying
trunk
of
a
cypress
,
or
the
bushy
form
of
a
hackberry
rising
out
of
a
tapis
of
trodden
grass
.
The
Leona
--
at
this
point
a
mere
rivulet
--
glides
past
in
the
rear
both
of
fort
and
village
.
To
the
front
extends
a
level
plain
,
green
as
verdure
can
make
it
--
in
the
distance
darkened
by
a
bordering
of
woods
,
in
which
post-oaks
and
pecâns
,
live
oaks
and
elms
,
struggle
for
existence
with
spinous
plants
of
cactus
and
anona
;
with
scores
of
creepers
,
climbers
,
and
parasites
almost
unknown
to
the
botanist
.
To
the
south
and
east
along
the
banks
of
the
stream
,
you
see
scattered
houses
:
the
homesteads
of
plantations
;
some
of
them
rude
and
of
recent
construction
,
with
a
few
of
more
pretentious
style
,
and
evidently
of
older
origin
.
One
of
these
last
particularly
attracts
the
attention
:
a
structure
of
superior
size
--
with
flat
roof
,
surmounted
by
a
crenelled
parapet
--
whose
white
walls
show
conspicuously
against
the
green
background
of
forest
with
which
it
is
half
encircled
.
It
is
the
hacienda
of
Casa
del
Corvo
.
Turning
your
eye
northward
,
you
behold
a
curious
isolated
eminence
--
a
gigantic
cone
of
rocks
--
rising
several
hundred
feet
above
the
level
of
the
plain
;
and
beyond
,
in
dim
distance
,
a
waving
horizontal
line
indicating
the
outlines
of
the
Guadalupe
mountains
--
the
outstanding
spurs
of
that
elevated
and
almost
untrodden
plateau
,
the
Llano
Estacado
.
Look
aloft
!
You
behold
a
sky
,
half
sapphire
,
half
turquoise
;
by
day
,
showing
no
other
spot
than
the
orb
of
its
golden
god
;
by
night
,
studded
with
stars
that
appear
clipped
from
clear
steel
,
and
a
moon
whose
well-defined
disc
outshines
the
effulgence
of
silver
.
Look
below
--
at
that
hour
when
moon
and
stars
have
disappeared
,
and
the
land-wind
arrives
from
Matagorda
Bay
,
laden
with
the
fragrance
of
flowers
;
when
it
strikes
the
starry
flag
,
unfolding
it
to
the
eye
of
the
morn
--
then
look
below
,
and
behold
the
picture
that
should
have
been
painted
by
the
pencil
of
Vernet
--
too
varied
and
vivid
,
too
plentiful
in
shapes
,
costumes
,
and
colouring
,
to
be
sketched
by
the
pen
.
