February 19th
We went this morning to the big military revue at the Condesa, one of the most beautiful race-tracks in the world. I thought of Potsdam’s strong men under dull skies. Now I am in this radiant paradise, watching more highly colored troops, who make a really fine show, and who perhaps are soon to fight with “the Colossus of the North.” Certainly in another year many of them will have been laid low by brothers’ hands. The President was very pleased with the 29th, the crack regiment that helped him to power a year ago. He addressed a few words to them, and his hands trembled as he decorated their flag, pinning the cross at the top of the flag-staff, and attaching a long red streamer instead of the rosette that generally goes with this decoration. They made a fine showing, and the rurales, under command of Rincon Gaillardo, on a beautiful horse, and in all the splendor of a yellow and silver-trimmed charro costume, were a picturesque and unforgetable sight. The rurales wear great peaked hats, yellow-gray costumes made with the tight vaquero trousers, short embroidered coats, and long, floating red-silk neckties—such a spot at which to aim! I suppose there were six or seven thousand troops in all. Everything was very spick and span—men, horses, and equipment. It was a testimony to Huerta’s military qualities that in the face of his manifold enemies he could put up such an exhibition. I sat by Corona, governor of the Federal District, and watched the glittering défilé and listened to the stirring martial music. The Mexicans have probably the best brass in the world—le beau côté de la guerre. But what horrors all that glitter covers! Twice, when Huerta’s emotion was too much for him, he disappeared for a copita, which was to be had in a convenient back inclosure.