XXIII
The wedding of President Huerta’s son—Departure from the Embassy—Huerta’s royal accommodations—The journey down to Vera Cruz—The white flag of truce—We reach the American lines.
April 24th. 9 A.M. (In the Train, After Our Sudden Departure Last Night.)
We have just passed the famous Metlac Bridge. Far down these enchanting curves I see the military train which precedes us, with troops to test the line, and a flatcar for our three automobiles, to get us through the Federal lines at Tejería. We passed slowly over the Metlac Bridge. There, in the middle, was flying the great, white flag of peace! We could proceed. It made our hearts beat fast. The splendors of this land under this cloudless sky are indescribable; marvelous odors come in at the windows, and great, blazing stars of red and vermilion decorate every bush. The broad banana leaves take every possible glint, and the bayonet palms are swords of light. Everything is gorgeous—everything a splendid blaze.
At Orizaba orderly crowds cried “Viva Mexico!” “Mueran los Gringos!” and bared their heads, as the troop-cars attached to our train rolled out. I cannot keep my eyes from the beauties of this natural world through which we are journeying, conducted so royally by command of the “Grand Old Indian.” Nature is so generous here that she neither needs nor asks the co-operation of man in her giving. Alas for him!
At six o’clock this morning they awakened us at Esperanza, the highest point, to get out for a good breakfast offered by Corona. The troops accompanying us were also fed, which does not always happen. Rowan jogged the general’s mind by offering them a breakfast from us, but he said, “Oh no; we will provide for them.” He evidently had orders from “on high” to spare no trouble or expense.