An officer of the Tenth Infantry, and
as we drove into the town, its appearance of placid content, its
ancient buildings, its great trees, its clear air, its friendly,
indolent-looking inhabitants, gave me a delightful feeling of
home. A mysterious charm seemed to possess me. It was the spell
which that old town loves to throw over the strangers who venture
off the beaten track to come within her walls.
Lying only eighteen miles away, over a small branch road from
Llamy (a station on the Atchison and Topeka Railroad), few people
take the trouble to stop over to visit it. "Dead old town," says
the commercial traveller, "nothing doing there."
And it is true.
But no spot that I have visited in this country has thrown around
me the spell of enchantment which held me fast in that sleepy and
historic town.
The Governor's Palace, the old plaza, the ancient churches, the
antiquated customs, the Sisters' Hospital, the old Convent of Our
Lady of Loretto, the soft music of the Spanish tongue, I loved
them all.
There were no factories; no noise was ever heard; the sun shone
peacefully on, through winter and summer alike. There was no
cold, no heat, but a delightful year-around climate. Why the
place was not crowded with health seekers, was a puzzle to me.
