In San Antonio, the New has almost obliterated the Old, and
little remains except its pretty green river, its picturesque
bridges, and the historic Alamo, to mark it from other cities in
the Southwest.
In the late afternoon, everybody drove to the Plaza, where all
the country people were selling their garden-stuff and poultry in
the open square. This was charming, and we all bought live fowl
and drove home again. One heard cackling and gobbling from the
smart traps and victorias, and it seemed to be a survival of an
old custom. The whole town took a drive after that, and supped at
eight o'clock.
The San Antonio people believe there is no climate to equal
theirs, and talk much about the cool breezes from the Gulf of
Mexico, which is some miles away. But I found seven months of the
twelve too hot for comfort, and I could never detect much
coolness in the summer breezes.
After I settled down to the sedateness which is supposed to
belong to the Staff, I began to enjoy life very much. There is
compensation for every loss, and I found, with the new friends,
many of whom had lived their lives, and had known sorrow and joy,
a true companionship which enriched my life, and filled the days
with gladness.
My son had completed the High School course in San Antonio, under
an able German master, and had been sent East to prepare for the
Stevens Institute of Technology, and in the following spring I
took my daughter Katharine and fled from the dreaded heat of a
Texas summer. Never can I forget the child's grief on parting
from her Texas pony. She extorted a solemn promise from her
father, who was obliged to stay in Texas, that he would never
part with him.
My brother, then unmarried, and my sister Harriet were living
together in New Rochelle and to them we went. Harry's vacation
enabled him to be with us, and we had a delightful summer. It was
good to be on the shores of Long Island Sound.
In the autumn, not knowing what next was in store for us, I
placed my dear little Katharine at the Convent of the Sacred
Heart at Kenwood on the Hudson, that she might be able to
complete her education in one place, and in the care of those
lovely, gentle and refined ladies of that order.
Shortly after that, Captain Jack was ordered to David's Island,
New York Harbor (now called Fort Slocum), where we spent four
happy and uninterrupted years, in the most constant intercourse
with my dear brother and sister.
Old friends were coming and going all the time, and it seemed so
good to us to be living in a place where this was possible.
Captain Summerhayes was constructing officer and had a busy life,
with all the various sorts of building to be done there.
David's Island was then an Artillery Post, and there were several
batteries stationed there. (Afterwards it became a recruiting
station.) The garrison was often entirely changed. At one time,
General Henry C. Cook was in command. He and his charming
Southern wife added so much to the enjoyment of the post. Then
came our old friends the Van Vliets of Santa Fe days; and Dr. and
Mrs. Valery Havard, who are so well known in the army, and then
Colonel Carl Woodruff and Mrs. Woodruff, whom we all liked so
much, and dear Doctor Julian Cabell, and others, who completed a
delightful garrison.
And we had a series of informal dances and invited the
distinguished members of the artist colony from New Rochelle, and
it was at one of these dances that I first met Frederic
Remington. I had long admired his work and had been most anxious
to meet him. As a rule, Frederic did not attend any social
functions, but he loved the army, and as Mrs. Remington was fond
of social life, they were both present at our first little
invitation dance.
About the middle of the evening I noticed Mr. Remington sitting
alone and I crossed the hall and sat down beside him. I then told
him how much I had loved his work and how it appealed to all army
folks, and how glad I was to know him, and I suppose I said many
other things such as literary men and painters and players often
have to hear from enthusiastic women like myself. However,
Frederic seemed pleased, and made some modest little speech and
then fell into an abstracted silence, gazing on the great flag
which was stretched across the hall at one end, and from behind
which some few soldiers who were going to assist in serving the
supper were passing in and out. I fell in with his mood
immediately, as he was a person with whom formality was
impossible, and said: "What are you looking at, Mr. Remington?"
He replied, turning upon me his round boyish face and his blue
eyes gladdening, "I was just thinking I wished I was behind in
there where those blue jackets are - you know - behind that flag
with the soldiers - those are the men I like to study, you know, I
don't like all this fuss and feathers of society" - then, blushing
at his lack of gallantry, he added: "It's all right, of course,
pretty women and all that, and I suppose you think I'm dreadful
and - do you want me to dance with you - that's the proper thing
here isn't it?" Whereupon, he seized me in his great arms and
whirled me around at a pace I never dreamed of, and, once around,
he said, "that's enough of this thing, isn't it, let's sit down,
I believe I'm going to like you, though I'm not much for women."
I said "You must come over here often;" and he replied, "You've
got a lot of jolly good fellows over here and I will do it."
Afterwards, the Remingtons and ourselves became the closest
friends.
