After remaining two weeks at Houston I took the Sunset Route to San Antonia, and stopped at the Central House on the main plaza.  This is the oldest town in Texas, and is called “The Stone City,” its antique buildings and narrow winding streets giving it a quaint, time-worn air.

San Antonia River rises from a low spring, four miles distant from the city, and gracefully winds through its streets, and is here and there spanned by beautiful rustic bridges.

The “City Gardens” are one block distant from the main plaza, and are located upon an island of great natural beauty, romantically approached by a floating bridge.  The air is cool and refreshing from the river breeze, fair flowers, bloom and sweet voiced birds rival the musical instruments which lead the merry feet of the dancers.

A mile from the city are the San Pedro Springs, a lovely park often acres in area, where springs flow out into crystal purling streams, forming islands, lakes, and ponds white and fragrant with their lily bloom, while shining green lizards and other reptiles peep curiously out from the rocks and glide away into the stream.

Just across the main plaza stands the old Spanish cathedral, with its musical chime of bells sending out on the perfumed air melodies sweet as vesper songs.

We went to the old Alamo, felt the antique cannon used by the Mexicans, were shown the room in which Bowie died and the spot where fell the brave Colonel Crockett, who, with his handful of men, so gallantly held the citadel, at which time he was taken alive, together with five other prisoners, and ordered by Santa Anna to be killed.

Just before the fatal sword-thrust, which ended a life so fraught with daring and danger, he sprang like a tiger at the throat of Santa Anna, his face wearing even in death this expression of fiendish, scowling hatred.

San Antonia being the great market for the frontier, is a place of great business activity.  While there I was struck with amazement to see a dirty, ragged man mounted upon a jaded, dilapidated horse, a very Sancho Panza and Rezinante, smilingly asking alms of the passer-by.

I had often heard of, but never before saw a veritable “beggar on horseback.”

CHAPTER XXXVII.

    “Light, warmth, and sprouting greenness,
    And o’er all
    Blue, stainless, steel-bright ether
    Raining down
    Tranquility upon the deep hushed town
    The freshening meadow and the hillside brown.”

We went from San Antonio to Austin, the capital of Texas, where I had a delightful interview with Governor Hubbard, who, although much engrossed with the cares of State, seemed for the time to lay them all aside, and gave me his undivided attention.  Certainly if “all the world’s a stage, and men and women merely players,” this versatile gentleman appeared as well in the role of courtier as in that of the statesman.