FIRST IMPRESSIONS 



near the goal, there came into view fenced 

 fields, groves of cottonwood- trees, homes 

 palpably inhabited by 'white folks,' irrigating 

 ditches yes, the vaunted attractions of 

 the famous Mesilla Valley were, after all, 

 materializing. 



As we alighted at the station and climbed 

 into the omnibus, the prospect continued to 

 please at a distance. It was winter, and 

 the world was arrayed in shades of brown 

 and drab ; but over all was the radiant 

 American sky, and in the centre of the little 

 town rose the twin domes of the Catholic 

 church, painted, by the order of kind priests, 

 a soft, harmonious red ; and there was mis- 

 tletoe on the shuddering cottonwoods, its 

 berries pearl-white against the background 

 of sapphire. And beyond towered the 

 awful steeps of the Organ Mountains, their 

 jagged spires and pinnacles casting shadows, 

 sharp, yet aerial, in the rarefied atmosphere 

 of 3,800 feet above sea-level. They were 

 a dream, miles on miles removed, yet there 

 were moments in which we were ready to 

 declare that fifteen minutes' walk would bring 

 us to their knees. 



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