Terms, Five Dollars a Year. 
Ten Cents a Copy. 
NEW YORK, THURSDAY, JULY 2, 1874 
Volume 2, Number 21. 
17 Chatham St. (CityHall Sqr.) 
For Forest and Stream. 
THE OLD FARM-HOUSE DOOR. 
BY WAYNE HOVEY. 
-TTTHENmemory turns to the days of our childhood, 
VV gAnd fond,recollections encompass the view; 
When sunshine and shadow each carpet the wildwood, 
And fields are all covered with diamonds of dew, 
’Tis easy for ns in such hours of reflection 
To think of the country and home’s ample store; 
To wander far back, and in sweet retrospection, 
Again stand in front of the old farm house door. 
c’Twas there that the violets in sweetest confusion, 
Nestled close to the path leading up from the spring, 
And roses and lilacs in loving profusion, 
Bowed ’neath the dip of the swallow’s steel wing. 
’Twas there that the sunshine seemed brightest and dearest, 
And life was a bliss that should never end more; 
While the friends that we loved were all dear, yet the dearest 
Were those that we met round the old farm house door. 
In the twilight of evening, in the first blush of morning, 
When the lowing herd wandered far down in the vale. 
And the shrill cock proclaimed his matmal warning, 
Awakening from slumber the echoing quail; 
No greater delight could be found than in viewing 
The teeming expanse of nature’s great store, 
And breathing the fresh air, so sweet and renewing, 
As we stood looking out at the old°farm-house door. 
In the evening of life, when our days shall be closing, 
And the still, solemn night shall be fast drawing on, 
When our eyes growing dim—and from labor reposing, 
Onr arm shall be nerveless, our cheeks pale aud wan— 
Our prayer is that then, when our Heavenly Father, 
Shall make known His will from the bright shining shore, 
It may be that us with the good He will gather, 
And call us to rest from the old farm-house door. 
For Forest and stream . 
ffitom the H otottmc to the ilia 
Life on the New Mexico Frontier—Snow- 
Capped Mountains—Burning Deserts—Dried 
up Rivers —- Rushing Torrents — Mexican 
Greasers and Apaches. 
A S a new sensation to tourists and travelers, we sug¬ 
gest that they put down for their “next” Colorado or 
New Mexico, and if the trip fails to be remunerative, 
either in novelty of scenery or incident, it will, in our opin¬ 
ion, be their fault. 
Owing to circumstances over which we had no control, 
we recently very reluctantly took our departure from the 
National Capital, and turning thence for the far south-west, 
stopping at Newport barracks to take charge of a detach¬ 
ment of recruits, we resumed our journey, and were soon 
out of sight of the Queen City and on our way to the 
“Future^reat City of the West,” which point we reached 
that night and left in a little while after by special train. 
The third day found us far beyond Kansas City, out upon 
the wild prairie; every evidence of civilization, excepting 
the railroad and telegraph, had disappeared, and instead 
an tinbroken stretch of barren plain met the eye, an occa¬ 
sional band of antelope or herd of buffalo the only animal 
life seen. 
A-t night our progress was more cautious, necessitated by 
the fires having in many places destroyed the ties. These 
hres, caused most generally by cinders from the engines, 
tguiting the sun and wind-dried grass, driven by the un¬ 
ceasing winds, are fanned into a roaring flame, and spread 
w ith fearful speed. When seen at night, extending as far 
as the eye can reach to the right and left one unbroken line 
°f rushing devastation, it is calculated I o make an impression 
oot to be forgotten. The fifth day, at dawn, brought us to 
Reaver, surrounded by snow-capped mountains,with an at¬ 
mosphere of a temperature between summer and winter, 
clear, cool, exhilarating. We were transferred to the Nar- 
row Gauge Railroad, and proceeded down grade, winding 
through mountain passes and narrow defiles en route to 
Fueblo. We had an excellent dinner at Colorado Springs, 
which is at the base of the eastern slope of Pike’s Peak. 
At 6 P. M. we were in Pueblo, present terminus of the rail¬ 
road, 1,950 miles from Washington. 
Of the journey so far we can only say that it was smooth 
and pleasant, a mere excursion, with the addition of a finer 
climate and a greater extent of scenery than can be enjoyed 
in any other direction during the winter, Florida not ex¬ 
cepted. The change from the chilling fogs and wintry 
winds of the north west to the balmy atmosphere of the 
south west, is one of the luxuries of a winter’s trip. Few 
of those who dwell near the shore of the Atlantic have any 
conception of the delightful climate enjoyed here. Bright 
sunshine sparkles over the prairie sea and nestles among 
the declivities of the mountains; the earth rejoices in the 
generous flood of light poured down upon it from morning 
till night; the birds of the air and the beasts of the field 
revel in the groves and pastures that stretch back from the 
rock-ribbed and snow-capped peaks that pierce the ether 
blue. Nothing in life or nature seems wanting; all is rich 
and glowing and full of beauty and promise. The moun¬ 
tains, barren as they appear, are strangely fantastic in form 
and wonderfully rich in coloring. The full swell of the 
wind, unobstructed for hundreds of miles, falls like the 
majestic peal of old ocean upon embattlements of solid 
rock. 
Beyond, beautiful islands of trees loom up over the bright 
sparkling prairie, barren of foliage, yet picturesque in the 
tints of the southern horizon, a luxury of lights and shad¬ 
ows, a balmy atmosphere, broad, infinite distances of land¬ 
scape. One day was required to complete our outfit at 
Pueblo. At starting the command stood as follows:— 
Twenty-one mules, three wagons, three dogs, one hundred 
and thirteen rank and file, one officer. To all contemplat¬ 
ing a visit to New Mexico, our advice is to bring with them 
every thing usually required on a trip through a country 
far removed from civilization. They will learn after a 
short expedition that this is an extensive country, prolific 
in reptiles and the precious metals, exhilarating atmosphere 
and magnificent scenery, but either or all of which will be 
found indifferent as means of subsistence. After, our de¬ 
parture from Pueblo we traveled slowly for the first few 
days, that things might get settled into shape. Along the 
road we saw quantities of geese and quail, and generally 
succeeded, with our Remington breechloader, in getting a 
good supply during the day, and at night spread our 
blankets around the camp fire and lay down to pleasant 
slumber. 
At Chucharas Creek, about one hundred miles south of 
Pueblo, we very unexpectedly came across the Chief of the 
Utes, who had returned from Washington, where we had 
last seen him. He had returned to his people with a fund 
of wonderful adventures. His account of the antelope, 
{Giraffe,) he had seen in the east, that could stand on one 
side of a fence and eat grass from the other side, was rich; 
the wonderful feats he had seen performed at the circus 
astonished his listeners beyond measure. The fifth day ©ut 
from Pueblo, we passed Trinnadad and camped on Rattom 
Pass, the dividing line between Colorado and New Mexico. 
On the tenth day we came in sight of Fort Union, and it 
was with emotions of national pride that we gazed upon 
the glorious flag of our Union as it swelled out to the even¬ 
ing breeze from the flag-staff that rose above the plain. In 
half an hour we reached the fort, where we were received 
with great kindness and hospitality. We had marched two 
hundred and twelve miles in ten days, and we were not 
slow to enjoy the luxury of a bath, a change of raiment, 
and a Thanksgiving dinner. We remained ten days at 
Fort Union, at the expiration of which time, all being- 
ready, damages to our transportation repaired, stores laid 
in. arms and ammunition obtained for the entire command, 
letters written home, we bade good-by to our hospitable 
comrades at the fort and resumed our journey. 
The second day out we reached Las Vegas, the last vil¬ 
lage on our road. Here was the jumping off place. Be¬ 
yond this, for two hundred miles, we were at the mercy of 
the sands and storms and burning suns of New Mexico. 
Before us. as far as the eye could reach, stretched vast 
deserts dotted with mesquit, sage, grease-wood and cactus, 
and distant ranges of mountains ragged and barren, the 
head waters of the Rio Peacos. This wild stream of the 
desert, along the banks of which we traveled, flows in a 
south easterly direction for over seven hundred miles, 
through south-western Texas, across the Llano Estacado 
and empties into the Rio Grande. A glaring sand bottom, 
through which, in shallow veins, the bitter alkaline water 
coursed, leaving here and there patches of quicksand; rest¬ 
ing places for water fowl. The smallest of the species of 
sandpiper were here in numbers. Desert mesas, sand bot¬ 
toms, and arroyas formed the characteristic features of our 
journey down the Rio Peacos for two hundred miles. The 
redeeming feature of this lonely and seemingly barren 
country was the abundance of wild game peculiar to the 
southwest. Bands of antelope were in sight daily; an oc¬ 
casional deer was seen. We started up coyotes from every 
arroya and canon. If we did not feast upon milk and 
honey we certainly lived on very good substitutes, which 
were seasoned with that camp luxury—good fat pork, 
spiced with excitement, and relished by daily exercise. 
One hundred and seventy miles from Fort Union, and 
thirty miles south from old Fort Sumner (abandoned), we 
enjoyed the excitement of a buffalo chase, and succeeded 
in killing two bulls after a long run over arroyas, sand hills 
and canons; it was a mad, wild race for miles, but fortu¬ 
nately they took our direction, and as we had partially 
committed ourselves to a. hunt, should any buffalo appear, 
no restraint was placed upon the command when a small 
herd of seven crossed our road. Judging from the observa¬ 
tions overheard in camp that night, “the recruits didn’t 
want any more .buffalo hunting !” 
It was with a sense of relief that we approached the Rio 
Hondo and left behind us the turbid, sickening, milky 
alkaline waters of the Rio Peacos; nor will we soon forget 
our experience of its quicksands and current, its barren 
mountains and stretches of sand deserts, where the blaze 
of the sun, the unobstructed sweeps of the winds across 
the distances immense, and all the associations of this wil¬ 
derness impressed us most painfully. It was with more than 
pleasure that we departed from a region of robbery and 
assassination. The land of the Apache and Coyote, where 
the bones of the dead are seldom left to tell the tale; where 
every canon is a natural fortification, and every chapperal 
and clump of thorny cactus a hiding place for an enemy. 
Farewell, and may it be forever,to your burning sands and 
savage race, where the silence of utter desolation reigns 
supreme! Upon reaching the Rio Hondo, a beautiful 
mountain stream full of trout, and the winter home of 
great numbers of aquatic fowl,our course was changed from 
southeast to due west, and for one hundred miles we fol¬ 
lowed up this peculiar brook. Owing to the great fall from 
its source in the Sierra Blanca to where it mingles its trans¬ 
lucent waters with those of the muddy Peacos, it has cut 
its channel far down below the surface of the narrow 
valley of the same name, which it follows. Seen at a short 
distance it would not be supposed that the ragged line of 
small brush visible marked the course of a rushing mountain 
stream ,but upon inspection you find this brush to be tops 
of trees, and below, forty feet in some places, between nar¬ 
row and abrupt banks flows the limped waters flecked with 
sunshine and deep shadows; a delightful change from the 
inhospitable desert left behind. The Sierra Blanca and 
El. Capitan, seen from the point of junction of the Rio 
Hondo with the Rio Peacos, appear isolated peaks rising 
from the plain, and present prominent and picturesque 
black landmarks for one hundred miles; the Capitan, 
as midnight; the Sierra Blanca white with snow. 
Our journey up the Rio Hondo was as pleasant as could 
have been desired. The weather was, as usual, quite de- 
liglitful—soft, balmy sunshine during the day; clear and 
frosty at night. It was a perfect luxury to breathe such 
pure soft air as we enjoyed in the middle of December, 
when our friends in the northeast were freezing amid the 
ice and 6now of a northern winter. 
As we advanced up the valley of the Rio Hondo, each 
