Mexico which never recurs to my mind without leavin' my eyes some dim.
I don't claim to be no expert on pathos an' I'm far from regyardin'
myse'f as a sharp on tears, but thar's folks who sort o' makes sadness
a speshulty, women folks lots of 'em, who allows that what I'm about to
recount possesses pecooliar elements of sorrow.

"'Thar's a young captain--he ain't more'n a boy--who's brought a troop
of lancers along with us. This boy Captain hails from some'ers up
'round Waco, an' thar ain't a handsomer or braver in all Pres'dent
Davis's army. This Captain--whose name is Edson,--an' me, bein' we-all
is both young, works ourse'fs into a clost friendship for each other; I
feels about him like he's my brother. Nacherally, over a camp fire an'
mebby a stray bottle an' a piece of roast antelope, him an' me confides
about ourse'fs. This Captain Edson back in Waco has got a old widow
mother who's some rich for Texas, an' also thar's a sweetheart he aims
to marry when the war's over an' done. I reckons him an' me talks of
that mother an' sweetheart of his a hundred times.

"'It falls out that where we fords the Pecos we runs up on a Mexican
Plaza--the "Plaza Chico" they-all calls it--an' we camps thar by the
river a week, givin' our cattle a chance to roll an' recooperate up on
the grass an' water.

"'Then we goes p'intin' out for the settin' sun ag'in, allowin' to
strike the Rio Grande some'ers below Albuquerque. Captain Edson, while
we're pesterin' 'round at the Plaza Chico, attaches to his retinoo a
Mexican boy; an' as our boogles begins to sing an' we lines out for
that west'ard push, this yere boy rides along with Edson an' the
lancers.