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Volume 3 (1858-1859) (592 pages)
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Page: of 592
ELBANA, THE MEXICAN BEAUTY. 515
“De laws a marcy,” they delightedly
cried out, “neber seed a Spanish Queen
afore; she is white as you is, Massa
John.”
‘Yes, Rose, and a great deal whiter.
You must all be very kind to her; and
Ann, you must be her waiting maid.”
“Lor, Massa John, can she talk so I
ean tell what she says?”
“Oh, yes. Now prepare for her a
nice room.”
We will now leave Elbana and “ Massa
John” with the old lady, while we take
a look at another party.
Alfred Bruner, after parting with Miramontes and Mr. Bullard, in San Francisco, took passage on the steamer for New
York, having his brother’s remains with
him. Arriving at that city, his father
and mother were plunged in the deepest
of grief; tears, bitter and sad, were shed
for the fate of the unfortunate son and
brother.
The funeral at length was over, but
everything appeared changed; instead of
the happy joke and cheerful laugh, sobs
and tears had taken their place. Alfred
had not the heart to leave his bereaved
parents until their grief had somewhat
subsided. Weeks wore away, and still
they mourned. His father’s sorrowing
grief made sad hayoc upon his effeminate constitution, and a visit to Saratoga
Springs was recommended, but the water did not effect a cure. Now they concluded to try the efficacy of traveling
through the western States, all of which
interested the old gentleman very much.
A year had elapsed since they left the
city of New York. Alfred remembered,
continually, his promise to Elbana with
painful anxiety. He had written many
letters, but it was doubtful whether she
ever received them. He once mentioned
to his father his desire of returning to
California, and it shocked the old gentleman’s nerves to such a degree that Alfred
dared not press the subject, while his
father’s health was in such a precarious
condition, although the year had expired
that was to see him at Montes Valley.
Still, he could not leave. Time kept
stealing away, month by month, until
another year had almost fled. No answer
to his letters was ever received. One day
he was sitting im front of a favorite hotel,
after the arrival of a California steamer,
engaged in reading a San Francisco paper, when, to his surprise, the following
dialogue took place: ‘Did you come on
the last steamer, Hogan?’ ‘ Yes, and a
rough old time we have had of it.’ ‘Why,
what was the matter?” ‘A perfect hurricane was blowing, ever since we left
the Isthmus; and, with my lame leg,
walking was out of the question, so that
I sat enough to batch forty broods of
goslings.’ ‘ Your lame leg, Hogan, how
comes that?? ‘Qh, when I was with
Captain McAdams we had a skirmish
with a robber, a Mexican named Miramontes, (the deceitful imp), and if it had
not been for the warning of a Mr. Bullard, we should all have been killed.’
The paper dropped from Alfred’s hand,
as he looked up and addressed the speaker, ‘ Will you be so kind, sir, as to relate
minutely all the circumstances of your
adventure, in the skirmish you have just
mentioned ?”
“ Yes, certainly, but let’s have a cocktail, boys, before I begin, as I hate a dry
throat.”
Alfred ordered the liquors. Hogan,
after draining the glass, related all the
particulars of the fight at Montes Valley,
with a full account of the death of Miramontes, and their return; also of Mr.
Bullard’s death, and of Elbana’s accompanying McAdams; of his being in love
with the Spanish beauty ; with the reasons for the four hunters leaving McAdams, to engage with Dave Simmons, and
concluded by saying: “Back we went to
Montes Valley; we found the house al-