The Middlebury Register

THE BEAUTIFUL MESTIZO:
OR THE MAID OF MONTEREY.
It was the sunset hour. The snow-capped summits of the distant sierra glittered in the sun's last rays, and the spires and turrets of the city of Monterey reflected his fading beams. The city looked the abode of peace and quietness. Alas! how soon were those quiet streets to resound with the tread of armed men and all the horrid sounds of mortal conflict -
Go with me a few steps from the Plaza, down a noble street. We pause before a modest house, built in the style peculiar to Mexican towns Let us enter. In the principal room of the house was a beautiful girl, reclining on a couch, and looking with an expression of perfect trustfulness into the face of a noble looking man.
The man was Dr. Cunard : the lady the lovely Senorita Leon, the pride of Monterey, the loveliest of all the maidens of the town The Doctor seemed to be giving some directions or advice to the lady, whose pale cheek betrayed that she was recovering from a recent illness. "I assure you my dear young lady," said he, that you need give yourself no further uneasiness in regard to this illness. It has been severe, it is true, and the skill of your Spanish physician was entirely at fault : but I know the symptoms of the good effects of medicine. The Manochan of the Azteca is truly wonderful Your pulse is regular : your breathing full and
that would stir the hearts of youth; in fact you're cured,and ere a week is passed, you will be, as usual, the most beautiful frequenter of the grand Plaza; you will have no further need of my services, and I must take leave."
"But, Doctor," said the lady, "you do not surely intend to leave me thus! You know that the columns of the terrible army of your countrymen, under General Taylor, are even now encamped before our devoted city. Can you leave me, whose life you have saved by your wonderful Manochan, helpless, and at the mercy of those terrible men ; men who have scattered the chivalry of Mexico before them, and now press on to consummate their success by overwhelming this devoted place? Do not, oh, I entreat you, do not leave me thus ! Stay for awhile, at least, and with my dying breath will I bless you as the saviour of my life, and perchance my honor.
In the excitement of the moment the Senora had thrown herself on her knees before the Doctor and with clasped hands, and eyes raised to his, awaited his reply. Indeed. from the expression of those jet black orbs of hers, one would have suspected that a dawning passion for the Doctor had as much to do with her passionate supplication as the fear of the terrible 'Americans," as she called the gallant army of old "Rough and Ready."
Raising the lady and placing her gently on the couch, the Doctor begged her not to agitate herself with unnecessary fears; assuring her that the Americans did not make war upon women, and telling her that he would not leave the town as yet. Then giving her a package of the Medicine of the Aztecs, prepared for use, he told her to keep it always, for fear of a recurrence of her disease.
Our gallant little army was already encamped before the town, and the next morning the Doctor was awakened by the roar of cannon and the rattle of musketry, as our troops pressed on to the capture of the place. For three days the conflict raged on every side; the Mexicans defending themselves with desperation; and as fort after fort succumbed before the assaults of our troops, taking position behind the parapets of the roofs, and making desperate efforts to stop the advance through the streets of the town.
All was in vain. The starry flag of our country, borne on by willing hands.- Floated in triumph above each position in succession ; until at length, in the grand Plaza itself, its well known stars were seen ; its heavy folds but half expanded by the evening air, proclaimed that Monterey had fallen.
It was after the contest had thus ended, that the Doctor, who had throughout the dreadful scene, been staying with the Senora, to protect her from the many dangers inseparable from such a conflict was on the point of leaving the house we have already described. He stood at the gate leading into the little courtyard before the house with Senora by his side.
A person dressed in the costume common to the Mexicans, with a slouched hat which nearly concealed his features, was passing ; when suddenly he turned and rushed upon the Doctor, at the same time making a most savage blow at him with a long knife which he had concealed under his serape. So quick was the movement, that the Doctor had no time to defend himself, and must have fallen a victim to the cowardly attack, had not the Senora suddenly thrown herself before him, and received in her own lovely bosom the knife aimed at the Doctor's life. Drawing a revolver from his belt, the Doctor shot the cowardly wretch ere he could repeat his blow; and so true was the aim, that the Mexican fell dead upon the spot. Turning immediately, the Doctor raised the form of the lovely girl in his arms and bore her to the house, and lying her gently down, endeavored to stop the flow of blood. It was in vain. The knife had done its work too surely.- Opening her eyes, she looked up at him with a smile of unmistakable tenderness, and faintly pressing his hand, she said: "Tis useless, Doctor ; it was my death blow; you can not know how welcome when received for you. I give my life to spare your own; and now when death is so sure and speedy, surely it can not be wrong to tell you that I love you so much that I am happier far to die for you than to live and have you leave me. Cease, I pray you, those tears distress me more than the assassin's stab. I have a few short moments yet to live ; tell me that Sometimes you will think kindly of the poor Mexican girl who gave that life which you, by your wonderful medicine had saved, and freely gave it to preserve your own."
" May I want consolation in my dying hour if I can forget the noblest of women, said the Doctor; and raising her gently on his breast, he looked upon her sweet face, growing paler every moment-and the tears he shed were no disgrace to manhood.
Again she spoke almost in a whisper: " It is thus that I have dreamed of being held in your arms, pressed to your breast. Oh, how hard it is to die when only now I know how much I love. In the long days and nights of my illness I have so often thought perchance, that we together might see that happy valley where you found this wondrous medicine ; together might behold that remnant of a noble race, but it can not be: die. but tis for you--I am content "
The last word passed from her lip- like the sigh of a sleeping infant, and all was still. "In his arms the Doctor held but lifeless clay. The pure and gentle spirit had taken flight and winged its way to Heaven :and the strong man was left alone in his agony. Let us draw a curtain over the scene!
A few days after, the Doctor left the city but, many times since do his thoughts wander back to the girl, whose beauty