Their delighted eyes have rested on the lovely Santa Cruz mountains,
the glorious meadows of Santa Clara, and the great sapphire bay
of Monterey. The rich Pajaro and Salinas valleys lie waiting at
hand. Thinking also of the wondrous wealth of the Sacramento and
San Joaquin, of the tropical glories of Los Angeles, Philip Hardin
cries: "Gentlemen, this splendid land is for us! We must rule this
new State! We must be true to the South!"
To be in weal and woe "true to the South" is close to the heart of
every cavalier in Philip Hardin's train.
The train arrives at Monterey, swelled by others faithful to that
Southern Cross yet to glitter on dark fields of future battle.
The treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo closed a bloody Conflict on February
2, 1848. It is the preamble to a long struggle. It is destined in
the West to be bloodless until the fatal guns trained on Fort Sumter
bellow out their challenge to the great Civil War. It is only then
the mighty pine will swing with a crash against the palm.
Hardin knows that recruits, true of blood, are hastening to the
new land of El Dorado. As he leads his dauntless followers into
Monterey his soul is high. He sees the beloved South sweeping in
victory westward as proudly as her legions rolled over the fields
of Monterey and Buena Vista.
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