Maxwell's house was a veritable palace compared with the usual style and
architecture of that time and country. It was built on the old Southern
style, large and roomy. It was the hospitable mansion of the traveling
public, and I have never known or heard of Mr. Maxwell ever charging a
cent for a meal's victuals or a night's lodging under his roof. The
grant ran from the line of Colorado on the Raton mountains sixty miles
south and took in the little town of Maxwell on the Cimarron river. The
place is now known as Springer, New Mexico.

In the yard at the Maxwell Palace, as we will call his house, was an old
brass cannon, about which we may speak later on. He had a grist mill, a
sutler's store, wagon repair shop and a trading post for the Indians.

Besides his wife, a Mexican woman, Mr. Maxwell had a nice little girl
eight years old, whom he sent to St. Louis with some friends to go to
school and to learn how to become a "high-bred" lady. In the fall of
1864 on one of my trips to Santa Fe I met Miss Maxwell, then a young
lady about sixteen years old, and took her to her father's house in New
Mexico. As we were crossing the Long Route I asked her if she spoke the
Mexican language. She told me that she had forgotten every word of it.
Everything at the Maxwell ranch had on its holiday finery in
anticipation of the arrival of this young lady and Mrs. Maxwell came to
meet the coach that bore her beloved child. It was one of the most
touching incidents that ever came up in my life, before or since. The
mother reached the coach first and had the girl in her arms, crying and
laughing over her, talking the Mexican language to her, but the girl
never understood one word her mother was saying and the mother was at an
equal loss to know what the daughter spoke to her. At last Mr. Maxwell
greeted his daughter who had grown so much that he could hardly realize