Away over the dark, wild waves of the rolling Atlantic--away beyond the summer islands of the Western Ind--lies a lovely land. Its surface-aspect carries the hue of the emerald; its sky is sapphire; its sun is a globe of gold. It is the land of Anahuac! The tourist turns his face to the Orient--the poet sings the gone glories of Greece--the painter elaborates the hackneyed pictures of Apennine and Alp--the novelist turns the skulking thief of Italy into a picturesque bandit, or, Don Quixote-like, betaking himself into the misty middle age, entertains the romantic miss and milliner's apprentice with stories of raven steeds, of plumed and impossible heroes. All-- painter, poet, tourist, and n…
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