for Ae fiupding if a Co&gt.teij&$g:<>lotty''

- iLniBiRAisy •

Purchased from
Henry R. Wagner, Yale '84
1916

VAGABOND LIFE

MEXICO.

GABRIEL FERRY,
FOR SEVEN YEARS' RESIDENT IN THAT COUNTRY.

NEW YORK:
HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS,
FEANKLIN SQUARE.
1856.

E^

CONTENTS.

PERfCO, THE MEXICAN VAGABOND  5
FRAY SERAPIO, THE FRANCISCAN MONK  47
DON TADEO CRISTOBAL, THE THIEVES' LAWYER OF MEXICO.. 90
REMIGIO VASQUEZ  128
THE MINERS OF RAYAS  ITT
CAPTAIN DON BLAS AND THE SILVER CONVOY  217
THE JAROCHOS  277
THE PILOT VENTURA  314

VAGABOND LIFE IN MEXICO.

fkrico, the iflgeican i)agab0iti>.
CHAPTER I.
The Jamaica and Mount Parnassus.
Mexico is the most beautiful city ever built by the
Spaniards in the New World ; and even in Europe it
would take a high place for splendor and magnificence.
If you wish to behold the magnificent and varied pan
orama which Mexico presents, you have only to mount
at sunset one of the towers of the Cathedral. On
whatever side you turn your eye, you see before you
the serrated peaks of the Cordilleras, forming a gi
gantic azure belt of about sixty leagues in circumfer
ence. To the south, the two volcanoes which overtop
the other peaks of the sierra raise their majestic sum
mits, covered with eternal snow, which, in the even
ing sun, put on a pale purple hue flecked with delicate
ruby. The one, Popocatapetl (smoking mountain), is
a perfect cone, dazzling in the blue vault of heaven ;
the other, Iztaczihuatl (the white woman), has the ap
pearance of a nymph reclining, who lifts her icy shoul
ders to receive the last beams of the dying sun. At
the foot of the two volcanoes gleam two lakes, like
mirrors, which reflect the clouds in their waters, and
where the wild swan plays its merry gambols. To the
west risps nn immense pi]p. of building, the palace of

6 ARCHITECT URAL BEAUTY OF MEXICO.
Chapultepec, once the abode of the old viceroys of
New Spain. Round the mountain on which it is built
stretches, in a long, waving belt of verdure, a forest of
cedars more than a thousand years old. A fountain
bubbles forth at the top of the mountain ; its brawling
waters leap down into the valley, where they are re
ceived into an aqueduct, and thus conducted into a
large and populous city, to supply the-avants of its in
habitants. Villages, steeples, and cupolas rise on all
sides from the bottom of the valley. Dusty roads
cross and recross one another like gold stripes on a
green ground, or like runnels of water interbranching
through the country. A tree, peculiar to Peru, the
weeping willow of the sandy plains, bends its long,
interlaced branches, loaded with odoriferous leaves and
red berries, in the evening breeze, and a solitary palm-
tree rises here and there above clumps of olives with
their pale-green foliage.
But these are only the grand outlines of the picture.
Turn your eye upon the city, or, rather, look at your
feet. In the midst of the chess-board formed by the
terraces of houses, and from among the flowers with
which these are adorned, you will see rising, as from
an immense bouquet, spires, churches with domes of
yellow and blue tiling, houses with walls stained with
various colors, and balconies hung with a kind of
striped cotton, which give them a trim and jaunty ap
pearance. On one of the four sides of the Plaza Mayor
(great square) the Cathedral towers majestically aloft.
This magnificent edifice overtops the turrets of the
president's palace, a building devoid of all pretensions
to architectural beauty, and now falling to decay. It
is an immense pile, inclosing within its four walls the
public offices of the government, a prison, two bar-

LIFE IN MEXICO. 7
racks, a botanic garden, and the legislative chambers.
This palace occupies a whole side of the square. The
Ayuntamiento (Municipality) and the Postal de las
Jlores, an immense market, form the third side. The
Parian, a market similar to the preceding, completes
the fourth. Thus the legislative and executive power,
the board of works, commerce — all the departments of
the Mexican government, in short, are in one building,
and seem as if grouped together under the shadow of
the church. The people are there also; for the streets
of St. Domingo, of St. Francisco, of Tacuba, of Mon-
naie, of Monterilla, all arteries of the great city, pour
into the Plaza Mayor a flood of human beings, which
is always changing, and ever in motion, and you have
only to mix in this crowd for a few moments to get
acquainted with Mexican life in all its diversified pha
ses of vice and virtue, of splendor and misery.
When the hour of the Angelus approaches especial
ly, horsemen, foot-passengers, and carriages are packed
together in disorderly confusion, and gold, silk, and
rags, mingled here and there, give to the crowd a gro
tesque and startling appearance. The Indians are re
turning to their villages, the populace to the suburbs.
The ranchero makes his horse prance and curvet in
the midst of the passengers, who are in no hurry to
get out of his way ; the aquador (water-carrier), whose
day's work is over, crosses the square, bending under
the weight of his chochocol of porous earthenware ; the
officer is bending his steps to the coffee-houses or gam
bling-tables, where he intends to spend the evening;
the non-commissioned officer clears the way for him
self with a vine-tree-staff, which he carries in his hand
as a badge of his rank. The red petticoat of the
townswoman is in glaring contrast with the saya and

8 RELIGIOUS RITES IN MEXICO.
black mantilla of the fashionable lady, who holds her
fan over her face to shade it from the departing rays
of the sun. Monks of all colors flit through the crowd
in every direction. Here the jpadre, with his huge hat
a la Basile, elbows the Franciscan in his blue gown,
silken cord, girdle, and large white felt hat ; there
goes the Dominican in his lugubrious costume of black
and white, reminding one of Torquemada, the founder
of the Inquisition ; farther on, the brown drugget of
the Capuchin contrasts with the white flowing robes
of the Brother of Mercy. Incidents of different kinds
occur continually in this motley crowd, and serve to
keep one's attention alive. Sometimes, as the drum
in the barracks are beating a salute, the folding doors
of a sagrario* suddenly fly open, and there issues
forth a carriage splendidly gilt, the slow toll of the
bell is heard along with the harsh rattle of the drum,
and the whole crowd uncover, and kneel with bent
head to the holy sacrament which they are carrying
to a dying man. Woe betide the foreigner, though
bold and resolute, who, ignorant of the profound re
spect which the Mexican pays to his religious rites,
fails to bow the knee to the host as it passes ! Some
times a military detachment of six officers, escorted by
three soldiers and preceded by a dozen musicians, is
seen marching into the square in all the majesty of
military pomp ; it is to proclaim a bando (law or edict)
of the highest authority, for which all this display of
military music and brocaded uniforms is deemed nec
essary. Such at this time of the evening is the gen
eral appearance of the Plaza Mayor, that square where
the people of Mexico, the sovereign people (as their
flatterers call them), flutter in rags, ceaselessly en-
* Sagrario, the part in a church where the host is kept.

THE PLAZA MAYOR. 9
gaged in quest of a new master who can put down the
master of the night before, quite indifferent as to polit
ical principles, mistaking disorder for liberty, and nev
er suspecting that the continual assaults of anarchy
may bring down one day the worm-eaten structure of
their rotten republic, although it has not been in ex
istence more than twenty-five years.
Every evening, however, at the first peals of the
Angelus, all noise ceases, as if by enchantment, in the
Plaza Mayor. The crowd becomes hushed and silent.
When the last toll of the bell dies away, the din re
commences. The crowd disperses in every direction,
carriages rattle off, horsemen gallop away, foot-passen
gers hurry hither and thither, but not always nimbly
enough to escape the sword or lasso of the bold thieves
who murder or rob their hapless victims, and whose
audacity is such that, even in open day, and with
crowds looking on, they have been known to commit
their crimes.* At nightfall the square is deserted ; a
few promenaders scurry along in the moonlight; others
remain seated, or swing lazily upon the iron chains,
which, separated by granite pillars, run round the sa
grario. The day is past, the scenes of the night begin,
and the leperos become for a few hours masters of the
city. The lepero is a type, and that the strangest, of Mex
ican society. The attentive, observer, who has seen
Mexico stirring with the joyous excitement that pre
cedes the Oracion, and then abandoned to the ill-omen-

* A- journal, " Siglio XIX." of the 11th November, 1845, contains
in its columns a petition addressed to the Ayuntamiento upon the sub
ject of certain thieves, who, not content with the evening, had chosen
midday for the exercise of their calling. The petition and answer of
the municipal council are alike curious.
A 2

10 THE MEXICAN VAGABOND.
ing silence which the night brings on, can alone tell
what is singular and formidable in the character of this
Mexican lazzarone. At once brave and cowardly,
calm and violent, fanatic and incredulous, with just
such a belief in Grod as to have a wholesome terror for
the devil, a continual gambler, quarrelsome by nature,
with a sobriety only equaled by the intemperance to
which he sometimes delivers himself, the lepero can
accommodate himself to every turn of fortune, as his
humor or idleness inclines him. Porter, stone-mason,
teamster, street-pavior, hawker, the leperois everything
at different times. A thief sometimes by inclination,
he practices his favorite calling every where, in the
churches, at processions, and in theatres ; his life is
only one struggle with justice, which is not herself safe
from his larcenies. Lavish when he finds himself mas
ter of a little money, he is not the less resigned or
courageous when he has none. Has he gained in the
morning a sufficiency for the expenses of the day ? he
drops work immediately. Often his precarious re
sources fail him entirely. Tranquil then, and sub
missive, and careless about thieves, he wraps himself
in his torn cloak, and lies down at the corner of the
pavement or in a door-way. There, rattling his jarana
(a little mandolin), and looking with stoical serenity at
the pvlqueria (public-house), where he has no credit,
he listens distractedly to the hissing of some savory
stew which they are preparing for some more favored
being, tightens the belt round his stomach, and, after
breakfasting off a sunbeam, he sups off a cigar, and
sleeps quietly without thinking of the morrow.
I will confess my weakness : among this motley
crowd, idle and brawling as it was, my attention was
more engaged with the miserable tatterdemalions than

FRAY SERAPIO, THE FRANCISCAN MONK. 11
with the well-dressed foot-passengers, as the former
seemed to afford a truer index of Mexican society than
the latter. I never met, for instance, a lepero, in all
the picturesqueness of his tattered costume, without
having a strong desire to become better acquainted
with this Bohemian-like class, who reminded me fre
quently of the more uncommon heroes of Picaresque
romance. It appeared to me a curious study to com
pare this filthy and ragged denizen of the great towns
with the savage adventurers I had met in the woods
and savannas. When I first came to live in Mexico,
I sought, and succeeded in getting acquainted, through
the kindness of a Franciscan monk, a friend of mine,
with a thorough-bred lepero, called Perico the Zara-
gate.* Unhappily, our acquaintance had hardly com
menced, when, for very good reasons, I was resolved
to break it, for I only got the scantiest information from
him about his class, and the number of piastres I was
forced to pay him was so considerable as to induce me
to reflect strongly upon the absurdity of taking such
expensive lessons. I was resolved, then, to bring my
studies with him to a conclusion, when, one morning,
Fray Serapio, the worthy monk who had made me ac
quainted with Perico, entered my apartment.
"I came to ask you," said the Franciscan, " to go
with me to a bull-fight at the Necatitlan Square ; there
will also be a Jamaica and a Monte Parnaso, which
will be an additional inducement."
" What is a Jamaica and a Monte Parnaso V
" You will know that immediately. Let us set out ;
it is nearly eleven, and we shall be scarcely there in
time to get a good place."
I could never resist the attraction of a bull-fight,
* Zaragate, a rorjuc of the most dangerous kind .

12 THE SUBURBS OF MEXICO.
and I found an advantage in having the company of
Fray Serapio while traversing in security those sub
urbs which surround Mexico in a formidable belt.
The neighborhood of the Necatitlan Square is more
dreaded than any, and it is almost always dangerous
to appear there in a European garb; indeed, I never
passed through it alone without uneasiness. The cowl
of the monk would be a safeguard to me in my Euro
pean dress. I accepted his offer with pleasure, and
we set out. For the first time, I viewed with a tran
quil mind the narrow, dirty, and unpaved streets, the
blackened houses full of cracks running over the walls
in all directions, lurking-places of the thieves and rob
bers who ply their calling on the streets, and who
sometimes even break into houses in the city. Swarms
of one-eyed leperos, their faces cut and scarred with
the knife, were drinking, whistling, and shouting in the
taverns, clad in dirty cotton clothes, or enveloped in
their frazadas. * Their wives, dressed in tatters, stood
in the doorways, watching their naked children, who
were sporting in the mud, and laughing and shouting
merrily. In passing through these haunts of cut
throats, the terror of the police, the judge mutters a
prayer, the alcalde crosses himself, the corchete (bailiff)
and the regidor shuffle humbly along with downcast
eye but watchful look, and the honest man shudders,
but the monk stalks along with lofty brow and serene
face, and the creak of his sandals is more respected
there than the clink of the celador's sabre ; sometimes,
even, like tame tigers who recognize their master, the
bandits emerge from their lurking-places, and come
and kiss his hand.
* A blanket of commrn wool, differing in that respect only from the
serape.

V MEXICAN CIKCH'.x. 13
The Necatitlan Square presented an appearance at
once strange and novel. On one side, where the sun
darted his unpitying rays upon the palcos de sol;*
stood the people, with cloaks and rebozos hung over
their heads as a shade, clustered- in noisy, animated
groups on the steps of the circus, and keeping up a
lively concert of whistling and groaning. On the shady
side, the nodding plumes of the officers' hats, and the
variegated silk shawls of the ladies, presented to the
eye an appearance which contrasted strongly with the
wretchedness and misery of the rabble in the palcos
de sol. I had witnessed bull-fights a hundred times.
I had seen this dirty mass of people, wearied and ex
hausted in body, but with as keen a relish for slaugh
ter as ever, their tongues sticking to the roofs of their
mouths, and their throats dry and parched as the sand,
when the setting sun darted his long rays through the
ill-joined boards of the amphitheatre, and when the
scent of the blood lured the hungry vultures who were
sailing in the air above, but I never saw the arena so
transformed as it was at that time. Numerous wood
en erections filled the space ordinarily devoted to the
bull-fights ; these, covered with grass, flowers, and
sweet-smelling branches of trees, made the whole place
assume the appearance of a vast hall, growing, as it
were, out of the ground, and forming a series of shady
groves, with paths winding through them. Little
booths were dispersed here and there through the
groves, some intended for the preparation of delicate
articles of Mexican cookery, others for the sale of cool,
refreshing drinks. In the cookery booths you could
indulge in the luxury of nameless ragouts of pork, sea-
r-oned, with pimenta. In the puestosf glittered im-
* Those parts of the circus exposed to the sun. i Portable shops.

14 PERICQ, THE MEXICAN VAGABOND.
mense glasses filled with beverages of all the colors in
the rainbow, red, green, blue, and yellow. The mob
in the palcos de sol snuffed up greedily the nauseous
smell of the fat pork, while others, more lucky, seated
in this improvised elysium, under the shade of the
trees, discussed pates of the wild duck of the lakes.
" Look !" said the Franciscan, pointing with his -fin
ger to the throng seated at the tables in the ring;
"that's what we call a Jamaica.'1''
." And that ?" said I, showing him a tree five or six
yards high, fixed in the ground, with all its leaves, in
the middle of the arena, quite covered with handker
chiefs of every hue, which fluttered from the branches.
" That is a Monte Parnaso" said the Franciscan.
" Probably poets are to ascend it ?"
" No ; but leperos, and such like uneducated per
sons — which will be a great deal more diverting."
The monk had hardly given me this answer, which
but half enlightened me, when cries of toro, toro, from
the rabble in the palcos de sol became louder and more
overpowering ; the pastry cooks' booths and the pues-
tos were suddenly deserted ; the revelers were sudden
ly interrupted by the sudden rush of a band of leperos
from the highest boxes round the inclosure, who, slid
ing down by means of their cloaks, made a terrific on
slaught on the green booths inside. Among the crowd
who were yelling and kicking down the booths, and
strewing the whole ring with their remains, I recog
nized my old friend Perico. Indeed, without him the
fete would have been incomplete. The Monte Parna
so, with its cotton handkerchiefs, stood alone in the
midst of the wreck, and soon became the only object
to which the looks and aims of the rabble were direct
ed. All tried to be the first to ascend the tree, and

PERICO AND THE BULL. 15
get possession of such handkerchiefs as took their fan
cy ; but the struggles of the one impeded the efforts of
the other ; the tree still remained standing, and not a
single claimant had yet succeeded in even touching its
trunk. At the same moment the bugle sounded in the
box of the alcalde, the door of the toril was thrown
open, and a magnificent bull, the best that the neigh
boring haciendas could furnish, came thundering into
the arena. The spectators, who expected a more for
midable animal, were somewhat disappointed when
they saw an embolado* The aspiring laureates of
Monte Parnaso were nevertheless somewhat scared
and frightened. The bull, after standing with some
hesitation, bounded with a gallop toward the tree, which
was still standing. Some of the leperos ran away, and
the others took refuge, one after another, in the branch
es of Monte Parnaso. The bull, having come to the
foot of the tree, butted at it with repeated blows of his
horns ; it tottered ; and at the very moment Perico
was busily engaged in reaping an abundant harvest of
pocket-handkerchiefs, it fell, dragging with it the men
who were entangled in the branches. Roars of laugh
ter and enthusiastic cheering arose from the ten thou
sand spectators in the galleries and boxes at sight of
the unfortunate wretches, who, bruised and lamed, were
seeking to escape from each other's grasp, and from the
branches in which they were entangled. To add to the
confusion, the bull, seeking no doubt to separate the
black mass struggling on the ground, butted several
of the unfortunate leperos with his horns, and, to my
great sorrow, I saw Perico, launched ten feet into the
air, fall to the ground in such a state of insensibility
as to deprive me of all hope of completing my studies
of Mexican life under so skillful a master.
* A bull with a ball on each horn.

lfj PERICO VISITED BY THE MONK.
Perico had been scarcely carried out of the arena
when cries of "a priest! a priest!" were raised by a
hundred voices. Fray Serapio crouched in a corner of
his box, but he could not avoid the duty which the
people expected from him. He rose, gravely cloaking
his disappointment as much as he could from the eyes
of the people, and said to me, in a low tone,
"Follow me ; you will pass for a surgeon." •
"Are you joking?" said I.
" Not at all ; if the fellow is not quite dead, he will
have a surgeon and a priest of equal merit."
I followed the monk with a gravity at least equal to
his own, and while descending the stairs of the amphi'-.
theatre, the laughter and loud hurrahs of the populace
proved that the people in the shade, as well as the rab
ble in the sun, viewed the accident as, an every-day
occurrence. We were conducted into a little dark
room on the ground floor of a house, from which issued
several lobbies leading to different apartments. In a
corner of this room Perico was laid, having been pre
viously deprived of all his handkerchiefs ; then, partly
through respect for the Church and the faculty, so wor
thily represented by both of us, partly lest they should
lose the spectacle of the fight, the attendants withdrew
and left us alone. The lepero, his head leaning against
the wall, and giving no sign of life, was seated rather
than reclining; his motionless arms, and his pale,
corpse-like face, showed that, if life had not quite fled,
there was but a slender spark remaining. We looked
at each other, the Franciscan and I, quite at a loss
what to do in the circumstances.
" I think," said I to the monk, " that it would per
haps be best to give him absolution."
"Absolvo te," said Fray Serapio, touching roughly

PEHICO'S CONFESSION. 17
the lepero's foot. He appeared sensible to this mark
of interest, and muttered, half opening his eyes,
" I believe in God the Father, the Son, and the Holy
— Ah ! the rascals have taken all my handkerchiefs —
Senor Padre, I am a dead man.
" Not yet, my son," said the monk ; " but perhaps
there only remains for you sufficient time to confess
your sins ; and it would be best for you to profit by
it, that I may open to' you the folding doors of heaven.
I warn you that I am in a hurry."
" Is the bull-fight not over, then ?" said poor Perico,
naively. " I think," said he, passing his hands over
his body, "that I am not so ill as you imagine."
Then, seeing me, Perico shut his eyes, as if he were
going to faint, and added, in a very low voice,
" Indeed I am ill, very ill ; and if you please to
listen to my confession, I will soon finish it."
" Go on, then, my son."
The monk then kneeled down close to the sick man,
who, to speak the truth, bore no trace on his body of
a single wound. Taking off his large gray hat, Peri
co brought his lips near the ear of the monk, and I,
_not to interrupt the lepero, stepped aside. He began
thus :
"I accuse myself first, father, of the blackest in
gratitude to this cavalier, in that I took from him so
much money — and would have taken more if I could
— and I hope he will bear no ill feeling toward me on
that account, for at heart I sincerely loved him."
I bowed in token of forgiveness.
'^1 accuse myself also, father, of having stolen the
gold watch of Sayosa, the judge in the criminal court,
the last time I appeared before him."
" How was that, mv son ?"

18 PERICO'S CONFESSION.
" The Lord Sayosa was imprudent enough to put
his hand into his pocket for his watch, and to express
his regret and surprise that he had left both it and his
gold chain at home. I said to myself then, if I am not
executed for this, that will be a good stroke of busi
ness for me. Ignorant that any thing like this acci
dent would befall me, I gave a hint to a friend of mine
Avho was at that moment set at liberty. I ought to tell
you thgt my lord judge has a weakness for turkeys."
" I don't understand you, my son."
"All in good time, father. My confederate bought
a splendid turkey, and hastened to present it to the
wife of my Lord Sayosa, saying that her husband had
ordered him to give it her ; my lord judge entreated
her at the same time, added my friend, to deliver to
the bearer his gold watch and chain that he had for
gotten at home. It was thus the watch — "
" That's serious, my son."
"I did worse than that, father; the day after, I
stole from the judge's lady while her husband was at
court." "What, my son?"
" The turkey, father. You see one does not like to
lose any thing," muttered Perico, in a doleful tone.
The monk could scarcely restrain himself from laugh
ing outright at the confession of the lepero.
" And why," said Fray Serapio, in a shaking tone
of voice, " were you at the bar before my Lord Judge
Sayosa ?"
" A trifle, father. A citizen in the town (his name
needn't be mentioned) had engaged me to take venge
ance on a person who had offended him. The man was
pointed out to me whom I was to strike. He was a
young, handsome cavalier, easily recognizable by a

PERICO'S CONFESSION. 19
long narrow scar above his right eyebrow. I placed
myself in ambuscade at the door of a house which he
was accustomed to enter every night before orisons.
I saw him, in fact, enter the house pointed out to me.
Niglit came on. I waited. , Two hours passed. There
was not a single person in the street, which was silent
as the grave. The person I was waiting for had not
yet appeared. I was curious to see what kept him so
long. The apartment in which I thought he was was
on the ground floor. I crept slowly up to it, and look
ed through the bars of a window that had been left
open probably on account of the heat."
Perico, in continuing his confession, either from weak
ness or some other motive, seemed to do it unwilling
ly, as if he could not brook the ascendency which
Fray Serapio had over him. The lepero unveiled his
thoughts like one in a state of mesmeric sleep, who is
obliged to act according to the will of the manipulator.
I asked the monk by a look whether I should stay or
retire. His glance urged me to stay. J(
"Beneath a picture of all the saints," continued
Perico, " slept an old woman wrapped up to the eyes
in her rebozo. The handsome cavalier, whom I recog
nized, was seated on a sofa. Kneeling before him, her
head on his knees, was a young and beautiful woman,
her eyes fixed upon his, beaming with the most ardent
devotion. The young man was stripping the leaves
off a fulKblown rose that he had taken from the tor
toise-shell comb in the hair of the fair dame, whose head
was on his knees. I saw clearly now why the time
had seemed to him so short. Perhaps the feeling of
compassion which rose in my bosom will be placed to
my credit aloft, for I felt quite sorry at being forced to
bring this sweet romance to a rough conclusion."

20 PERICO'S CONFESSION.
" Did you kill him, then, you wretch ?" cried the
monk. " I sat down in the shade on the pavement, "with my
face to the door. I pitied the poor fellow, was quite
discouraged, and slept at my post. The creaking of
a door awoke me from my slumbers ; a man came out.
I said to myself then that my word of honor had been
given, and my feelings of compassion must be crushed.
I arose. A second after, I was on the traces of the
unknown. The sound of a piano came stealing from
the window, which was now closed. ' Poor girl ! ' said
I, 'your lover has seen his last hour, and you are
playing ! ' I struck — the man fell ! "
Perico stopped and sighed.
" Had grief dimmed my sight ?" said he, after a
short silence. " The rays of the moon fell full upon
the face of the poor fellow. It was not my man. I
had done my duty, however ; I had been paid to kill
a man. I had killed him. And my conscience qui
eted on this score, I set about cutting off a lock of hair
from the head of the unknown, in order to convince
my employer that I had fulfilled my mission. ' All
men's hair is of the same color,' said I to myself. I
was again deceived ; the man I had killed was an En
glishman, and had hair red as a ripe pimenta. The
handsome cavalier still lived. Chagrined at my dis
appointment, I blasphemed the holy name of God, and
that is what I accuse myself of, holy father."
Perico beat his breast, while the Franciscan showed
him the blackness of the latter crime of which he was
guilty, passing very slightly over the former, for the
life of a man, an English heretic above all, is of very
little importance in the eyes of the least enlightened
^lass of the Mexican people, o£ which the monk and

KEST IN PEACE. 21
the lepero were two very distinct types. Fray Sera
pio finished his exhortation by administering hastily
to Perico an absolution in Latin, worthy of Moliere's
comedies. He then said, in good Spanish,
"All you have got to do now is to ask pardon of
this cavalier for having fleeced him so often, which he
will willingly grant, seeing that it is very improbable
that you will lay him again under contribution, at least
for a long time."
The lepero turned to me, and, in as languishing a
tone as he could assume,
"I am a double-dyed rascal," said he, "and shall
only consider myself completely absolved if you will
pardon me for the unworthy tricks that I have played
upon you. I am going to die, Senor Cavalier, and I
have not the wherewithal to bury me. My wife must
be told of my situation, and it will be a great comfort to
her if she find something in my pocket to pay for my
shroud. God will reward you for it, Senor Cavalier."
" In truth," said the monk, " you can hardly refuse
the poor devil this favor, as they are the last piastres
he will cost you."
" God grant it ! " said I, not thinking about the cruel
ty of the wish, and I emptied my purse into Perico's
outstretched hand. He shut his eyes, let his head fall
upon his breast, and said no more.
" Hequiescat in jjace /" said Fray Serapio; "the
sports must be far advanced by this time. I can be
of no farther use here."
We went out. After all, said I to myself in leav
ing the circus, this recital has been the most curious
revelation I have yet got from the Zaragate. Such a
confession as this is ample amends for the drafts upon
my purse which this singular personage has made. Be^-

22 THE ALAMEDA OF MEXICO.
sides, this would be the last lesson the lepero would
ever give me ; and, with this thought in my mind, I
could not help pitying the poor wretch. I was wrong,
however, as will be seen in the sequel, in thinking that
I would have no more dealings with my master Perico.

CHAPTER II.
The Alameda.* — The Paseo of Bucareli.
There are few towns in Mexico which can not boast
of having an Alameda ; and, as generally happens in
the capital city, that of Mexico is decidedly the finest.
There is no promenade of this sort in Paris. Hyde
Park in London most nearly resembles it. The Ala
meda of Mexico forms a long square, surrounded by a
wall breast high, at the bottom of which runs a deep
ditch, whose muddy waters and offensive exhalation
mar the appearance of this almost earthly paradise.
An iron gate at each of its corners affords admission to
carriages, horsemen, and pedestrians. Poplars, ash-
trees, and willows bend their branches over the prin
cipal drive, and afford a leafy shade to the occupants
of the carriages and equestrians for whom this beauti
fully level road is appropriated. Alleys, converging
into large common centres, ornamented with fountains
and jets oVeau, interpose their clumps of myrtles, roses,
and jasmines between the carriages and the pedestri
ans, whose eyes can follow, through the openings in
those odoriferous bushes, the luxurious equipages and
prancing steeds caracoling round the Alameda. The
* Alameda, a general name for a public walk ; literally, a place
planted with poplars, alamos.

THE ALAMEDA OF MEXICO. 23
noise of the wheels, muffled by the sand on the drive,
scarcely reaches the ear, mingled as it is with the mur
mur of the water, the sighing of the wind through the
evergreen leafage, and the buzzing of bees and hum
ming-birds. The gilded carriage of the country and
the plain European chariot are continually passing each
other, and the gaudy trappings of the Mexican horses
contrast strongly with the unaffected plainness of the
English saddle, which wears a shabby appearance in
the midst of this Oriental luxury. The ladies of fash-;
ion have laid aside for the promenade the saya and
mantilla, to wear dresses which are only six months
behind the last Parisian mode. Stretched in dreamy
languor on their silk cushions, they allow their feet,
the pride and admiration of Europeans, to remain in
shoes, alas ! ill fitted for them. The sorry appearance
of their feet is hidden when in the carriages, through
the open window of which you can only see their dia
dems of black hair, decorated with natural flowers,
their seductive smile, and their gestures, in which vi
vacity and listlessness are so pleasingly blended. The
fan is kept in a perpetual flutter at the carriage window,
and speaking its own mysterious language. Swarms
of pedestrians present a spectacle not less piquant ;
and the sad-colored garments of the Europeans are
seen less frequently here than the variegated costumes
of America.
After taking a few turns, the carriages quit-the Ala
meda, the horsemen accompany them, and the whole
crowd saunters carelessly past a strongly-grated win
dow, which hangs over the path you must traverse be
fore reaching a promenade called the Paseo of Buca-
reli.* One can hardly tell what hideous scenes are
* The name of the viceroy who presented it to the town.

24 EVENING IN MEXICO.
daily exhibited there behind this rusty iron grating;
not two paces from the most fashionable promenade in
Mexico : this is the window of the Mexican Morgue,
where the dead bodies are exposed. Justice only dis
plays her anxiety at the moment when the dead bodies
of men and women are thrown together in one promis
cuous heap on its floor, some half naked, others still
bleeding. Every day there is a new succession of vic
tims. As for the Paseo, which is close to this melan
choly exhibition, its only attractions are a double row
of trees, a few stone seats for the use of pedestrians,
and three fountains overloaded with detestable allegor
ical statues. At this spot you catch a glimpse of a
part of the country seen from the towers of the Cathe
dral ; the two snow-covered peaks of the volcanoes with
their canopy of clouds ; the sierra shaded with its
beautiful violet tints : lower down, the whitened fronts
of several haciendas ; and through the arches of a gi
gantic aqueduct you descry fields of maize, church
domes and convents, almost always half hidden at the
promenade hour in the mist which generally ascends
at nightfall.
On the evening of the day on which I had witnessed
the bull-fight, I found myself in a crowd of idlers who
ordinarily cover the space between the Paseo and the
Alameda. It was twilight ; the lamps were about to be
lighted, and pedestrians and carriages were severally
wending their way homeward. It was Sunday. Noisi
ly repeated by the numerous bells of the churches and
convents, the toll of the Angelus rose high above the
murmur of the crowd, of which one portion respectful
ly paused, while the other made its way like a torrent
that nothing could resist. The last gleams of depart
ing day glimmered through the grate of the Morgue, and

A MEXICAN POLICEMAN. 25
lighted up feebly the victims who were lying promis
cuously on the slabbed pavement, stained here and
there with large patches of blood. Women, uttering
the most piercing cries of sorrow, returned to the rusty
grated window, though again and again pushed back
by the soldiers. Their cries attracted the passers-by ;
some pitied them ; others contented themselves with
peering curiously in their faces. Kneeling before the
grated window, his head uncovered, and the bridle of
his richly-caparisoned horse in his hand, stood a man
praying devoutly. From his costume you could easi
ly see that he belonged to that opulent class of inhab-^
itants of the Tierra Afuera, who disdain both the
fashions and ideas of Europeans. His picturesque
costume harmonized well with his manly and noble
features. Above the right eyebrow of the stranger
extended a long narrow scar. It was doubtless the
handsome young cavalier whom Perico had that very
morning described to me. Was he thanking God for
preserving him from danger, or for loving and being
loved ? The question remained doubtful ; besides, the
emotions which gave rise to these conjectures were sud
denly interrupted. Startled by the noise of the car
riages, a refractory horse struck violently against a
ladder, on the top of which a sereno (watchman) was
lighting a lamp suspended from the walls of the bar
rack of La Acordada. The sereno fell from a height
of fifteen feet, and lay motionless on the pavement. It
would be easy to describe the feelings of the unfortu
nate horseman when he saw the poor fellow lying un
conscious, and perhaps dangerously injured ; for the
cavalier, I must own, was myself; but I prefer telling
what followed.
Every one is well aware of the benevolent feelings

26 POPULACE IN MEXICO.
of the populace of great towns toward those who have
the misfortune to be guilty of such sad accidents. It
is impossible, however, to have an exact idea of the
spirit of such a populace, in Mexico especially, toward
a foreigner, which is there synonymous with a national
enemy. Hemmed in, in spite of his mettle, amid a
dense crowd of leperos, who were deliberating only
what sort of punishment to inflict on the unhappy au
thor of such a calamity, my horse was of no use to me.
I could not help envying for an instant the fate of the
sereno, insensible at least to the rude hustling of the
crowd, who mercilessly trod him under foot. Fortu
nately, chance sent jne two auxiliaries, on one of whom,
at least, I was far from reckoning. The first was an
alcalde, who, escorted by four soldiers, made his way
through the crowd, and told me that in his eyes I was
guilty of having caused the death of a Mexican citizen.
I bowed, and said not a word. In compliance with
the magistrate's orders, the still inanimate body of the
sereno was placed on a tapestle (a kind of litter), al
ways kept at the barracks for similar accidents ; then
politely inviting me to dismount, the alcalde ordered
me to follow the litter on foot to the palace, which was
not more than two paces from the prison. It may be
supposed that I took good care not to comply at once
with this invitation, and attempted to demonstrate to
the alcalde that the exceptional case in which I stood
nowise warranted such a procession. Unhappily, the
alcalde was, like all his class, gifted with strong ob
stinacy, and replied to all my arguments only by in
sisting on the respect due to custom. I then thought
of seeking among the spectators some one who might
be security for me, and, very naturally, my eyes sought
the place where I had seen the cavalier, who had, at

PERICO SECURITY FOR THE CAVALIER. 27
first sight, inspired me with such interest ; but he had
disappeared. Was I then to be compelled to submit
to the odious formality required by the alcalde ? Chance
at this moment sent me the second auxiliary of which
I have spoken. This new personage, who interposed
between me and the alcalde, was very jauntily dressed
in a cloak of olive-colored Queretaro cloth, the skirt
of which, thrown back, almost entirely hid his face.
Through the numerous rents in his cloak appeared a
jacket as dilapidated as his upper garment. Having,
with great exertion, got through the crowd as far as
the alcalde, this personage passed his hands through
one of the holes in his cloak, and was thus able to
touch the remains of a hat which covered his head
without disarranging the folds of his cape. He cour
teously uncovered, while a few cigarettes, a lottery
ticket, and an image of the miraculous Virgin of Gua-
daloupe remained sticking in his long black hair. I
was not a little surprised in recognizing in this re
spectable townsman my friend Perico, whom I believed
dead, and on the eve of being buried.
" Senor Alcalde," said Perico, " this cavalier is
right. He committed the murder involuntarily, and
he should not be confounded with ordinary malefac
tors ; besides, I am here to become security for him,
for I have the honor of his intimate acquaintance."
" And who will be security for you V asked the al
calde. "My antecedents," modestly replied the Zaragate,
"and this cavalier," added he, pointing to me.
" But if you become security for him ?"
" Well, I become security for this cavalier — he is
security for me ; you have, therefore, two securities for
one, and your lordship could not be better suited."

28 A MEXICAN MOB.
I confess that, placed between the justice of the al
calde and the offensive protection of Perico, I hesitated
an instant. On his side, the alcalde seemed scarcely
convinced by the syllogism which Perico had enunci
ated with such barefaced assurance. I thought it best,
then, to finish the debate by whispering to the alcalde
my address.
" Well," he replied, on retiring, " I accept the secu
rity of your friend in the olive cloak, and will go im
mediately to your house, where I hope to find you."
The alcalde and his soldiers walked away ; the mob
remained as compact and threatening as before, but a
shrill whistle and two or three gambols played by Per
ico soon caused him to be acknowledged by the peo
ple of his caste, who eagerly made way for him. The
lepero then took my horse by the bridle, and I quitted
this scowling rabble very uneasy about the termina
tion of my adventure, and much depressed at the un
fortunate event of which I had been the innocent
cause. " How comes it that I find you in such good health ?"
said I to my guide, when I had recovered a little raj
presence of mind. "I confess I thought your affairs
in this world were forever wound up."
" God wrought a miracle specially for his servant,"
returned Perico, and he devoutly raised his eyes to
heaven ; " but it appears, senor, that my resurrection
displeases you. You can conceive that, in spite of my
strong desire to be agreeable to you — "
" Not at all, Perico ; by no means ; I am delighted
to see you alive ; but how was this miracle brought
about?" " I don't know," gravely replied the lepero ; " only
I was resuscitated so quickly as not only to resume

RESUSCITATION OF PERICO. 29
my place among the spectators of the fight, but even
to attempt another ascension. I had just been con
fessed and received absolution, and it was a capital
opportunity for risking my life without endangering
my soul. I wished to profit by it, and it brought me
good fortune ; for this time, although the bull gave me
another pitch in the air with his horns, I fell on my
feet, to the great delight of the public, who showered
reals and half reals upon me. Then finding myself,
thanks, to you especially, with a tolerably well-lined
purse, I thought it my duty to satisfy my love for
dress ; I went to a baratillo, and purchased this garb,
which gives me quite a respectable appearance. You
saw with what consideration the alcalde treated me.
There is nothing like being well dressed, senor."
I saw clearly that the fellow had clone me once more,
and that his pretended agony, like his confession, had
been only simulated for the purpose of getting more
money out of me. I must confess, however, that my
anger was disarmed at this moment by the comic dig
nity with which the lepero strutted about in his torn
cloak all the time he was holding forth in this strange
way. I determined to rid myself of company that was
becoming troublesome to me, and said to Perico, with
a smile, " If I reckon accurately, your children's illness, your
wife's confinement, and your own shroud have cost me
little less than a hundred piastres ; to release you of
the whole debt will, I would fain hope, be a sufficient
reward for the service you have rendered me. I will
therefore return home immediately; and I again thank
you for your kindness."
" Home, senor ! What are you thinking about ?"
cried Perico ; " why, by this time your house will be

30 NOT TO BE SHAKEN OFF.
in the hands of the soldiers ; they are seeking you
among all your friends. You do not know the alcalde
you have to do with."
" Do you know him, then ?"
" I know all the alcaldes, senor ; and what proves
how little I deserve the surname bestowed upon me
is, that all the alcaldes do not know me ; but of all
his fellows, the one in pursuit of you is the most
cunning, the most rapacious, and the most diabol
ical." Although I felt that this portrait was exaggerated,
I was for a moment shaken in my resolution. Perico
then represented to me, in very moving terms, the hap
piness his wife and children would receive by seeing
their benefactor indebted to them for a night's lodging.
Having a choice between two protectors equally disin
terested, I allowed myself to be convinced by the one
whose rapacity seemed most easily satisfied ; I decided
upon once more following the lepero.
Meanwhile, night came on ; we traversed suspicious
lanes, deserted places, streets unknown to me, and
shrouded in darkness. The serenos (policemen) be
came more and more scarce. I felt myself hurried
away into the heart of those dreadful suburbs where
justice dares not penetrate ; I was unarmed, and at the
mercy of a man whose frightful confession I had just
heard. Hitherto the Zaragate, I must confess, in spite
of his crimes so unblushingly avowed, did not seem to
me to stand out in glaring relief among a people de
moralized by ignorance, want, and civil wars ; but at
that hour, amid a labyrinth of dark lanes, and in the
silence of the night, my imagination gave fantastic and
colossal dimensions to his picaresque figure. My po
sition was a difficult one. To leave such a guide sud-

THE POLICEMAN. 31
denly in this cut-throat quarter was dangerous, to fol
low him not less so.
"Where the devil do you live?" said I. The
lepero scratched his head in answer. I asked him
again. " To say the truth," replied he at last, "having no
fixed abode, I live a little every where."
"And your wife and children, and the night's shel
ter you offered me ?"
' ' I forgot, " replied the Zaragate, imperturbably ; "I
sent away my wife and children yesterday to — to Que-
retaro ; but as for a lodging — "
" Is that at Queretaro also ?" I asked Perico, dis
covering, when too late, that the wife and children of
this honorable personage were as imaginary as his
abode. " As for shelter," added Perico, with the same im
passible air, " you shall share that which I can pro
cure for you, and which I find when my means won't
admit of paying for a night's lodging, for heaven does
not send us every day bull-fights and such like wind
falls. Stop," said he, pointing with his finger to a glim
mering light at a distance, which was reflected on the
granite pavement ; " that is perhaps what we are seek
ing for."
We advanced to the light, and soon perceived that
it came from the lantern of a sereno. Wrapped in a
yellow cloak almost as ragged as Perico's, the guardian
of the night, squatted on the pavement, seemed to fol
low with his melancholy gaze the large clouds which
flitted across the sky. At our approach he still kept
his indolent position.
"Halloo ! friend," said the Zaragate, "do you know
of any velorio (wake) in this neighborhood ?"

32 MEXICAN CASUISTRY.
"Of course, a few cuadras from here, near the bridge
of Eguizamo, you will find one ; and if I did not fear
some round of the Senor Regidor's, or found some
good fellow to don my cloak and take care of my lan
tern, I would go with you to the entertainment my
self." "Much obliged," said Perico, politely; "we will
profit by the information."
The sereno cast a look of astonishment at my dress,
which was singularly out of keeping with Perico's.
" Gentlemen like that cavalier are little in the habit
of frequenting such meetings," said the man of the po
lice. " This is a special case ; this senor has contracted
a debt which obliges him to spend the night else
where." " That makes all the difference in the world," said
the sereno. " There are some debts that one likes to
be as long in paying as possible." And, hearing a
church clock strike at a distance, the night-watch,
troubling himself no more about us, cried out in a dole
ful tone, "Nine o'clock and stormy weather." He
then resumed his former attitude, while the distant
voices of the serenos answered him in succession
through the silence of the night.
I resumed my melancholy march behind Perico, fol
lowed by my horse, which I led by the bridle, as, by
the police regulations of Mexico, no one is allowed to
ride through the streets after Angelus has rung, and I
was unwilling to try another fall with the alcaldes.
Shall I confess it ? My curiosity was roused by the
words of my guide, and I decided at this moment not
to separate from him. I wanted to know what a ve-
lorio was ; and this love of novelty, which finds so

NIGHT SCENE IN MEXICO. 33
many opportunities of satisfying itself in Mexico, once
more made me forget my troubles.
We had not walked ten minutes, till, as the sereno
had told us, we came to a bridge thrown over a narrow
canal. Some dilapidated houses bathed their greenish
bases in the thick muddy water. A lamp which burn
ed dimly before a picture of the souls in Purgatory
threw its livid reflex on the stagnant water. On the
terraces the watch-dogs bayed at the moon, which was
sometimes hidden, sometimes fringed only by a mov
able curtain of clouds, for it was the rainy season.
Except those doleful sounds, all was silent there as in
the other parts of the town that we had traversed.
The windows in the first story, brightly lighted up
opposite the picture of the souls in Purgatory, were
the only things remarkable in this double row of mel
ancholy-looking huts. Perico knocked at the door of
the house with the illuminated windows. They were
rather long in coming ; at last the door half opened,
one of the leaves being fastened as usual by an iron
chain. " Who is there ?" said a man's voice.
"Friends who come to pray for the dead and rejoice
with the living," said Perico, without hesitation.
We entered. Lighted by the porter's lantern, we
passed through a porch and entered an inner court.
The guide pointed out to Perico an iron ring let into
the wall. I tied my horse up by the bridle ; we as
cended some twenty steps, and I entered, preceded by
Perico, a room tolerably well lighted up. I was at
last going to learn what a velorio was.
B2

34 A MEXICAN WAKE.

CHAPTER m.
A Mexican Wake.
The company to which Perico had introduced me
presented a very singular appearance. About twenty
men and women of the lowest class were seated in a
circle, chatting, bawling, and gesticulating. A dank,
cadaverous smell pervaded the apartment, which was
hardly smothered by the smoke of cigars, and the fumes
of Xeres and Chinguirito. In a corner of the room
stood a table loaded with provisions of every sort, with
cups, bottles, and flasks. Some gamblers, seated at a
table a little farther off, jingling copper money, and
shouting out the technical terms of monte, were quar
reling, with drunken excitement, over piles of cuartil-
las* and tlacos. Under the triple excitement of wine,
women, and play, the orgie, which had only commenced
when I arrived, seemed likely to mount to a formida
ble height ; but what struck me most was precisely
that which seemed to engage the attention of the as
sembly least. A young child, who seemed to have
scarcely reached his seventh year, was lying at full
length on a table. His pale brow, wreathed with flow
ers faded by the heat of the stifling atmosphere, his
glazed eyes, and shriveled, sunken cheeks, already
tinged with a violet hue, plainly showed that life had
left him, and that it was some days, probably, since
he had slept the eternal sleep. The mere sight of the
little corpse was heartrending amid the cries, the gam-
* A cuartilla is worth lid; a tlaco id.

THE DEAD CHILD. 35
bling, and the noisy conversation ; the men and wom
en meanwhile laughing and singing like savages. The
flowers and jewels which decorated him, far from strip
ping death of its gloomy solemnity, only made the ap
pearance more hideous. A general silence followed
our entrance. A man, in whom I soon recognized the
master of the house and the father of the dead child,
rose to receive us. His face, far from being oppressed
with sadness, seemed, on the contrary, radiant with
delight, and he pointed with an air of pride to the nu
merous guests that had assembled to celebrate the
death of his son, an event considered as a favor from
heaven, since God had been pleased to call the child
to himself before he was old enough to displease him.
He assured us that we were welcome to his house, and
that to him, on such an occasion, strangers became
friends. Thanks to the loquacity of Perico, I had be
come the focus on which all eyes were centred. I
had a difficult part to play, Perico thinking it right to
make it appear to all who would listen to him that no
one could kill people with a better grace than I. To
enable me to act my part properly, I hastened to put
my gloves in my pocket, and affect the most cavalier
assurance, convinced that it was prudent to follow the
fashion. " What do you think of the lodging I have found
you?" asked Perico, rubbing his hands; "is not this
better than what I could offer you ? besides, you will
now know what a velorio is ; it will be a resource in
the evenings when you are low-spirited, and have noth
ing to do. Thanks to me, you will thus acquire a title
to the eternal gratitude of this worthy father, whose
child, having died before its seventh year, is now an
angel in heaven."

3(5 MEXICAN MOTHERS.
And Perico, anxious, no doubt, to have a share in
this tribute of gratitude, seized, without ceremony, an
enormous glass of chinguirito, and swallowed it at a
draught. I witnessed for the first time this barbarous
custom, which compels the father of a family to cloak
his sorrow beneath a smiling face, and to do the hon
ors of his house to the first vagabond who, under the
guidance of a sereno, comes to gorge himself with meat
and drink before the corpse of his son, and share in
that profuse liberality which often brings want to the
family on the morrow.
The orgie, which had been disturbed a moment by
our entrance, now fell in its usual course, and I began
to cast my eyes about a little. In the midst of a cir
cle of excited females, who esteem it a duty never to
neglect a night-wake, I perceived a pale face, lips at
tempting to smile in spite of eyes full of tears, and, in
this victim of a gross superstition, I had little difficul
ty in detecting the mother, for whom an angel in heav
en could not compensate for the angel she missed on
earth. The women about her seemed vying with one
another as to who should increase the sorrow of the
poor woman by their ill-timed but well-meant impor
tunities. The different stages of the disease, and the
sufferings of the dead child, were described by one
woman ; another enumerated infallible remedies that
she would have applied if she had been consulted in
time, such as St. Nicholas's plasters, moxas, the vapor
of purslane gathered on a Friday in Lent, decoctions
of herbs strained through a bit of a Dominican's frock,
and the poor credulous mother turned her head away
to wipe her eyes, thoroughly convinced that these rem
edies, if applied in time, would have saved her child.
Sherry and cigarettes were rapidly consumed during

PERICO S ORTHODOXY. 37
these discussions ; then all the innocent games in use in
Spanish America were proposed and played, while the
children, weary and sleepy, lay down to rest in every
corner of the room, as if envying him whose discolored
face protested, beneath the withered flowers, against
this odious profanation of the dead.
Seated in the deep recess of one of the windows
which looked into the street, I watched all Perico's mo
tions with some uneasiness. It appeared to me that
the protection he had so suddenly bestowed was only
a cloak to entrap me. My features must have betray
ed my uneasiness, for the lepero approached and said,
by way of consolation,
" Look you, senor, killing a man is like every thing
else ; the first step is the only painful one. Besides,
your sereno may perhaps be like my Englishman, who
is to-day as well as ever. These heretics have as many
lives as a cat. Ah ! sehor," said Perico, with a sigh,
"I have always regretted that I was not a heretic."
" To have as many lives as a cat?"
" No, to be paid for my conversion ! Unfortunately,
my reputation as a Christian is too well established."
" But the cavalier you were to kill," I asked of Per
ico, naturally brought back to the recollection of the
melancholy young man whom I had seen kneeling be
fore the Morgue, " do you think that he is still alive ?"
Perico shook his head. " To-morrow, perhaps, his
mad passion may have cost him his life, and his mis
tress will not survive him. I have no desire to make
two victims at once, and I threw up the business."
"These sentiments do you honor, Perico."
Perico wished to profit by the favorable impression
his answer had produced upon me.
"Doubtless — you can not risk your soul so for a

38 A MEXICAN ORGIE
few piastres. But, speaking of piastres, senor," he
continued, holding out his hand, " I feel in the vein,
and perhaps there are still a few pieces left in your
purse. If I break the bank at monte, you shall go
halves with my winnings."
I thought it prudent to yield to this new demand of
the Zaragate. The play, besides, would free me from
his company, which was becoming irksome. I slip
ped, then, some piastres into Perico's hand. Almost at
the same moment twelve o'clock struck. One of the
company rose, and cried in a solemn tone, "It is the
hour of the souls in Purgatory ; let us pray ! "
The gamblers arose, amusements were suspended,
and all the company gravely knelt. The prayer be
gan in a high tone of voice, interrupted by responses
at regular intervals, and for the first time the object
of the meeting seemed remembered. Picture to your
selves these sots, their eyes glazed with drunkenness —
these women in tatters, standing round a corpse crown
ed with flowers ; draw over all this kneeling crowd the
vapors of a thick atmosphere, in which putrid miasmas
were mingled with the fumes of liquor, and you will
have an idea of the strange and horrible scene of which
I was forced to become an unwilling eye-witness.
Prayers over, gambling commenced anew, but not
with so much liveliness as before. In company, when
the night is far advanced, there is always a strong in
clination to go to sleep ; but when this struggle is
over, the spirits become more lively, and get almost
delirious and frantic. That is the hour of the orgie :
the time was approaching.
I had again sat down in the recess of the window,
and, to drive away the drowsiness which I felt steal
ing upon me, occasioned by the close air in the room,

AND NIGHT PATROL. 39
had opened the window a little. Looking out into the
darkness of the night, I tried to find out, by the stars,
what o'clock it was, and also to trace my way mental
ly through the labyrinth of streets, but I could scarce
ly see a bit of the sky, which on that night was cloudy,
above the tops of the neighboring houses. I never re
membered to have seen in Mexico before this canal
with its leaden waters, nor those dark, deserted lanes
which ran at right angles to it. I was completely at
fault. Should I remain any longer amid this hideous
orgie ? Ought I not to try to escape, even though it
was dangerous, through the streets of this distant sub
urb ? While I was irresolutely weighing all these
things in my mind, a noise of steps and confused whis
pers attracted my attention. I hid myself behind one
of the shutters, so as to see and hear without being
seen. Half a dozen men soon issued from a lane in
front of the house in which I was. Their leader was
wrapped in an esclivina* which only half concealed
the scabbard of his sword. The others were armed
with naked sabres. A European but newly arrived in
the country would have considered them criminals
from their timid deportment, but my experienced eye
could not be deceived ; justice alone could seem so ter
rified, and I easily recognized the night patrol, com
posed of a regidor, an auxiliary alcalde, and four cela-
dores. "Voto a briosf" said the man in the esclavina,
probably one of the auxiliary magistrates, at once al
caldes and publicans, who lodge criminals during the
day, and let them off to pursue them at night ; " what
does my Lord Prefect mean by sending us to patrol in
such a quarter as this, where the officers of justice
* A small frock-coat, a short cloak.

40 AN UNEXPECTED MEETING.
have never penetrated. I should like to see him em
ployed about this business."
"He would take care to provide himself with fire
arms, that he refuses to us," said one of the corchetes,
who appeared the coolest of the party, "for criminals
and malefactors are not in the habit of carrying the
arms we do, and the person whom we have been or
dered to protect will perhaps experience it this night
to his cost."
"What the devil!" said the alcalde, "when one
knows that he runs the risk of getting a dagger into
him at night, why does not he stay at home ?"
" There are some scamps whom nothing frightens,"
replied one of the corchetes ; "but, as the Evangelist
says, ' he who seeks the danger shall perish in it.' "
" What o'clock may it be now ?" asked the auxili
ary. " Four in the morning," answered one of the men ;
and, raising his eyes to the window behind which I
was concealed, he added, " I envy those people who
pass the night so merrily in that tertulia.'''' Talking
thus, the celadores walked along the brink of the ca
nal. All at once the auxiliary at their head stumbled
in the darkness. At that moment a man sprang up
and stood, before the patrol.
"Who are you?" cried the alcalde, in a voice meant
to be imposing.
" What's that to you?" replied the man as haughti
ly. "Can't a man sleep in the streets without being
questioned?" "One sleeps at home as — as — much as possible,"
stammered the alcalde, evidently frightened.
The person thus caught acting so much like a vag
abond gave a shrill whistle, and, pushing the alcalde

GAMBLING FOR A CHILD. 41
aside, ran down a neighboring lane. To my great
surprise, the alcalde and the celadores, like men who
dread a snare, instead of following him, ran off in quite
an opposite direction. Almost at the same moment a
hand was laid on my shoulder. I started and turned
about. Perico and my host stood before me.
" That whistle sounds wonderfully like the call of
my chum Navaja, when out on an expedition," cried
the former, stooping to peer through the window, while
the latter, with bleared eyes, his legs tottering hke a
man who had too conscientiously fulfilled his duties as
master of the house, offered me a glass of liquor, that
his shaky hand allowed to run over. Then, with the
irritability peculiar to drunkards,
"One may say, senor," said he to me, "that you
despise the society of poor people like us ; you don't
play, you don't drink ; yet, in certain cases of con
science, gambling and brandy give great relief. Look
at me now ! To gratify my friends, I have eaten and
drunk what I have and what I haven't : well, I am hap
py, although I don"t possess a tlaco in the world ; and,
if you like, I will play with you for my child's body !
It is a stake," continued he, in a confidential tone,
" which is as good as another, for I can let it out, and
well too, to some lover of a velorio."
" Play for the body of your child !" I cried.
"Why not? That is done every day. Everybody
hasn't the good fortune to have an angel aloft, and the
body of this dear little one brings luck here."
I got rid, as well as I could, of the entreaties of
this tender-hearted father, and cast my eyes once more
into the street, but the approaches to the canal were
now silent and deserted. I was not long, however, in
discovering that this quiet, this solitude, were only ap-

42 THE ORGIE AT ITS HEIGHT.
parent. Some strange, vague sounds escaped now and
then from one of the lanes leading to the canal. Pres
ently I fancied I heard the crunching of unsteady steps
on the gravel. With my body leaning over the bal
cony, and listening intently, I waited for the moment
when the awful stillness would be broken by some cry
of anguish. The sound of voices, loud in dispute,
again drew my attention to the room on which my
back was turned. The orgie was this moment at its
height. The Zaragate, surrounded by a group of an
gry gamblers, whose suspicions had been roused by
his run of good luck, was trying, but in vain, to wrap
around him the shreds of his olive cloak, which had
been torn into ribbons by the furious hands of his ad
versaries. The most stinging epithets were launched against
him from all sides.
"I am a man of substance," cried the fellow, im
pudently, " as much as those whose uncivil hands have
torn to tatters the handsomest cloak lever possessed."
" Barefaced swindler ! " cried a gambler ; "your cloak
had as many rents as your conscience."
" In any other place," replied Perico, who was pru
dently edging toward the door, "you would have to
give me satisfaction for this double insult. Senor,"
said he, appealing to me, "be my surety, as I have
been yours ; half of my winnings is yours ; they were
honestly come by. All this is but mere slander."
I was once more mentally cursing my intimacy with
Perico, when an occurrence of a graver nature made a
happy diversion to the scene in which I saw myself in
danger of becoming an actor. A man rushed hurried
ly out of one of the back rooms on the same floor.
Close behind him another followed, knife in hand ; a

THE KNIFE. 43
woman after, shrieking terribly, and her dress flying
in disorder about her.
"Will you stand and see me murdered?" cried the
pursued, piteously. " Will no one hand me a knife ?"
"Let me bury my knife in this rascal's body, this
destroyer of my honor!" gasped the outraged hus
band. The women, doubtless through sympathy, shrieked
in concert, and uttered the most dreadful cries, while
a friend of the offender slyly slipped a long knife into
his hand. The latter faced about, and rushed boldly
at his adversary. The cries of the women increased ;
a dreadful confusion ensued. The infuriated fellows
made prodigious efforts to get at one another. Blood
was about to flow, when, in the struggle, the table on
which the infant lay was overturned. The body fell
on the floor with a dull, heavy sound, and the flowers
were scattered about. A large circle formed round the
profaned corpse. A piercing shriek rose over all the
uproar, and the bereaved mother threw herself on her
child's remains with a cry of intense agony.
I had seen too much. I rushed to the balcony to
cast a second look into the street, to assure myself that
escape was yet possible ; but there was no egress in
that way. A man had just emerged from one of the
lanes which opened upon the opposite bank of the
canal. Other men came behind him, brandishing their
weapons. This Navaja, whom Perico acknowledged
as one of the fraternity, had doubtless collected his
troop, and I was about to see him terminate, without
being able to help his victim, one of those nocturnal
brawls, of which some of the leperos boast. The per
son they were pursuing soon reached the parapet, and
set his back to it. I distinctly heard him exclaim,

44 PERICO'S APPROPRIATION.
" Back, you cowardly rascals, who fight five to
one." "At him, Muchachos /" cried the chief of the band ;
"there are a hundred piastres to be earned."
Need I tell what followed ? The unequal struggle
lasted only a few moments. Soon a fierce shout an
nounced that the murderers had triumphed. The un
happy man still breathed. He was able even to drag
himself to the bridge, and, waving the stump of his
sword, to dare the assassins to come on. Again sur
rounded by these villains, he once more fell beneath
their blows. By the wan light of the lamp burning
for the souls in Purgatory, I saw the men lift a bleed
ing body and throw it into the canal, the surface of
which was for a moment disturbed. A second after,
the assassins dispersed, and so rapidly that I asked
myself if all this was not a bad dream ; but the real
ity was too evident for me to indulge long in this
error. Another incident occurred to prove to me that
I was wide awake. A man on horseback issued from
the house to which a fatal chain of events had bound
me, and in this man I recognized Perico, mounted on
the noble animal that I had brought with so much
trouble from the hacienda de la Noria.
"Halloo, you rascal!" I exclaimed, "this is too
much; you are stealing my horse."
" Senor," replied Perico, with astonishing compo
sure, "lam carrying away a proof which might crim
inate your lordship."
Such was the lepero's farewell. The spurs driven
home, the horse sprang off at a gallop. Without tak
ing leave of any body, I set off in pursuit. It was too
late ; I only heard in the distance his plaintive neigh
and the break of his gallop. These sounds soon died

THE ASSASSINATED. 45
away. I rushed at random down one of the lanes which
led to the canal. I wandered a long time in this laby
rinth before finding myself in a place I knew, and day
was breaking before I discovered my whereabouts.
Night had brought its counsel, and I resolved to make
a declaration in a court of law about the misfortune I
had caused the night before. I went, then, to the juz-
gado de latras* When I entered the judge had not
yet arrived, and I waited in the hall. Fatigue and
want of sleep were not long in making me oblivious of
all my anxieties, and I fell asleep on a bench. I was
retracing in my dreams the extraordinary scenes I had
witnessed. I fancied I heard a dull noise about me,
then deep silence all at once. I opened my eyes ; I
still believed myself a prey to the nightmare. A
stretcher, covered with a bloody sheet, was laid almost
at my feet. A thought passed through me like a flash
of lightning. I imagined that I had been recognized,
and that, by a refinement of barbarous justice, they
were about to confront me with him whose death I had
caused. I walked to the end of the lobby ; the sight
of the bloody sheet became insupportable to me. I
gradually reassured myself, however, and, arming my
self with courage, went and raised a corner of the cov
ering. I had no difficulty in recognizing the victim.
His pale, handsome face, and forehead marked with a
long, slender scar, had left too deep an impression in
my memory. The marshy plants and green slime
which soiled his clothes reminded me of the theatre of
the crime. This was the man I had seen die so val
iantly, and whose loss, I knew, would be so tenderly
bewailed. I let the sheet fall over his noble face.
I hasten to terminate this too long story. Twenty
* Justiciary court. The juez de latras is the criminal judge.

46 MY EXPERIENCE AND ITS COST.
days had passed. No attention seemed to have been
paid to the unfortunate accident of which I had been
the innocent cause, and nothing remained of my noc
turnal adventures but an invincible horror of the whole
tribe of leperos, when I received an order to appear be
fore a strange alcalde. A man about forty years of
age, as much a stranger to me as the alcalde, was wait
ing for me at the bar.
" Senor," said this man to me, "lam the lamp
lighter whom your lordship almost killed ; and as this
accident has kept me from work for a fortnight, you
will not take it ill if I ask you to make it up to me."
" Certainly not," said I, delighted to know that I
had not to reproach myself with the death of any body.
" How much do you ask ?"
" Five hundred piastres, senor."
I must confess that this exorbitant charge imme
diately changed my pleasure into anger, and I could
not help mentally consigning the lamplighter to the
devil. But these feelings cooled down almost imme
diately ; and the alcalde advising me to compound
with the man, I was glad to be let off for a fifth part
of the sum demanded by the lamplighter. After all,
if my studies had been too expensive, the experience I
had gained had its value, and I regretted nothing that
Perico had extorted from me, not even the noble horse
which he had so ingeniously appropriated.

Jirag Serapio, % JFranrisran Jttonk.

CHAPTER I.
The Convent of St. Francis.

In the present state of society in Europe, in which
the principles and traditions of the Middle Ages have
been so completely broken up, one can hardly form any
idea of the influence which the monk exercises in Mex
ico, and of the strong tie which connects him with the
world. Lf, however, this bond had no existence, the
singular picture which Mexican society presents would
lose one of its greatest charms — the perpetual contrast,
namely, of the customs and characteristics of the nine
teenth century with those of the time of Philip II. Be
side men armed to the teeth, women dressed as in the
days of Cortez and Pizarro, and barelegged Indians,
with feet encased in ancient sandals, the gown of the
monk appears, not as an anomaly, but as a highly po
etic souvenir. This figure is not out of keeping with
the picture, but in perfect harmony with it. Wheth
er in public or in private, the monk takes a share in
Mexican life, not only every day, but almost every
moment. Not to speak of the many religious ceremo
nies performed by the monks, the rules of the cloister
are generally so lax as to allow them free liberty of
egress at almost any hour; and thus they can mix,
without difficulty, in all the gayeties of the world.

48 THE MEXICAN PREACHER.
You can easily understand what a picturesque element
is introduced into society by this immense crowd, who
issue every day from the numerous convents, each or
der bringing its own type upon the scene, from the
black frock of the Dominican to the white robe of
the Mercedario.
If the upper classes of Mexican society have es
caped from the trammels of monkish influence, the
middle classes regard them with as much superstitious
reverence as they did a century ago. The fantastic
eloquence of the Middle Ages still keeps its ground
here. The Mexican preacher, carried away by his en
thusiasm, seizes upon the most startling metaphors :
sometimes he represents God as ?naking the sun his
charger, and the moon his stirrvp ;* sometimes it is
an obscene story, to which, with the most imperturba
ble gravity, he attaches a religious moral. When out
of pulpit or confessional, the same man who inculcated
the severest ascetism, utters the raciest jokes, and
sings the best songs in some tertulia on the ground
floor. He even pushes his anxiety so far as to fur
nish the laity with hints about dress. He gives ex
cellent directions about the cut of a new suit of clothes ;
nay, more, he charges himself sometimes with their
purchase, frequenting assiduously the saloons of fash
ion — and there is no appeal from his criticism. Very
often his complaisance is not of the most disinterested
kind ; too often his purchase is only a kind of tribute
paid to a family whom the reverend father supports at
his own expense, on condition of tasting clandestinely
in its pleasures. The monk is every where except at
his convent. Every thing is an attraction to him —
bull-fights, cock-fights, gambling-tables, and theatres ;
* Cabalgando el sol, y estribando la luna.

THE MEXICAN PRIEST. 49
every place gives him an opportunity of displaying his
whims and oddities. Let no one fancy that his com
pliant manners operate against him as a priest and
spiritual director. The Mexicans understand to a
nicety the bond which unites devotion to worldly
pleasures. When the monk, late at night, wends his
way to his convent after a day spent in dissipation,
the passers-by, when they see him, bow the knee with
as much respect as if his pious discourses and conduct
were not in startling contrast with each other.
After this account of the character and habits of the
Mexican monk, no one will be astonished at the oc
currence which made me acquainted with one of the
j oiliest members of the great monastic family, the
Reverend Fray Serapio. Curiosity had led me to a
popular fete in the environs of Mexico, that of San
Augustin de las Crevas, a small town about twelve
miles from the capital. This fete, which makes Mex
ico a deserted city for three days, is frequented by the
elite of Mexican gamblers. Whoever does not play
is looked upon with suspicion. I followed the exam
ple of the numerous card-players who had been at
tracted to San Augustin, and seated myself at a table.
My opposite neighbor was a Franciscan of athletic
mould, and I shall never forget his sunburned, swarthy
countenance, his piercing look, and his shaven face
fringed with clusters of long crisp hair, shaggy as a
bison's mane. He was a true soldier in a monkish
dress. After a run of bad luck, I left the tables just
as my last stake disappeared in the pocket of the monk.
I wandered for some time in the streets of the village,
hearing around me every where the clink of quadru
ples and piastres. I then mounted my horse, and,
cursing my ill luck, took the road to Mexico. I had
C

50 THE TURNPIKE GATE.
scarcely gone more than half way when I was brought
to a stand-still by a very disagreeable circumstance.
A turnpike gate stood half way between Mexico and
San Augustin. Just as I came within sight of it, I
made the disagreeable discovery that I had not the
real necessary for passing me through the gate. Wish
ing to give myself time for reflection, I walked my
horse slowly along, but the fatal turnpike came al
ways nearer and nearer. I was just going to turn my
horse's head round and gallop back, when by chance
the Franciscan who had cleaned me out came up.
The lucky winner addressed me most politely, and I
replied in the most courteous manner. He offered to
accompany me to Mexico ; and the secret hope of be
ing able to pass the gate at the Franciscan's expense
doubtless made me accept his offer with so much alac
rity. I fancied that I was doing no more than an act
of politeness in congratulating my companion on his
ran of good luck. But what was my surprise when
he exclaimed, with a sigh, " Confound it ! I was quite
cleaned out down there ; I have nothing — nothing but
my debts. I must say that I counted upon you to
pass me through."
I confessed that I was just about to beg the same
favor of him. Upon this the Franciscan fell into such
convulsions of laughter that, in spite of myself, I could
not help joining him heartily. We then deliberated
what course to pursue. We hit upon several ludi
crous expedients, but they were rejected one after the
other. After some discussion, we decided that it
would be best to clear the turnpike at a gallop with
out paying. " We will pay double the next time we
pass," said the monk. Having thus disposed of this
case of conscience, he spurred his steed ; I followed.

THE MONASTERY. 51
We soon left the pikemen behind us ; and our horses
flying at full speed, a thick cloud of dust soon hid us
from their sight. Once at Mexico, it may be easily
understood that we did not part without agreeing to
meet again. A card-table, it must be owned, is rather
an extraordinary place for one to strike up a friend
ship with a monk.
The acquaintance thus commenced promised to be
agreeable, and a few days after our first meeting I re
paired to the convent of St. Francisco, the abode of
my friend. After this visit I went often, at first for
the Franciscan's sake, and afterward to see the con
vent, the most beautiful building of the kind in Mex
ico. To tell the truth, Fray Serapio was seldom in
his cell ; but his friendship insured me a constant
welcome at the monastery, the library of which pos
sessed inexhaustible treasures.
None of the religious communities scattered over
Mexico is so rich or powerful as that of St. Francis.
The vast extent of ground covered by the Franciscan
convents in all the large towns, and the massive walls,
crowned with numerous turrets, which surround them,
are sufficient indications of the power and wealth of
the order. The monastery to which chance had in
troduced me is at once worthy of the community that
owns it, and of the capital of which it is one of the
chief ornaments. The street of San Francisco, which
leads to the cloister of this name, is a continuation of
that crowded commercial street, the Plateros. The
cloister, happily situated in the most stirring part of
the town, rises at the extremity of the street Francis
co, and extends as far as the entrance to the Alameda.
The thick walls, flanked with massive buttresses, give
to the convent the appearance of a fortress. At the

52 THE MONASTERY.
same time, the spires, which shoot up into the air, and
the fine cupolas, covered with burnished tiles, gave
clear indications of the character of the building. You
arrive at the principal chapel by a vast flagged court,
which is always crowded with sight-seers, visitors, the
faithful, and the poor. Opposite the first court is an
inclosure reserved for the monks. The immense clois
ters, ornamented with basins inlaid with white jasper,
gardens, a rich library, new dormitories, three hundred
cells, a refectory, in which three hundred persons can
sit down to dinner, combine to form a spectacle at
once imposing and magnificent, which surpasses even
the expectation of the visitor who enters the convent
after having admired its exterior.
All my leisure hours, on Sundays especially, I
loved to bury myself in the huge dusty library, and to
ransack archives of which even the monks themselves
were quite ignorant. Two books, above all, captiva
ted me completely ; one was a volume of legendary
stories, the other a collection of autos defe, executed
by the Mexican Inquisition. I forgot even the lapse
of time while reading them. These atrocious recitals,
which the cold-blooded chronicler always sums up
with Laus Deo, exercised upon me, especially when
the day was waning, a singular fascination. The dis
tant droning of the organ, and the doleful chanting of
the monks, sometimes deepened the impression ; and,
in the mysterious gloom which had already enveloped
the hall, I fancied I saw rise before me the heroes of
the legendary stories, or the victims of the Inquisi
tion. When I came out of the library, and walked in
the cloisters, the monks whom I met in the dark cor
ridors seemed to me to bear no resemblance whatever
to those I had seen upholding the dignity of the cowl

THE CONVENT GARDEN. 53
in the streets of Mexico. There are two sorts of
monks in the convent : monks still young enough to
delight in a monte table and in a tertulia, and who
are never in their cells ; others whose age and infirm
ities prevent them from mixing with the world : these
last form the settled population, which is not a very
numerous one. Among the monks whom I met in
the corridors of San Francisco, there was one, above
all, who seemed to me to personify the convent life,
with all its attendants of gloomy observance and se
cret penance. He was an old man, with a shining
bald head ; a kind of awe, mingled with curiosity,
seized me whenever I saw him. I could have sworn
that one of those sombre pictures upon the walls of
the convent, from the pencil of Rodriguez, Cabrera, or
Villalpando, had left its frame and come to life again.
Sometimes I mused away an idle hour in the gar
den ; for, all the time I was in Mexico, solitude was
peculiarly pleasing to me. Since my arrival in Mex
ico, years had been added to years, and I began to
experience attacks of home-sickness. The unvarying
deep blue sky, so unlike that of France, rather in
creased my sadness. The appearance of the convent
garden, surrounded on all sides by lofty walls, was in
perfect harmony with the melancholy thoughts which
had taken possession of my mind. The sun had cal
cined the brick walls, upon which opened the windows
of the tenantless cells. Weeds were growing here
and there on a terrace shaded with the wide-spread
ing branches of the sycamore, the palma christi, and
the mango. An arbor, ornamented with climbing
plants, was the place to which I most frequently di
rected my steps. There, under a flowery arch, where
the passion-flower, that favorite plant of the cloisters,

54 THE CONVENT GARDEN.
the jasmine, and the clematis, with its beautiful flow
ers, grew in charming confusion, I passed many long
hours, dreaming of my native country and absent
friends. A mysterious charm drew me to this fresh
and rustic retreat. A quaint device, cut on the trunk
of a sycamore, which threw its branches across my
bower, often attracted my attention : In silentio et in
spe erit fortitudo tua. My soul felt strengthened
and soothed in this solitude. In this wild and uncul
tivated garden I was charmed into a forgetfulness of
the world, where the only sounds that reminded me
of life were the buzzing of the humming-birds among
the rose-bushes, the tinkling of bells, and the distant
droning of the organ.
I scarcely ever saw any one in the garden. One
monk only seemed to share with me a predilection for
this peaceful inclosure, and, above all, for the arbor,
from which I almost always saw him escaping at my
approach. He was the same man whom I had so oft
en watched in the cloisters with such a fearful curios
ity. Sometimes I surprised him watering the garden
borders, or giving his care to those flowers which grew
near the grass-grown walks. My imagination soon
found some romantic link between this melancholy old
man and the forsaken bower. I resolved to enter into
conversation with him. A* conscience so troubled as
his seemed to be might surely be able to make some
curious revelations ; but, after repeated attempts to
rouse him from his habitual taciturnity, I was forced
to give it up as hopeless. With hands crossed, and
face turned to the ground, the monk, every time he
met me, quickened his pace and vanished from my
sight. I looked at him always with intense interest,
as the intellectual though stern expression of his fea-

THE VIGA CANAL. 5£>
tures contrasted strikingly with the vacant faces of the
other monks. His face, which sometimes betrayed
painful dejection, sometimes a fanatical joy, reminded
me at times of the wonderful legends and dismal sto
ries which I had been reading in the convent library.
Was I right in my conjectures about this singular per
sonage ? Despairing of success in my endeavors to
induce the monk to break silence, I resolved to ques
tion Fray Serapio about him ; and, with the hope of
meeting the jolly Franciscan, I directed my steps to
one of the most charming spots in the environs of Mex
ico, the canal of Viga.

CHAPTER II.
The Yitra Canal.

Nowhere in Mexico could there be found a spot
which presents an appearance more different, accord
ing to the seasons of the year, than the Viga Canal.
No place is by turns more solitary or more crowded,
more noisy or more silent. This canal, about twenty-
four miles long, mixes its waters with the lake on
which Chalco stands, and forms a means of transport
and communication between that town and Mexico.
A broad open road, planted with aspens and poplars,
runs along its sleeping waters. If the pedestrian did
not observe, at some distance from the highway, the
buildings which inclose the bull-ring, and, farther off,
the towers of the Cathedral, above which shoot up the
two mighty volcanoes of Mexico, he might fancy him
self three hundred miles from the city. Some coun
try houses, whose inhabitants are always invisible ;

56 EASTER FETES.
the deserted paths of the Candelaria, a rival road to
the Viga ; lakelets scattered here and there in the midst
of teeming vegetation, on whose surface float chinam-
pas* looking like large baskets ; a solitary vaquero
hut here and there in the plain ; then a range of hills
overtopped by the sierra, form the principal features in
the landscape. A placid stillness reigns over every
part of the picture. Sometimes a pirogue is seen
gliding noiselessly on the canal, sometimes a group of
Indians kneeling in some grove before a Christ that
they are decking with flowers, at whose feet they are
piously depositing oranges and grenadilles, offerings
which savor strongly of paganism. The flapping of
the wings of an aigret hovering over the water, or that
is losing itself in the blue sky, and the baying of some
dogs prowling about, are the only sounds which break
the stillness on this shady road. But at the approach
of the Easter fetes the road assumes quite a different
appearance. Every Sunday in Lent, the entire popu
lation of Mexico assembles here, and a noisy crowd
streams along the way. The day on which I went to
the canal was the last Sunday in Lent. On reaching
the road, I found the habitual promenaders of the Pa
seo and Alameda crowding every spot of the ground
in the Viga ; but it was not the crowd which chiefly
attracted me, it was the canal itself. On that day, the
reeds on the bank, ordinarily so still, waved and jos
tled to and fro under the continual motion of the wa
ter, produced by the passing and repassing of num
berless fleets of boats. Launches, canoes, pirogues,
were constantly coming and going ; some conveying
to Mexico, for the Holy Week, immense quantities of
flowers, which diffused a most delightful odor around.
* Floating islands.

ASPECT OF THE CANAL. 57
Other boats followed, crowded with light-hearted, mer
ry passengers, wearing wreaths of wild poppy and
sweet pea, and dancing on the deck to the inspiring
strains of harps, flutes, and mandolins. Light-hearted
Cyprians, in gamesome mood, scattered upon the breeze
the purple buds of their wreaths, and trolled out cho
ruses of lascivious songs. The clear sky, the dazzling
brilliancy of the different costumes, and the soft, sweet
melody of the language, brought to my mind the na
tional festivals of ancient Greece ; while the canal,
which seemed at times suddenly transformed into a
carpet of flowers, generally had the appearance of a
moving mass of canoes, which shot past one another
in all directions ; groups of people, lying lazily on the
bank, bantered the boatmen as they passed. Farther
off, under the green arcades formed by the aspens upon
the road, which shook under the roll of carriages and
gallop of horses, paraded the gay fashionables of Mex
ico. Parties of high-spirited, wild-looking cavaliers,
dressed in the national costume, sauntered up and
down amid this gay throng as if protesting by their
rough manners against the whimsical appearance of
the dandies habited in French style.
A striking contrast was observable to the spectator.
Upon the canal one saw America in the sixteenth
century, which, under the beaming sun of the tropics,
had abandoned herself without constraint to pleasure.
Upon the road was America in the nineteenth century,
seeking to model its native appearance on the worn-
out type of Europe. By way of compensation, a few
Europeans, habited in the ancient Mexican costume,
at times appeared on the Viga ; but beneath their
dress you could distinguish at a glance the English
man, the Frenchman, or the German. I must say,
C 2

58 I MEET WITH FRIENDS.
however, that our compatriots of the South were dis
tinguished above all the other foreigners for the ease
and grace with which they wore the national costume.
Evening was drawing on, darkness was coming down
over the surrounding country, and the moving picture
before me was rapidly dissolving, when I perceived
four horsemen seemingly making their way toward me.
I could not at first distinguish their features, their
faces being partly concealed by the wide-spreading
sombreros, trimmed with broad ribbons, which they
wore ; but their appearance caused me to suspect them.
These men, dressed in mangas and sarapes, seemed
to be hemming me in with the intention of opposing
my passage. They immediately spurred their horses
and galloped up to me. " Stand!" cried a threaten
ing voice ; and, at the same moment, the four horse
men surrounded me. They were neither robbers nor
alguazils, but men whose amiable character and joy
ous temperament I often had occasion to appreciate.
In one I recognized Don Diego Mercado, student of
theology in the college of St. John de Lateran ; in an
other, the officer Don Bias ; the third was the hidalgo,
Don Romulo D  F  , a political marplot, who
could never be satisfied with the government of the
day, but was always looking about for an opportunity
to overturn it, who was admitted, notwithstanding this
weakness, into the highest society in Mexico ; the
fourth was one whom I would have least expected to
find in a company like the present, and in such a dis
guise : it was no other, in truth, than my worthy friend,
Fray Serapio.
"Do I really see the Reverend Fray Serapio?" I
exclaimed. "Do I really see my friend under this
bandit costume ?"

c

I ACCOMPAX1' MY FE1EXDS. 5i>
"Tut!" said the Franciscan; "I am traveling in
cog. ; I shall tell you why some other time."
"Good," said I to the monk; "I have something
to ask you which interests me as much."
"You are one of ourselves," cried the officer, "and
we are going to conduct you to a place out of Mexico,
where we intend to finish the Holy Week."
" Where is it ?" I inquired.
"You will know when you get there," replied the
hidalgo. " I know you are a lover of adventures :
well, I promise you some, and of a strange enough
kind." This was taking me on my weak side, and I ac
cepted the offer without troubling myself any farther
as to its whereabouts. I was, besides, in full travel
ing costume ; and an excursion by night was, above
all, highly agreeable to me. We alighted, and thread
ed our way through the crowd ; then leaving it, we
struck along the Candelaria road, and, remounting,
pursued a northerly direction. I fell behind the rest
and joined Fray Serapio, and again renewed my in
quiries about his disguise. On our first acquaintance
the monk seemed to my taste too shy and distrustful,
but I soon hit upon a sure way of stripping him of
these unsocial qualities. I feigned to make the Chris
tian virtues of my venerable friend the theme of my
warm admiration ; and Serapio, who had the high am
bition, a singular one in a monk, of passing for a rake,
replied to my eulogiums by some revelations about the
old monk which did not redound greatly to his credit.
At this time, too, the expedient succeeded as it ordi
narily did. The Franciscan assured me, with a con
trite air, that he had put on this disguise by the will
of God !

GO SERAPIO'S PIETY.  MOONLIGHT SCENE.
"As you always do," I rejoined, gravely; "you
obey him implicitly, like a humble servant."
The monk bowed and quickened his horse's pace.
"It has pleased God," replied he, "to deprive his
servant of his robes for the purpose of saving the soul
of a Christian who is about to quit this world."
" St. Martin gave to the poor only a half of his cloak.
What was his charity in comparison with yours ?"
The Franciscan shrugged his shoulders.
"Alas!" he muttered, "it is a rich man who has
my gown, and I don't deserve to be compared to St.
Martin." " I am well aware that the most noble virtues are
often modestly hidden from the world."
Wearied with my bantering, the monk dropped the
mask entirely.
"Faith!" he replied, in a frank, open tone, "pietistic
people prefer being interred in a monkish habit ; and,
the more threadbare the garment, the higher they value
it. My gown, on this account, is of an inestimable
value. I sold it a short time ago for double its orig
inal cost; and, besides the profit, from the sale of it, I
got a present of this costume which I am now wear-
ing." The sun had now set ; and the moon, which was
rising, diffused its beams over the solitary country.
Arrived at the crest of a small eminence, I looked back
upon the canals and the plains of the Viga, which, un
der the brilliant night of the tropics, appeared to me
under quite a new aspect. The moon had lighted up
the lagoons, the canal, and the road. They were all
now silent. The most profound stillness had taken
the place of the stir and hum of the busy crowd ; the
silence was broken only by the distant bellowing of

AN INDIAN VILLAGE. fil
the bulls in the savannas. The fire-flies sparkled in
the high gTass, and the watch-fires of the shepherds
shone here and there in the fields.

CHAPTER III.
An Indian Village.

We had now been for some time on the road, and
the night was getting darker and darker. The moon,
which up to this time had lighted our way, was now
becoming gradually encircled with a halo — a bad omen.
At last it finally disappeared in a dense bank of clouds
on the verge of the horizon. From time to time a yel
lowish sheet of lightning shot through the dark mass,
and brought out, in strong relief, the dense blackness
which enveloped the country around. The instinct of
our horses alone kept us right in the thick darkness.
The barking of dogs announced our approach to some
solitary cabin by the wayside ; sometimes we charged
unwulingly among a herd of pigs which were lying
wallowing in the ruts of the road, and which trotted
off grunting in the darkness. In the midst of this
savage scene, surrounded with the lurid light produced
by the flashes, which were following each other in quick
succession, we looked more hke some country smug
glers out on an expedition than peaceful travelers on
an excursion of pleasure.
We had already passed through the village of Tac-
ubaya, and were struggling onward in the mountain
road which leads to Toluca. I knew nothing of the
road they were leading me. That was of little import
ance, provided we reached our place of destination be-

62 IN THE SADDLE.
fore the bursting of the storm, which announced its ap
proach by distant peals of thunder. We soon arrived
at a rising ground, round the foot of which ran a pine
wood. There a halt was called to breathe our horses.
The clouds of dust we had swallowed rendered some
refreshment necessary. A skin of Valdepenas wine,
which' the officer Don Bias carried at his saddle-bow,
was passed round, and served for a moment to quench
the burning thirst which had begun to torment us. I
profited by this opportunity to renew my inquiries
about our place of destination. The theological stu
dent undertook to satisfy my curiosity.
" I have been invited," said he, "to spend the Eas
ter holidays at the hacienda of a friend of mine, about
a dozen leagues from here ; I thought it no bad thing
to give my friend the honor of receiving a few more
guests, and I am sure you will all be very welcome."
The hidalgo Don Romulo, on his part, was not un
willing to allow, during his absence, the agitation
caused by a very violent pamphlet which he had writ
ten against the government of the republic to subside,
while he was anxious, at the same time, to visit the
ruins of a celebrated convent, the Desierto, which was
on our way. The officer hoped to escape in the De
sierto and the hacienda the importunities of his nu
merous creditors, and was disposed to make himself
happy in every place but where they were. As for
Fray Serapio, he confessed that, having been forced,
as he might call it, to purchase a habit ill suited to a
monk, he had embraced with delight the invitation of
his friend, Don Diego Mercado.
" And yet I got a hundred piastres for my old hab
it," added the Franciscan, gloomily, taking another
pull at the skin of Valdepenas.

A CONFESSION.  A VILLAGE. 63
" That's where your soft-heartedness leads you,"
said I. "You have doubtless flung it away in charity. "
'Mon cher (these were the only French words that
Fray Serapio knew, and he made use of them on all
occasions), know then, once for all, that I don't deserve
your praises. Nature cut me out for a soldier, but
conventionality made me a monk."
The Franciscan confessed, readily enough, that when
he was on the point of buying a new frock, an incon
ceivable distraction made him spend the money on
other things quite useless for a man, and, above all,
for a monk ; things which — (Fray Serapio whispered
the remainder in my ear). The skin of Valdepenas
being now half empty, we resumed our journey. Large
drops of rain began to fall ; the storm was going to
burst over us in all its fury. To push on was our
only resource. Stimulated by a secret instinct, our
horses increased their pace. Sometimes they shyed
or stopped suddenly, terrified at the fantastic forms of
some projecting root, or the sudden growl of the thun
der ; but these annoyances were only temporary, and
we flew over the ground with inconceivable swiftness.
We descried at last, in a plain, a little Indian village,
still more than a league in advance. We covered this
league in a few minutes, and entered the village, sa
luted by a legion of hungry dogs, who snarled and bit
at our horses' heels. Our arrival set every one in mo
tion. Copper-colored faces appeared and disappeared
at the doors of the huts. We were asking ourselves,
in no small consternation, if we must give up all hopes
of finding a shelter in a place where every door seem
ed to be shut against us, when Fray Serapio, catch
ing an Indian by his long hair, forced him to lead us
to a house that did duty for an inn.

64 THE PARLEY.
Scarcely had we stopped before the door of the pre
tended hostelry than a great hulking fellow, one of
the half-breeds so numerous in Mexico, very easily
known by his complexion, opened one of the leaves of
the door, which was secured by the invariable iron
chain. This was the master of the inn, who had come
to parley with us.
" I have neither stables, nor maize, nor straw to
offer your lordships," said the half-breed, in a gruff
tone ; " be so good, then, as to continue your journey."
"Go to the devil," said the officer, "with your
straw, your maize, and your stables ; all we want is a
room fit for Christians and officers. Open, or I will
smash the door to pieces."
To give full force to his threat, Captain Don Bias
struck the door such a furious blow with his sabre,
that the huesped, in a fright, dropped the chain, and,
excusing himself for his obstinacy by the plea that
there were a great number of suspicious characters
abroad, ushered us into an apartment little better than
a stable. "I hope," cried Don Romulo, putting his pocket
handkerchief to his nose, " that we sha'n't be obliged
to pass the night in this cursed hole !"
"You are very squeamish, mon cher," said Fray
Serapio; "the room seems tolerable enough."
In spite of this assertion, we determined to push on
after the storm had passed. We remained, then, stand
ing till we could take the road again, as we wished to
reach the hacienda as quickly as possible, where a
hospitable reception had been promised us. I thought
this halt presented a favorable opportunity for making
some inquiries about the mysterious monk I had met
in the garden of San Francisco. To my first question :

A SUDDEN APPARITION. 65
"I can guess whom you are inquiring about," said
Fray Serapio, shaking his head ; " it is Fray Epig-
menio whom you saw in the arbor in the garden of the
convent, of which you and he are the only visitants.
A trial, to which he was subjected by the Inquisition,
turned the head of the poor soul, and for fifty years his
life has been only one long penance."
" Well, I'll tell you frankly," I rejoined, " I had a
suspicion that some painful mystery was wrapped up
in the life of this man. I counted upon you for its
solution, and it was you I was in search of when chance
brought us together on the Viga."
The monk was about to reply, when an extraordi
nary noise arose in the court-yard of the posada, which
was suddenly lit up by the red glow of torches. Al
most at the same moment a man, whom from his cop
per-colored visage and strange costume we easily knew
to be an Indian, entered, followed by several inhabit
ants of the village, some carrying torches, others bran
dishing knotty clubs, some even with bows, and ar
rows in reed quivers. The Indian who seemed to be
the chief of the party advanced, and told us that, as
our noisy arrival had disturbed the peace of the vil
lage, the alcalde wished to see us without delay.
" And what if we don't want to see the alcalde ?"
said the officer.
" You will then be taken by force," said the Indian,
pointing to his armed escort. This gesture was suffi
cient. It was impossible for us to resist, for the min
isters of Indian justice had very prudently seized our
horses and arms. We looked at one another in no
small dismay. The Indian mansos, who rule their
villages according to the laws of the republic, and
even choose from their brothers of the same race their

66 A RELIGIOUS PROCESSION.
municipal magistracy, behave in the most merciless
manner to all the Mexicans who may have committed
any crimes in the district intrusted to their care. The
worst of all cruelties, the cruelty of weakness, is re
sorted to on such occasions. It was quite useless to
struggle against those sturdy rough alguazils with the
bare legs and long hair. We went quietly enough to
the house of the alcalde.
"Have patience," said Fray Serapio to me, in a
low voice, while going along : " instead of the history
of Fray Epigmenio, which I will tell you at some oth
er time, you will behold a sight which few foreigners
have an opportunity of seeing in Mexico. If I am not
mistaken, we have fallen upon this cursed village at
the very time when the Indians celebrate, in their way,
the fetes of the Holy Week. The house of the alcalde
is one of the ordinary resting-places of their nocturnal
processions." I had often heard of these singular ceremonies, in
which the remains of Indian idolatry are mixed up
with the rites of Catholicism. Just when I was go
ing to reply to Fray Serapio, some melancholy mo
notonous sounds met our ears. The plaintive wail of
the reed flute, called by the Indians chirimia, was
sadly intermingled with the tapping of several drums
struck at regular intervals.
"Three hundred years ago," said Don Diego Mer-
cado to me in a whisper,' " it was to the sound of these
chirimias that the ancestors of these Indians butchered
their human victims at the feet of their idols."
Round a lane, which ran at right angles to the road,
came the procession whose approach was announced
by this funereal music. Engaged during the day in
cultivating their grounds, the Indians devote the night

A RELIGIOUS PROCESSION. 67
to certain religious solemnities. The time thus adds
to the lugubrious effect of their ceremonies. At the
head of the procession, borne by four men, was an im
age of Christ, of a hideously gigantic form, bedabbled
with blood. At the two arms of the cross hung two
Christs of a smaller size ; behind came a disorderly
throng of Indians from the village and its environs,
carrying crosses of all shapes and dimensions. I re
marked that the size of several of the crosses was by
no means in harmony with the height of the person
who carried them ; their dimensions were, in fact, only
regulated by the higher or lower sum paid by the per
son who wished to figure in these processions. The
most splendid images were carried in the van by the
head men of the village ; the poorer inhabitants fol
lowed, and nothing could be imagined more grotesque,
more sadly ludicrous than this motley crowd of tatter
demalions ; some, too poor to purchase Christs, were
carrying little images of the saints ; others, less lucky
still, were forced to hoist on long poles, for want of bet
ter, faded pieces of colored cloth and tawdry tinsel,
while some had even been forced to carry hen-coops.
We bent the knee respectfully as this singular pro
cession slowly wended its way through the streets,
while the odd collection of hideous and incongruous
objects, and the grotesque faces of the men, lighted up
by the dim, ruddy glare of the pine torches, and seen
through the smoke, struck us as being more like some
infernal procession revisiting this earth than a body
of Christians engaged in the celebration of a religious
festival. We arrived at the alcalde's house. The sinister
appearance of this Indian magistrate did not tend to
soothe our apprehensions. Long gray hair, encircling

68 AN INDIAN MAGISTRATE.
a face deeply furrowed with wrinkles, flowed down be
hind to the middle of his back ; his muscular arms
were hardly covered by the sleeves of his sayal (a tu
nic with short sleeves) ; his shrunken, sinewy legs
were only half covered by his flapping trowsers of cal-
zoneras skin. On his feet were leather sandals. In
such a dress this singular personage seated himself,
with an air of comic grandeur, under a sort of canopy
formed by the branches of xocopan (a kind of sweet-
smelling laurel). The red-skin alguazils ranged them
selves behind like a group of stage supernumeraries.
We were now asked, " Who and what are you ?"
This question, delivered in bad Spanish, was put to
Fray Serapio, whom his long beard, jaunty costume,
and free manners had undoubtedly caused the alcalde
to regard as the most suspicious of the party. The
monk hesitated. The alcalde continued :
" When people come with arms to a village, it is to
be presumed they have a right to carry arms. Can
you prove your right ?"
It was, then, to examine us as to our right of carry
ing arms that we had been arrested. The alcalde
thought he had us in a trap, and would have an op
portunity of inflicting upon us, without going beyond
the strict letter of the law, some of those petty insults,
for which opportunities are eagerly seized on, to satis
fy the traditionary hatred of the Indians against the
whites. We understood this perfectly, but we could
not counterplot him. We were all obliged to make
the same reply. We were traveling incognito, and had
no right to carry arms. With the exception of the
monk, who seemed ill at ease in his disguise, we were
eager to tell our names and quality. As it was a
point of the very highest importance to let the Indians

IN A DIFFICULTY. 69
know the powerful protectors we had in Mexico, the
student fancied he was acting prudently when he said
that he was the nephew of the most celebrated apothe
cary in the city. The clerk wrote down the answer,
stopping every now and then to break in pieces little
branches of xocopan. As for the alcalde, he seemed
to triumph at having in his power five of the enemies
of his race. When the student avowed his relation
ship to the Mexican apothecary, the wily Indian did
not consider himself foiled. He seemed lost in
thought ; but suddenly an expression of malignant
joy shot across his features as he hastily put this
question to Don Diego :
"If you are the nephew of an apothecary, you must
know something of botany?"
Don Diego replied in the affirmative, with an air of
perfect satisfaction.
"You must, then, be acquainted with the virtues of
matlalquahuitl P"
The alcalde had intentionally chosen a strange Mex
ican plant very little known, with an Indian name of
the most uncouth sound. When he saw the blank
look that immediately appeared on the countenance of
the student, he guessed that his ruse was successful,
and he rubbed his hands with an air of satisfaction.
You know nothing of botany ; you were trying to cheat
me; you are not the nephew of an apothecary; you
have all a suspicious air about you. I have a right to
detain you, and I'll do it, too. Such was the reason
ing which we saw written on the face of the alcalde,
who looked with a cool air of disdain both on Don
Diego Mercado and on us. At this moment the relig
ious fete, in which the alcalde had to play an import
ant part, luckily created a diversion in our favor by

70 AN INDIAN CHRIST.
putting a stop to this examination. A band of Indians
hurriedly entered the room. They dragged along, or
rather pushed before them, a man crowned with a
wreath of rushes, and draped in a tattered red cloak
which had very probably been used as a muleta* in a
bull-fight. His face and body were quite bespattered
with mud. I looked at this man with astonishment
as a living enigma, when the student, who was better
acquainted with the manners of the Indians than with
the virtues of the matlalquahuitl, said, in a low tone,
"There is nothing in this but a religious joke. They
are going to get up here a dramatic representation of
the Passion. We are no longer in an Indian village,
but in Jerusalem. This fellow with the bespattered
face personates Christ, and the alcalde, confound him !
is Pilate." In fact, we were about to have produced before us
all the scenes of a genuine mystery of the Middle Ages.
The alcalde, seated under his canopy of laurel, having
gravely listened to the calumnious accusations of the
Jews, rose and pronounced in the Indian tongue the
historical sentence of condemnation. Such a storm of
cries and yells greeted the sentence, that the unfortu
nate lepero (for it was one of that class, who, for a few
reals, was personating Christ) seemed to think that the
drama was becoming rather too serious. He cried out
in Spanish,
" Caramba ! I think it would have been better had
I taken the part of the good thief. Senor Alcalde,
don't forget to pay me three reals more for personating
the Divine Redeemer ! "
"You are a fine fellow!" said the alcalde, pushing
the lepero back, who, in violation of all historical truth,
* A red cloth shaken before the bull for the purpose of exciting him.

A MELEE.  THE MAGISTRATE NONPLUSED. 71
took refuge in the tribunal itself. At the same time,
one of the soldiers who surrounded the Christ, more
faithful to his part than the bespattered lepero, struck
him a smart blow on the cheek. The lepero could con
tain himself no longer ; he rapped out a fearful oath,
and struck out right and left at his astonished perse
cutors. There was a general mel^e ; a fierce struggle
arose between the actor, who had completely forgotten
the spirit of his part, and the Indians, who attacked
him with a vigor worthy of the agents of Herod. The
contest was brought to an end by a heroic sacrifice on
the part of the alcalde, who, to overcome the obstinacy
of the lepero, promised him six reals more than he was
originally entitled to. On this condition the fellow
agreed to walk to Calvary in the midst of the Indians.
They dragged him along to the place of execution,
dealing him a more than ordinary allowance of blows.
This business finished, the alcalde returned to us.
He had pronounced the sentence upon the pretended
Christ with an ill-disguised anxiety. When we saw
him conversing with the clerk, I looked somewhat de
jectedly at the monk. To my amazement, a smile
appeared on his lips which set me completely at my
ease. The cause of this sudden change in Fray Sera
pio was soon explained. To avoid the imprisonment
which he saw impending over us, he resolved to appeal
to the religious feelings of the alcalde and his follow
ers, of which they had just given such striking proofs.
Fray Serapio had reasoned justly. Just when the al
calde was rising to pronounce our sentence, the monk
gravely approached the tribunal, snatched off the neck
erchief which encircled his head, and showed the In
dian magistrate his tonsure. This was truly a theat
rical stroke. The man who, scarcely a second before,

72 WE GALLOP OFF.
was affecting to look upon us with such stubborn pride,
threw himself trembling and confused at the feet of the
Franciscan. "Ah! holy father," cried the Indian, " why did you
not discover yourself sooner? Taking every thing into
consideration, one can be an honest man without know
ing the virtues of matlalquahuitl. "
Fray Serapio need not have answered the terrified
Indian. He condescended to confess that, under this
disguise and with this escort, he was traveling to ex
ecute a mission of religious interest ; and the alcalde,
who crossed himself devoutly at every word of the
monk, took good care not to press him with imprudent
questions. An instant after, we marched majestically
out of the cabin into which our entrance had been so
humble and crestfallen. The Indians returned us our
arms and horses. They pressed us in vain to return
to the hostelry where we had been so scurvily wel
comed. We were very ill pleased at the reception
they had given us ; and, in spite of the thunder, which
had again begun to growl, we galloped out of the vil
lage without lending an ear to their entreaties.

CHAPTER IV.
Fray Epigmenio.

Already the Indian village lay a league behind us.
The route we were pursuing was through a ravine, the
road through which could with difficulty be believed
to have been made by the hand of man. We soon
entered a pine forest which ran along a chain of pre
cipitous hills. The darkness, which was rendered

NO PLACE FOR STORY-TELLING. 73
thicker by the interlaced branches of the trees over
head, was so profound that our horses could literally
advance only by the gleam of the vivid flashes of
lightning. Soon the storm increased ; the trunks of
the pines cracked and swayed to and fro in the wind,
and the hollows in the mountains resounded with the
multiplied echoes of terrific thunder-claps. The flash
es now became less and less frequent, and at last, the
intermittent gleams, which had hitherto lightened our
advance, failed us entirely. A deafening thunder-clap
was followed by a torrent of rain. It had now be
come impossible for us either to advance or to regain
the road. Forced to remain immovable like equestri
an statues, we were obliged to shout to one another to
find out our respective positions. I then discovered
that I was very near Fray Serapio. The voices of
our three companions reached us like a distant echo
borne along amid the whistling of the squall. We at
last found ourselves separated from one another, with
out any probable hope of joining each other during
the whole night, each of us being forced to stay where
the darkness had overtaken him, exposed to all the
dangers of the forest.
" Since we are condemned to remain here, as mo
tionless as the statue of Charles IV. in Mexico," said
I to the Franciscan, " don't you think this is a very
good opportunity for telling me the history of your
friend, Fray Epigmenio ?"
' ' Fray Epigmenio ! " cried the monk. ' ' This is not
a story suited either to the time or place. When I
hear the trees groaning like spirits in Purgatory, and
the torrents raging like wild beasts, I have not the
courage to go over a history that is frightful enough
in itself." D

74 OUR PERILOUS POSITION.
A long pause followed. Where are we ?" I at last
asked. "We ought to be only a mile and a half from the
Desierto. We have kept on the right road ; but I
have strong fears that we have got entangled in a ra
vine, from which escape is almost impossible amid this
darkness. In a few hours, should the rain continue,
this ravine will be no longer a road, but a torrent, that
will carry us along on its rushing waters like dead
leaves. God succor our poor souls!" He crossed
himself devoutly.
I had seen too often in America torrents suddenly
swollen by thunder-showers to such a degree as to up
root trees a hundred years old, and carry down rocks,
to doubt for a moment the imminent danger of which
I had been apprised by Fray Serapio. To this dis
heartening reply I had but one answer to make — we
must have a fire, at any price. Unluckily, the monk
had left his flint and steel with the student. I was
not discouraged, however ; and, unwilling to throw
away any chance of extricating ourselves from our dis
agreeable position, I alighted from my horse, took in
one of my hands the reata attached to the neck of the
animal, and with the other tried to guide myself while
holding on to the rocks. I was not long in finding my
progress stopped by a precipitous bluff. I tried the
other side ; always a perpendicular wall of rock.
Forced at last to stop after having unrolled the reata
to its utmost length, I came back step by step to
my horse, and, gathering it up again in my hand, re
mounted. " This ravine is in truth a prison," said I.
" It is not the torrent alone that I fear," replied the
monk. " Even if we escape drowning, we may be

THE STORM AT ITS HEIGHT. 75
burned to death if the trees are set on fire by the light
ning." " Could we not leave our horses here, and try to
gain on foot a place less exposed to danger ?"
" We run a risk of tumbling into some quagmire.
By the way the wind hits my face, I know that this
ravine is of great extent. Let us remain where we
are, and trust to Divine Providence."
I had exhausted all my expedients, and could find
nothing to reply to those last words of Fray Serapio's,
which were uttered in a truly mournful tone. Some
moments passed. The storm was still at its height,
and I could not shut my ears to its wild music. In
the depths of the forests, a wail as of a thousand spir
its came "booming on the wind; torrents raged and
dashed from rock to rock, the pines creaked like the
masts of a vessel caught in a hard gale, and above our
heads the wind whistled strangely among the leaves.
During the temporary lulls of the tempest, we heard
our companions, who, whether from ignorance or a
wish to drown their sense of danger, were shouting
and singing with all their might.
" Don't you think," said I to the monk, "that this
gayety is somewhat out of place ? I have a good mind
to make them sensible of the danger they are running,
to cause them to change their song for the 'De Pro-
fundis.' "
"What good would that do ?" said the monk, gloom
ily. " Would it not be better for them to remain ig
norant of their danger, and let death surprise them in
their joyous thoughtlessness ? At this moment, when
the spirits of darkness are hovering about us, the hu
man voice seems to bring with it an undefinable charm.
I have not yet told you the story of Fray Epigmenio.

76 THE monk's story.
I'll do it now. I would rather hear the sound of my
own voice than the whistling of the wind among the
firs. And now, when I think of it, it was in the con
vent of the Desierto, in the vicinity of this forest, and
exactly at this time of the year, that the most interest
ing occurrence in the life of Fray Epigmenio took
place." " This circumstance," said I, " must add particular
interest to your recital ; but, at such a moment as this,
I hardly feel disposed to listen to you. However, if
you like to tell the story, I — "
" Fray Epigmenio," began the Franciscan, interrupt
ing me, " was, even in his youth, but a melancholy
companion. That is to say, he was not at all like me.
Far from having wished, as I did, to be a soldier be
fore donning the monk's habit, he was, when a mere
boy, admitted as a novice into the Carmelite convent
of the Desierto. At the time I refer to, that is, fifty
years ago, the Desierto was not abandoned as it is now.
It was then a retreat inhabited by several monks, who
wished, by thus withdrawing themselves from the cit
ies, to push austerity to its utmost limits. You may
guess what influence a wild solitude like that would ex
ercise upon a weak brain. For my part, I don't think
I should be long in my right mind were I to live in
such a place. The superiors of the young novice were
soon alarmed at the ferocious exultation that soon took
the place of his former solid piety. They represented
to Epigmenio that the devil, jealous of his merits, was
setting a trap for him, into which he would fall. It
was a wise advice ; but Epigmenio paid no heed to it.
Worse than all, he isolated himself almost entirely
from his brethren, and shut himself up more closelv
than ever in his cell — a sort of dark dungeon, whose

the monk's story. 77
windows opened upon the wood which surrounded the
convent. This was the gloomiest cell in this gloomy
cloister. Fray Epigmenio had chosen it in preference
to those whose windows looked out upon the garden.
The 'sight of the flowers seemed to this rigid cenobite
too much of a worldly pleasure. The heavy masses
of the dark woods, constantly agitated by the wind,
and surrounded by an amphitheatre of rocks in fan
tastic forms, was the kind of landscape which had the
greatest charm for Epigmenio. I told you before that
the soundest head in the world could not long resist
the combined influences of solitude and prayer. The
monk confessed, when too late, that strange visions
passed before his eyes in those long clays of contem
plation and silence. Mysterious voices assailed his
ears, and it was not always the concerts of angels that
he heard : the murmurs of the forest were often changed
into voluptuous sighs and — "
At this moment the Franciscan suddenly paused,
and, turning to me, said, "Are you listening?*'
" I confess," I rejoined, "that I am paying more at
tention to the noise of the water which is now rising
about our feet."
" Fray Epigmenio," said Serapio, without attending
to my remark, "fancied himself a saint, since tempta
tions like these assailed him, and that he was strug
gling against the devil, like the monks in the old le
gends. One day, about sunset, not content to wait
lor the tempter in his cell, he resolved to beard him in
the forest itself, which was peopled with such phan
toms. He had not wandered far among the pines
when he heard the sound of stifled sobbing not far
from him. He stopped and listened, and then ad
vanced in the direction from which the moaning seem-

78 the monk's story.
ed to proceed. For a long time his search was fruit
less. At last, after many turnings and windings, he
arrived at a glade in the wood, in the centre of which
lay, on the turf, a man, who invited him by signs to
approach. Fray Epigmenio hesitated a moment. At
last, having crossed himself devoutly, he falteringly ap
proached the wounded man. ' In God's name,' cried
he, ' of what unfortunate accident are you the victim ?'
The holy name of God appeared to rouse in the stran
ger a painful emotion, and his voice was hardly per
ceptible when he told Epigmenio that, as he was trav
eling with his daughter, he had been set upon by rob
bers, stripped of all he had, and left bleeding on the
ground. He added that it was not for himself that he
was asking assistance, but for the feeble creature by
his side ; and, at the same time, parting the branches
of a bush near which he lay, he showed the monk a
young lady lying in a swoon upon the grass. The
rays of the moon fell full upon her marble countenance
and white dress. You may imagine the confusion
Epigmenio was in when he saw this beautiful female,
who seemed to realize to him the most beautiful vis
ions of his dreams. After a short silence, he repre
sented to the stranger that the convent of the Desierto
was not far off; but, were it nearer, a female could
not be received within its walls. The unknown was
grieved that he could not continue his journey, as his
horse had escaped when the robbers attacked him.
Plucking up his spirits, he declared, as his wound now
gave him less pain, he would like to rise and seek for
his lost steed. They set out together, but soon after
agreed to separate, and — "
A blinding flash of lightning interrupted the monk's
story. The storm was increasing. The muddy wa-

OUR DANGEROUS POSITION. 79
ter had now risen as far as our stirrups. Our horses,
that had stood without motion a long time, now turn
ed and presented their chests to the current, which was
surging up higher and higher every minute. Around
us, in the depth of the woods, the noise of the torrents
was mingled with the wild harmony of the brawling
winds, that seemed to blow from every point of the
compass. "The water is rising," cried Fray Serapio, "and
our horses will soon be utterly powerless against its
force." Almost at the same moment the poor animals turn
ed quickly round, and, whether guided by instinct, or
carried away by the force of the current, they moved
toward the bottom of the ravine. A cry of distress,
wafted to us by the wind, apprised us that the torrent
was also bearing away our companions in misfortune.
A second flash lighted up the forest, and was followed
by a clap of thunder which shook the air. A sulphur
ous odor filled the atmosphere, and immediately, to our
inexpressible satisfaction, a pine, which had been struck
by lightning a few paces from us, blazed up, and soon
illuminated the surrounding objects.
" We are saved !" cried Fray Serapio : " I see near
us a rock low enough for our horses to mount."
Our companions had already escaped from the tor
rent ; they encouraged us by voice and gestures to do
the same. My horse, by a desperate effort, reached
the top of the bank. I had kept close by Fray Sera
pio, whose horse had twice attempted the ascent, and
had twice fallen back ; but the third time, like a true
Mexican, he accomplished it. We were still not out
of all danger. A shelter must be found, as it was now
out of the question to push on to the hacienda.

80 THE DESIERTO.
By the pale light in the sky, which was now com
paratively clear, we could discern a narrow bridle-path
running along the edge of the ravine. This road
doubtless led to the Desierto, the very convent in
which Fray Epigmenio had first taken his vows. We
hurried along this path, certain this time of not miss
ing our way ; and a few minutes after, having escaped
the most imminent peril, our little troop stopped, with
heartfelt satisfaction, before the ruined walls of the an
cient monastery.

CHAPTER V.
The Desierto.

After fastening our horses in the outer court of the
convent, we chose, near the entrance of the building,
the cell which seemed to be most convenient for shel
ter. The first moments of our halt were devoted to
an interchange of reflections, half merry, half serious,
upon the danger we had run. Don Romulo confessed
that he had taken part in seventeen conspiracies ; that
he had been banished, under circumstances of great
aggravation, from three republics — from Peru, Ecua
dor, and Colombia, but that the danger he had just
escaped was the most imminent he had ever experi
enced in his life. As for the monk, the student, and
the officer, they owned frankly enough that, when the
danger appeared most imminent, and they had seemed
callous to it, they were far from feeling so in their
minds. After some more talk of a like kind, our eyes
roamed around the old monastery to which chance had
directed us for shelter.

THE OLD MONASTERY. 81
Situated in the midst of a tract of country which re
minds one of the Grande Chartreuse of Grenoble, the
convent of the Desierto is, to all outward appearance,
far from being in a ruinous- condition. Its cupolas and
spires still shoot as high as ever above the pines which
surround it ; and although half a century has rolled
away since the monks quitted it, ivy has not yet en
tirely covered the embrasures of its deserted cells.
The green moss which grows upon its walls shows
only the want of repair and the ravages of time. You
must pass through the first quadrangle, which is still
in good preservation, so as to reach the interior of the
convent, before seeing the spectacle of melancholy and
desolation which there meets your eye. The dilapi
dated cupolas admit the daylight through large chinks,
the pilasters in the cloisters are crumbling away, large
stones have been forced from their sockets, heaps of
ruins block up the choir and the nave of the chapel,
and a thick mantle of pellitories covers the rubbish.
The vapors which hang in a dense curtain round the
summit of the mountain, at the foot of which the con
vent is built, fall in fine rain on the bare stones, and
cover every thing with an icy moisture. Above the
high altar, through one of the numerous fissures in the
dome, the condensed vapor escapes, and falls drop by
drop with the regularity of a water-clock, as if to mark
the flight of time, and to relieve, by the light noise it
makes on the marble, the melancholy silence which
reigns in this dreary solitude. Such is the convent
of the Desierto, seen by the light of day and under a
clear sky. Let any one fancy its appearance at the
time we sought refuge within its walls, when the storm,
which had lasted since twilight, was scarcely over.
Imagine the beams of the moon, fitfully streaming
D 2

S2 THE MONASTERY BY MOONLIGHT.
through its deserted arches, and the wind whistling in
the empty nave, in its organ loft, in its solitary cells,
and he will have some idea of the shelter in which we
spent the remainder of the night.
We stood shivering in our wet clothes, and our first
business was to seek materials for a fire. We took
each a different part of the convent. The quarter in
which I was engaged happened to be the most ruin
ous in the whole building. The remembrance of the
old monk of St. Francis often came into my mind ;
and, in passing along the deserted galleries, I could
not help fancying I saw him flitting through the
gloomy arches. Around me the pillars stretched
their great shadows upon the ground, whitened by
the moonbeams. A stillness, as of the grave, rested
every where. The ivy curtains alone shook in the
wind. From the cloister I entered a vast ' corridor.
Through the large chinks in the vaulted roof above
the moonbeams stealthily penetrated. In the dis
tance I thought I observed a red glow on the flag
stones playing amid the surrounding whiteness, and
imagined I heard the snort of a horse which did not
seem to proceed from the court where we had fastened
our steeds. At the same instant my companions call
ed me ; I eagerly joined them. They had collected
some brushwood, as they could find nothing better.
The officer, Don Bias, affirmed that he had seen, by
the light of the moon, in a distant court, a horse which
was not one of ours. The student pretended he had
met the ghost of one of the monks who had been bur
ied in the convent. A short silence succeeded. Don
Romulo was the first to break it.
" Here is a charming variety of horrors ; the horse

A NIGHT IN THE MONASTERY. 83
of a bandit ; the ghost of a monk ; spectres and male
factors!" We tried to induce Fray Serapio to pronounce the
classical formula of exorcism in his formidable Latin,
but the monk replied tartly,
" My Latin won't drive away the spectre you talk
of; it will rather attract it. God grant it may not
appear ! Be assured this is no freak of the imagina
tion. The phantom seen by Senor Don Bias is a re
ality. It is my superior, the Reverend Father Epig
menio, who comes here every year, at the return of the
Holy Week, to fulfill a penitential vow imposed on
him for some sins of his youth. If he recognize me,
how can I justify my present disguise and foolish ex
cursion ?"
The Franciscan's reply set us completely at our
ease, and we sympathized very little in his anxiety.
Wishing, however, to have no meeting between the
two, we resolved to light our fire in a cell in a retired
part of the convent, and to stretch ourselves on our
wet cloaks round it. The student, the officer, and the
hidalgo were soon sound asleep ; the monk and I re
mained awake. Fray Serapio, on the watch to catch
the slightest noise, trembled all over at the thought
of being surprised by his superior, while my mind was
filled with the story of Fray Epigmenio, so unfortu
nately interrupted. Seeing the Franciscan was not
inclined to sleep, I pressed him to finish it. My com
panion, who could not shut an eye, was overjoyed at
finding this means of whiling away the time. He
consented with a very good grace, and crept more
closely to the fire.
" I left," said he, " Fray Epigmenio at the moment
when chance had delivered to his care a female in a

84 THE MONK'S STORY CONTINUED.
swoon. His first impulse was to run away ; his sec
ond was to remain, and he remained. He ceased even
to shout for the wounded horseman, whose return he
did not now particularly desire ; and when the young
lady, coming out of her faint, opened her languid eyes,
the reverend father lost his senses entirely. If at this
moment the stranger had appeared, the monk would
have strangled him, for you have doubtless guessed by
this time that the stranger in black was no other than
the devil!"
To this unexpected assertion my only reply was a
shake of the head. Fray Serapio, believing I agreed
with him, continued :
"Fray Epigmenio yielded to temptation. He fell
deeply, madly in love. For a time his vows were for
gotten, but the prickings of conscience at last aroused
him, and he resolved to confess his fault. He was
taken before the tribunal of the Inquisition.* Till the
final judgment was pronounced, they were both kept
in confinement, the monk in his cell, the female in a
dungeon. Some weeks passed in miserable anticipa
tion. One evening, the cell of Fray Epigmenio was
the theatre of a scene, in which the intervention of the
devil was as clearly seen as in the meeting in the for
est. Kneeling before his crucifix, the monk was ask
ing from God that peace which his soul had lost. All
at once he was startled by a footfall in his cell. A
man stood before him, who regarded him with a stern,
watchful eye. This man was no other than the stran
ger who had appeared to the recluse a month before
in the wood ; his dress was the same, and he appeared
still paler than on the night in which the monk had
* Suppressed in Mexico in 1810. The old palace of the Inquisition,
situated n the street St. Domingo, is now used as a custom-house.

THE MONK S STORY CONCLUDED. 85
found him bathed in blood. Fray Epigmenio stepped
back, but the stranger did not stir. The formula of
exorcism, hastily stammered out, had no effect upon
him. The monk then called for help, but it was too
late. When they entered the cell the stranger had
disappeared. Epigmenio, bleeding from a dagger
thrust, lay in a swoon before his folding-stool, and
you could see the impress of the villain's bloody fin
gers. Time has not effaced these marks ; they are
still there."
" I can guess the conclusion of your story," said I
to Fray Serapio ; " the female was condemned as a
sorceress, and the monk was acquitted."
" The female," said Serapio, " confessed on the rack
that she had been in league with the devil, and was
condemned to expiate the crime by a public act; but
she did not undergo that punishment. Her keepers
found her one morning lying dead on the floor of her
dungeon, strangled with the beautiful black tresses
which had proved so fatal to Fray Epigmenio. As
for the monk, his wound was slight ; it soon healed.
Condemned to five years menial servitude in the con
vent of St. Francis, he was made the convent garden
er. Almost at the same period the Inquisition ceased
to exist, and the convent of the Desierto was aban
doned as unhealthy. The visit which Fray Epigme
nio makes at the same time every year to this ruined
building is the only memorial of this event."
Fray Serapio paused. I was weary for want of
sleep ; he seemed also ready to drop with fatigue, and
I forbore troubling him with any remarks on the story
I had just heard. I had already lain down by the
side of my companions, who were all fast asleep. Sud
denly the Franciscan shook me by the arm, and in-

86 EXPLANATION OF THE STORY.
vited me precipitately to follow him. I rose and ac
companied him to a window which commanded a view
of the inner courts of the convent, which were still
bathed in the silvery light of the moon. The monk,
whose stern and forbidding countenance had awakened
my attention in the garden of St. Francis, was at this
moment traversing one of the courts. We remarked
that his steps were more tottering, and his body more
bent than usual. When he disappeared, "Follow
me," said Fray Serapio, "to the cell which was his,
which he has just quitted." We soon arrived at the
cell, but nothing distinguished it from the others. The
walls were quite bare ; the wind whistled through the
parasitical plants which clung to the disjointed stones.
A pine torch, stuck into an interstice of the wall, was
just expiring. Fray Serapio fanned the dying flame,
and, with all the obstinacy of a conscientious cicerone,
he pretended to point out upon the wall the traces of
the five fingers of the unknown who had stabbed the
monk in his prison. I did not tell Serapio that the
black stains on the wall had been produced by damp,
and not by the hand of Satan. I seized, however,
this opportunity of informing the worthy monk that
the story of his unfortunate superior could be perfect
ly well explained without the intervention of the devil.
The superiors of Fray Epigmenio, jealous of his rigid
virtue, had probably set the trap into which he had
fallen. They had found an adroit monk and a female
willing to work through their plans, and the brutal
fanaticism of the monk had unhappily spoiled every
thing. The Inquisition had got wind of the matter.
The farce was then turned into a tragedy. The
vengeance of the father, who repented the selling of
his child, her unhappy end, and the blighted, melan-

VISITS TO THE CONVENT RESUMED. 87
choly life which Fray Epigmenio had been afterward
doomed to lead, were the unhappy consequences of the
shameful intrigue hatched in the very convent in which
we now were. Such was my commentary on Fray
Serapio's story ; but he, with an obstinacy only equal
ed by his credulity, held fast by his own interpretation.
Next morning we arrived at the hacienda of the
friend of Don Diego Mercado, where the cordial recep
tion we experienced soon made us forget the dangers
and sufferings of the previous night.
On my return to Mexico I resumed my visits to the
convent of St. Francis, and I read with more interest
than ever the narratives preserved in these valuable
archives, for I had now a thorough conviction that the
old Spanish fanaticism, of which there were many in
stances in these documents, had still firm root in the
minds of the people of Mexico. There is a close con
nection between the past and present race of the in
habitants of the cloisters, which the frivolous manners
of the monks, as seen by me in the streets of Mexico,
had not led me to suspect. The Inquisition has pass
ed away, but it has left in the clergy a well-defined
outline, a singularly deep-rooted tradition of demorali
zation, superstitious ignorance, and fanaticism.
Every time I went to the convent of St. Francis I
met Fray Epigmenio, sometimes in the cloisters, some
times sunk in reverie in the arbor. One day, howev
er, I traversed the whole convent in search of him, but
in vain. Just as I was quitting it I met Fray Sera
pio. The presence of the Franciscan in his convent
was so very rare an occurrence, that I could not help
inquiring why he had condescended so far as to break
through his usual habits.
"It is a pity," cried Fray Serapio, "but don't ask

88 LIBERTINISM AND CREDULITY.
me why. Fray Epigmenio has just breathed his last.
A lingering fever hung about him a long time ; he died
this morning, and the duty of watching the corpse of
the reverend father has been assigned to me. Could
any one have played me a more scurvy trick?"
" I don't understand you," I replied. " You sure
ly don't mean poor Fray Epigmenio ?"
"Who then, if it isn't he? Do you know what
this duty makes me lose? A charming assignation,
mon cher." And, as a commentary on these words,
there darted from his eyes an expressive glance which
told more than he said. I had not the heart to re
proach the monk for his heartless talk, uttered, too,
in such a cavalier tone. At this moment the first
strokes of the passing-bell interrupted our conversation.
"Good-by!" said Fray Serapio; "the bell calls me
to my post." I shook him by the hand, and, on re
tiring, could not help reflecting on the singular con
trast which these two men presented, inhabitants of
the same convent, both under the same rules, both re
gardless of the sanctity of their mission ; the one unit
ing libertinism with credulity, the other pushing piety
to fanaticism, till it degenerated into cruelty. This
contrast, I said sadly to myself, is a faithful picture
of Mexican life. Who can tell how many unhappy
wretches there are, in the numerous convents in Mex
ico, who have commenced with the first and ended with
the second ?
Among the persons who have figured in this narra
tive, one only succeeded in securing a peaceful life aft
er a youth of stirring adventure : this was the student
Don Diego Mercado, who, belonging to a rich family in
Mexico, had always looked to the future without un
easiness. As for Don Bias, he met his death in a pet-

WHAT BECAME OF MY FELLOW-TRAVELERS. 89
ty encounter with some robbers on the high road. Don
Romulo's lot was at once more brilliant and more va
ried. After having, as I said before, taken part in
seventeen conspiracies, and been banished from three
republics, Don Romulo, after engaging in another po
litical intrigue, was forced to quit Mexico in the same
way as he had left Peru, Colombia, and Ecuador. On
returning to the last-mentioned state, in which he had
been born, he was raised to the presidency ; and this
time, being at the head of affairs in his own country,
one would think he ought to have renounced his rev
olutionary principles. We do not know, however, if
his conversion was sincere. There are some political
agitators whom the attainment of supreme power can
not correct, and who still prefer the precarious advant
ages gained by intrigue to the pleasures of unlimited
authority.

Wan (Eako (Eratobal, tlje <£h.ux)£s' Catuner
of Mtxko.

There is an old document in the National Library
of Paris which has hardly ever been consulted, I dare
say, since the day on which it was placed on the dusty
shelves of the manuscript room. It is an essay on
the idioms of the Indian tribes of the New World,
written toward the end of the sixteenth century, by
Fray Alonzo Urbano, a monk of the order of St. Au
gustin. The chain of circumstances which was the
means of bringing this curious document from Mexico
to Paris is perhaps known only to myself, and that for
an excellent reason. It was I who carried thither the
unknown work of the monk of St. Augustin. The per
son from whom I obtained it is very likely dead. Be
that as it may, the way in which I got possession of
this manuscript will never be effaced from my mem
ory ; and the essay of Fray Urbano, although I am
no judge of its philological merits, has still a great in
terest in my eyes. It brings to mind the intercourse
I once had with one of the strangest personages that I
ever had the good fortune to meet in Mexico. That
intercourse was very short, but the recital will enable
one easily to understand the deep impression it left
upon me. I do not require to add that this story,
though it appear romantic, is strictly true. In Mex
ico, you must remember, romance is ingrained in the

THE THIEVES' LAWYER. 91
manners of the people, and he who would faithfully
picture these exceptionable manners would be set down
as a somewhat unscrupulous story-teller, when he is,
in fact, only a simple historian.

CHAPTER I.
The Public Scribe.— Pepito Rechifla.— The China.— The Callejon del
Arco.
At the commencement of the year 1835 I happened
to be in Mexico, engaged in the prosecution of a troub
lesome piece of business. This concerned the some
what problematical recovery of a very considerable sum
of money due me by an individual of whom I could
not find the slightest trace. The business demanded
the most energetic measures, and I addressed myself,
in consequence, to several lawyers, well known for
their success in dealing with such difficult cases. They
all at first promised their assistance, but when I men
tioned my debtor's name (he was called Don Dionisio
Peralta), one and all of them excused themselves from
having any share in the business. One said he could
never pardon himself if he gave the slightest cause of
uneasiness to so gallant a man as Seiior Peralta ; a
second, that he was attached to him by a compadraz-
go* of long standing; a third suddenly remembered
that he had been a bosom friend of his in his youth.
A fourth, more communicative than the others, enlight
ened me as to the cause of such friendly scruples ;
these gentlemen had the fear of a dagger before their
eyes, a mode of procedure- of which Senor Peralta had
* Lit., a compaternity.

92 THE merchants' arcades.
availed himself more than once, to shake himself free
of creditors who had been too pressing. "I don't
know," he added, " a single person who will undertake
your business, if the licentiate Don Tadeo Cristobal
refuse : he has a heart of rock and a hand of iron ; he
is the man for you." I ran immediately to the Calle
de los Batanes, where I was told he lived ; but anoth
er check awaited me there. Don Tadeo had quitted
that place, and no one could tell me his present abode.
Wearied and dejected in the evening, after a whole
day spent in running up and down . to no purpose, I
was walking listlessly to and fro in the Merchants'
Arcades {Portales de los Mercadores), which stands
on the grand square of Mexico. Despairing of suc
cess, I resolved to ask for some information about Don
Tadeo from some of the numerous public writers, whose
stalls under the gallery are so many public intelligence
offices ; but, once there, I completely forgot the motive
which had brought me into this kind of bazar, the
daily resort of all the idlers of Mexico, and my atten
tion was completely distracted by the animated picture
which was unrolled before my eyes. The spectator
will be less astonished at this if he figure to himself
the almost magical appearance the Plaza Mayor pre
sents an hour before sunset. The Portales de los
Mercadores occupy, in fact, almost one complete side
of this immense square. The Cathedral, the Ayunta
miento, and the President's palace form, as the reader
already knows, the other three sides. The most beau
tiful streets in Mexico debouch between those build
ings ; there is the street Primeria Monterilla, crowded
with elegant shops ; another, called los Plateros (the
street of the goldsmiths), whose shops are almost ex
clusively occupied by jewelers or lapidaries, while the

THEIR PICTURESQUE APPEARANCE. 93
petty Mexican merchant seems to have chosen, for the
display of European commodities, the dark arcades of
the los Mercadores. At the time of my stay in Mex
ico, French innovation had not yet ventured to alter
the picturesque appearance of these arcades, which, in
their general aspect, bore a remarkable resemblance to
the Piliers des Halles in Paris. The heavy arches are
supported on one side by vast warehouses, on the oth
er by pillars, at the foot of which are ranged shops
(alacenas) well stocked with religious books, rosaries,
daggers, and spurs. Close by these shops, as if to
represent all the grades of trafficking, leperos, in rags,
hawk about articles of glassware, and, sticking one of
them on the tip of their finger, they search for custom
ers with great eagerness. Every now and then the
venders of wild duck ragouts, or tamales* seated in
the shade of the arches, strike in, amid the din of the
crowd, with their well-known cry,| Aqui hay poto
grande, mi alma ; senorito venga steel, or that as
popular but shorter call, Tamales% queretanos. The
passers-by and purchasers are as worthy of observa
tion as the sellers. The ever-varying color of gowns
and tapalos,% the gold of the mangas, and the motley
color of the serapes, form, under the dim, hazy light
which prevail in the pilastera, a brilliant mixture of
different colors, which reminds one strongly of the
most fantastical Venetian masquerades. In the even
ing, when the stalls and shops are closed, the Mer
chants' Arcades become a kind of political club. Seat
ed on the threshold of the gates, or striding along in
* A kind of meat pudding, strongly seasoned with pimenta.
t Here's your fine duck, my jewel ; come, buy, my young master.
t Tamales, made in Queretaro, a town about forty leagues from
Mexico. () A shawl, which is sometimes used as a head-dress.

94 THE EVANGELIST.
this kind of cloister, officers and townsmen talk about
-revolutions that have been effected, or are to be effect
ed, till the time when the almost deserted galleries
serve only as a retreat for lovers, and their low whis
pers is all that is heard beneath the silent arcades.
I had now sauntered for a long time in the Mer
chants' Arcades, when the sight of a writer's stall re
minded me of my business there. Among the work
ing population of the Portales, the public writers form
a considerable portion of the community. You must
remember that in Mexico primary instruction is not at
all general, and that the office of a public writer,
among this illiterate population, has lost nothing of
its primitive importance. The tractable pen of the
evangelists (that is the name they bear) is required for
a thousand commissions, more or less delicate, and
often of the most equivocal character — from the venal
love-letter down to the note sent by a bravo to lure
his intended victim to some secret ambuscade. The
evangelist whom I had remarked among the rest of his
tribe was a little squat fellow, his head almost bald,
scarcely encircled with a few gray hairs. What prin
cipally drew my attention to this man was an expres
sion of sardonic joviality which shone in his otherwise
insignificant face. I was just about to make some in
quiries of him about Don Tadeo, when an incident made
me suddenly pause, and continue to look on in silence.
A young girl came to the stall of the evangelist. The
long wavy hair, which escaped in plaits from her open
rebozo, her complexion of a slight umber tint, the brown
shoulders that her chemise of fine linen, fringed with
lace, left almost bare, her slender figure, which had
never been deformed by stays, and, above all, the three
short petticoats of different colors, which fell in straight

TIO LUQUILLAS AND THE CHINA. 95
folds over her pliant haunches, all pointed out the
young woman as a genuine specimen of the China.*
" Tio Luquillas," said the maiden.
" What is it ?" replied the evangelist.
" I need your assistance."
" I don't doubt that, since you come to me," replied
Tio ; and, fancying he had divined the message she
was going to send, he began complaisantly to fold a
sheet of rose-tinted vellum paper, highly glazed, and
embossed with cupids. But she made a gesture of
impatience with her little brown hand.
"What," said she, "would a man, who is almost
breathing his last, care for your rose-tinted billet-
doux?" " The devil !" said the scribe, in a passionless tone,
while the girl wiped her streaming eyes with one of
her long plaits: "is it a farewell epistle, then?"
A sob was the only reply ; then, stooping to the
scribe's ear, she forced herself to dictate a short letter,
not without frequent pauses to take breath and to wipe
away her tears. The contrast between the unsuscepti
ble old man and the passionate girl appeared to me
most striking. I was not the only observer ; every
one who passed the booth of Tio Luquillas could not
help casting a glance of pity, not unmingled with cu
riosity, upon the young China. The evangelist was
about to fold the letter, but had not yet written the
address, when a passer-by, bolder and more curious
than the rest, came unceremoniously to have some con
versation with the old man. The new-comer's fea
tures were not unknown to me, and I remembered
that he had, when standing next me at a bull-fight a
* A China is, in Mexico,"what the manola is in Madrid, and the
grisette in Paris.

96 AN ACQUAINTANCE. — AN ASSASSINATION.
few days before, dilated, in the most attractive manner,
on a sport which I passionately loved. The time did
not seem to me suitable for making any inquiry of the
evangelist, and I thought it best not to approach the
three. I consequently remained a few paces from the
booth, waiting patiently till the visitor would take his
departure. The man, with whom an hour or two's
chat had made me acquainted, had inspired me with a
certain degree of interest. He was about forty years
of age. His features were marked with a certain kind
of nobility, in spite of a sarcastic expression which he
sometimes threw into them. Although I might have
forgotten we had ever met, the odd costume in which
he was habited stamped him on my recollection. At
the bull-fight he wore a wide-flowing blue cloak, lined
with red, and on his head an enormous sombrero of
yellow vicuna cloth, trimmed with gold lace.
" For whom is the letter, my dear ?" he asked of the
China, somewhat authoritatively.
The girl pointed to the prison of the presidential
palace, and muttered a name which I .did not catch.
" Ah ! for Pepito ?" said the unknown, aloud.
" Alas ! yes ; and I don't know how to get it con
veyed to him," replied the girl.
" Well, never despair. Here's an opportunity that
Heaven sends you."
At this moment the people hastily left the galleries,
and scattered themselves hastily upon the Plaza May
or. What motive had they for leaving ? The com
mission of a deed but too common in Mexico ; an as
sassination had been perpetrated on the public street.
They had seized the murderer, raised the victim, and
the melancholy cortege was on its way to the nearest
prison. This place of confinement happened to be pre-

THE BLOODY PROCESSION. 97
cisely that in which the lover of the young girl was
imprisoned, and I could easily comprehend the tenor
of the words of hope which my new acquaintance had
addressed to the China.
The procession, which was now making its way
across the square, had partly a comical, partly a mourn
ful appearance, with an originality in its arrangement
truly Mexican. A cargardor (porter) marched in front,
bearing on his shoulders, by means of a leathern belt
passed round his forehead (as all Mexican porters do),
a chair, upon which was strapped a man, or rather a
corpse, wrapped in a bloody sheet. The assassin,
guarded by four soldiers, followed closely behind.
Some gaping idlers, and a few friends of the dead man,
who seemed to be making a sorry attempt to appear
sad, closed the procession. Of all the individuals of
which that crowd was composed, the man most at his
ease was the criminal himself, who, with a cigar in his
mouth, marched along with perfect coolness, address
ing himself every now and then to the bloody corpse,
which, to his great surprise, uttered not a word in re
ply. " Come, now," said he, "none of your waggish
tricks, Panchito ; you know quite well that I can't
make your wife any allowance. You are shamming
death well; but I am not to be done in that style."
But Panchito was quite dead, let the assassin say
what he might, and I could feel a cold shudder creep
over me when the hideous corpse was borne close past
me. Its eyes (for the sheet did not cover the face),
with a stony glitter, stared at the sun with immovable
fixity. The bull-fight amateur, who was doubtless
more accustomed to such sights, walked right up to
the procession, stopped it, and holding the letter of the
China out to the murderer, E

98 A MESSENGER FOUND.
"Pay attention!" said he. "Have you not some
acquaintance with the illustrious Pepito Rechifla — he
who is to be garroted to-morrow ?"
" Of course ; I am a chum of his."
" Well, as you will, in all probability, not be exe
cuted before him, you will see him just now in the
prison. Give him this letter from me."
" Ah ! Senor Cavalier," said the Mexican girl, sud
denly, who, with face bathed in tears, and a palpitat
ing bosom, made her way through the crowd, threw
herself at the murderer's feet, and seizing the corner
of his cloak, after the ancient fashion, said, " By the
blood of Christ, and the merits of the Virgin in her
seven sorrows, do not forget to give him this letter,
which contains my last farewell ! I am so unhappy
at not being able to see him !"
"Yes, Linda mia, I will," replied the murderer,
carrying his hand to his eyes, and trying to give his
voice a pathetic tone. " I have as feeling a heart as
you ; and had not this d — d Panchito been always
thwarting me, I should not have been here, I swear ;
but keep up your spirits, preciosita de mi alma.''''
A piece of money which the sporting character threw
to the prisoner cut short his eloquent speech ; the sol
diers surrounded him, and they resumed their march
to the prison. The procession soon disappeared round
a corner of the Ayuntamiento, while some women,
with a delicacy peculiar to Mexican females, surround
ed the young China, but were unable to persuade her
to go home. In a short time, in spite of all their en
treaties, I saw her walk to the prison, seat herself at
the foot of its dark wall, and, veiling her face with her
rebozo, remain there immovable. My friend of the
bull-fights was lost in the crowd, and I had now a fit-

I MISS DON TADEO. 99
ting opportunity for consulting the evangelist. I step
ped up to the old man, and tapped him gently on the
shoulder. "Can you tell me," said I, "where the licentiate
Don Tadeo Cristobal lives ?"
" Don Tadeo Cristobal, do you say ? He was here
a minute ago."
" Was Don Tadeo here ?"
" Did you not see how obligingly he caused a mes
sage to be delivered to the bandit Pepito Rechifla, that
one of the prettiest Chinas in Mexico dictated to me ?"
" What ! was that man in the sombrero and red
cloak Don Tadeo the licentiate ?"
" It was."
" And where shall I find him now ?"
" I do not know ; for, to say the truth, he has no
settled abode, but lives a little every where. If, how
ever, you wish to consult him on urgent business, go
this very evening, between the hours of nine and
twelve o'clock, to the Callejon del Arco (blind alley
of the arcade) ; you are sure to find him in the last
house on the right as you pass the square."
I thanked the scribe, and, after giving him a few
reals for his trouble, directed my steps to the Callejon
del Arco. Although it was scarcely seven o'clock in
the evening, I went to try to find out, before nightfall,
the house which I intended to visit two hours after
ward. Experience had taught me that such precau
tions were not useless in Mexico ; besides, the Calle
jon del Arco had long been notorious as one of the
most dangerous places in the Mexican capital.
The appearance of the alley justified but too well
the reputation which it had acquired. The dense mass
of houses, of which the Merchants' Arcades form a

100 THE "TOM ALL ALONES" OF MEXICO.
part, known by the name of the Impedradillo, does
not form one compact cuadra. On the southwest side
of the Cathedral, a narrow lane runs into the Impe
dradillo ; this is the Callejon del Arco. It is like one
of those caverns which the sea sometimes hollows out
in the face of a cliff. When still blinded by the over
powering rays of the sun with which the square is
flooded, and which beat in all their intensity on the
white walls and granite pavement, the eye, at first daz
zled by the glare, sees only after a few moments an?
other street cutting this one at right angles, and form
ing with it a dark cross-road. There, as in the cav
erns by the sea-shore, you can not hear the noise
without, except it be a dull, mournful hum, which re
sembles as much the wail of the wind-tossed waves
as the tumult of a populous city. A few rope-spin
ners' shops, their massive doors fast closed, and here
and there a few dark passages, are the only signs
which remind you that you are in a city, and in the
midst of inhabited houses. Water is constantly ooz
ing out of the walls ; a perpetual moisture reigns every
where ; and scarcely, even at midday, at the time of
the summer solstice, does a sunbeam visit this dismal
den. A little new life then begins to stir, till the sun
has advanced into the winter solstice, when it relapses
into its former gloom and silence.
It was there, then, in one of these sinister-looking
houses, that I was to meet a man able to settle a piece
of business for me from which all the other lawyers
in Mexico had recoiled. I stopped some moments to
gaze with wonder and amazement upon the situation
chosen for the office of the lawyer; but had not the
episode, which I had witnessed a short time before, al
ready prepared me for the eccentricities of Don Tadeo ?

MEXICO BY MOONLIGHT. 101
How could I explain the easy, familiar tone which he
had employed with the wretch to whom he was con
signing the message to Pepito Rechifla? How the
relations which appeared to exist between the bandit
and the licentiate ? The strange intimacy of a lawyer
with thieves and assassins seemed, at first sight, not
at all to be expected. The hope, however, of obtain
ing a solution of this seeming enigma decided me, and
I left the Callejon del Arco with the intention of visit
ing it again two hours afterward.

CHAPTER II.

A Mexican Gambling-house. — Navaja, the Mexican Bravo. — John
Pearce, the Yankee.
Night had come ; one of those nights in May in
which Mexico, seen by moonlight, assumes an appear
ance almost magical. The pale light of the moon
sheds its soft radiance upon the stained steeples of the
churches and the colored facades of the monuments.
The moon here scatters her voluptuous light over the
earth in a bounteous fashion, unknown in our northern
regions. The crowd upon the Plaza Mayor was not
so dense as before sunset ; it was less noisy, and more
scattered. The promenaders spoke in a low tone, as,
if they feared to break the silence which was brooding-
over all. The light noise produced by the waving of
fans, the rustle of silk dresses, sometimes a peal of fe
male laughter, melodious and clear as the tone of a
crystal bell, or the striking of a church clock at a dis
tance, alone broke the general silence. Veiled wom
en, and men wrapped in long cloaks, glided like shad-

102 • PROMENADERS. — AN ADVENTURE.
ows over the sand, that hardly crunched beneath their
tread. I saw more than one mysterious couple, whose
appearance there would probably furnish dainty food
to the scandal-loving denizens of the drawing-room.
Besides young and beautiful women, there were also
those who, to use an English expression, were on the
shady side of thirty years. You could see also a con
siderable number of those doncellas chanflonas, those
beauties of easy virtue mentioned by Perez of Gue
vara. I say nothing of the adventure-seekers whom
you find every where in Mexico — bullies, who wear
the pavement with their sabres and spurs. Such was
the motley crowd which pushed and jostled one an
other on the Plaza Mayor at the very time I. was be
taking myself, not without some fear, I must say, to
the Callejon del Arco.
I had hardly reached the mouth of the dark lane,
when a current of cold air, as if it had issued from a
cave, struck my face, and chilled me to the bone. I
stood for some seconds at the entrance of the alley,
trying to discover some gleam of light from the win
dows or grated doors, but there were no signs of life
in a single house. I then advanced, groping along in
search of the house which I had discovered a short
time before. I had almost arrived at the cross-road
of which I have already spoken, when I heard a noise
of footsteps behind me, and saw a man who, coming
from the square, was advancing toward me. I wished
to keep on the pavement, but my legs getting entan
gled in the long rapier of the stranger in some way or
other, I stumbled, and, to keep myself from falling,
grasped his cloak. The man immediately stepped
back, and, by the grazing of steel, I knew he was draw
ing his sword.

A NIGHT ADVENTURE. 103
" Capa de Dios /"' cried he. " Whether is it my
person or my cloak you are fancying, Sir Robber ?"
I thought I knew the voice, and I hastened to re-
" I am neither a robber nor assassin, Senor Don — "'
I thought the unknown was going to assist my
memory, and state his name. He did nothing of the
kind ; but, putting his back to the door of a house, he
said, roughly,
" Who are you, and what do you want ?"
"I am seeking for the dwelling of Don Tadeo the
licentiate," I replied; "and, if I am not greatly de
ceived, we are standing before it at this very moment."
" Ah ! who told you he lived here ?"
" Tio Lucas, the public scribe. I wish to consult
Don Tadeo on a very important affair."
"Don Tadeo! It is he that is speaking to you
just now."
The costume of this man I could not distinguish ;
his features were precisely similar to the bull-fight am
ateur, with whose name Tio Lucas had acquainted me.
I hastened to reply to Don Tadeo, counting myself
happy in having met him, and begged a few minutes'
private conversation.
"With the greatest pleasure," he replied. "I am
quite ready to take up your affair ; but let us first en
ter the house ; we can then speak more at our ease."
At the same time, he struck the pommel of his sworcl
against the door behind him. "My profession," ad
ded he, " obliges me to employ many precautions.
You will immediately comprehend why. Do not be
astonished at my queer domicile. You may think me
an original, and may have reason."
Don Tadeo paused, and the door of the mysterious

104 A GAMBLING-HOUSE.
house opened with a great clanking of chains. The
porter, with a huge lantern in his hand, bWed respect
fully to the licentiate, who motioned me to follow him.
We walked rapidly along the zaguan or lobby, and,
after mounting a very steep stair, stopped before a
serge curtain, surmounted by a transparent lantern, on
which was inscribed, in large letters, Sociedad Filar-
monica. Voices and confused cries escaped from the
hall which bore this ambitious title. " Are those your
clients who are making such a great noise, Senor Li
centiate ?" I inquired. Without a word, he lifted the
curtain of green serge, and we found ourselves in an
immense hall, indifferently lighted. A long table, cov
ered with green baize, and surrounded with players,
stood in the middle of the room. Besides the lamps
which hung from the walls, the place was lighted up
by four candles stuck into tin holders. Some small
tables, with refreshments, placed at regular distances
from each other, furnished the players with infusions
of tamarinds, rose water, or Barcelona brandy. At
the bottom of the hall rose a high estrade, ornamented
with some size-color paintings, representing, for the
purpose, no doubt, of showing the original design of
the establishment, a confused group of bassoons, hunt
ing-horns, and clarionets. My surprise may be easily
conceived when I found myself in a gambling-house
like this at the very time I fancied I was stepping into
a lawyer's office. I contemplated my companion as
if I were looking upon him for the first time. He
was assuredly the very man I had met in the circus
and in the Merchants' Arcades. With this strange
costume, long rapier, and thick, black curly hair, his
appearance partook more of the bandit than of the law
yer. He had taken only a few steps in the hall when

DON TADEO'S CLIENTS. 105
he was accosted by two individuals — worthy habitues
of such a den. The first was a tall, awkward, sham
bling fellow, with a ferocious air, who held out to the
licentiate a hand large as a shoulder of mutton, and
said, in Spanish, with strong English accent, " How
is Senor Don Tadeo to-day ?"
" Better than those to whom you wish well, Master
John Pearce," replied he, darting upon his interlocu
tor a look of cold disdain, which pierced him like <i
sword. "You know well that your reputation here
is ruined as much as it was in Texas. Above all,
since — "
" Tut!" said the American, evidently not at all de
sirous that the licentiate should finish his sentence.
"With your permission, I have come to consult
you." " Immediately," replied the man of law. " I must,
however, give the preference to this gentleman, whom
I met before you."
" Do me a favor ; listen to me first, Senor Licenti
ate," cried another personage, with squinting eyes and
gray hair, dressed in the national costume of Mexico.
" I wish also to ask your advice."
" Ah ! is it you, Navaja," replied Tadeo, eyeing the
Mexican, who seemed to tremble under his stern
glance. "Are you going to trouble me any more
about that ugly affair?"
" Tut !" cried the Mexican in his turn. " Since it
pleases you, I will take the third place."
It was quite sufficient for Don Tadeo to remind
them of these two episodes, which doubtless did not
redound to their credit, to shake himself free of their
importunities. I admired the power that gave my
companion an experience, evidently acquired at great
E 2

106 THE LAWYER'S REPUTATION.
personal risk, among the most dangerous bravos of the
Mexican brotherhood.
" Ah!" said Don Tadeo, turning at last to me, "will
you now enlighten me, Senor Cavalier, about the af
fair which has brought you hither ? It must be some
thing very delicate, since only those cases are brought
to me which my brother lawyers consider insurmount
able. It was doubtless one of these lawyers who ad
vised you to address yourself to me."
I named the licentiate who had extolled the intrepid
heart and good sword of Don Tadeo. He shook his
head with a disdainful smile.
" The business in question is a dangerous one," re
plied he, " I can easily see that. The man who rec
ommended me to you is my declared enemy, and he
does not send me such jobs for nothing. Besides, per
haps I am a little too ready to draw in the public
streets after nightfall. What of it ? I am of Seville,
and one hasn't passed several years of one's life among
the fighting men in the suburb of Triana for nothing."
"Are you a Spaniard?"
" Of course ; and, before being a lawyer, I was what
you call a go-ahead fellow — uracan y calavera. You
see before you a student of Salamanca — of that beau
tiful city : " ' En Salamanca, la tuna
Anduve marzo y abril.
Ninas he visto mas de mil
Pero como tu, ninguna.'*
I once made some songs myself, and even set tnem to
music ; and it was in consequence of a serenade un-
* At Salamanca I led a very dissipated life in the months of March
and April. I saw more than a. thousand women, but none so fair as
you.

OUR INTERVIEW. 107
happily broken up, and followed by the death of a
man, that necessity compelled me to seek my fortune
in New Spain. To insure my success here, I possess
ed two valuable qualities, which rarely go together — I
was a thorough master of law and of fence. You
yourself can acknowledge that my old humor of sword-
playing has not yet left me ; but I think, Seiior Cava
lier, I owe you some amends for the unintentional in
sult which I lately put upon you. To tell the truth,
at that time I was just about to pass my sword through
your body. Allow me to offer you, as a slight com
pensation for my rudeness, some tincture of rose wa
ter or Catalonian refino."
Without giving time for reply, the licentiate drew
me to a table, where we sat down. My astonishment
increased as I became more acquainted with this sin
gular personage. It was not till after we had partaken
of some slight refreshment that Don Tadeo would con
sent to listen to my business, which I told him as clear
ly and briefly as I could.
" Good !" said he ; " you are seeking a debtor you
can't find ; but won't you tell his name ?"
" Ah ! his name is one that touches the sympathies
of your brethren very nearly, for no one dares take up
my case against him."
"Let's hear this terrible name. I am curious to
know if it will have .the same effect upon me."
"I'll tell it you in a whisper. His name is Don
Dionisio Peralta!"
The licentiate never moved a muscle of his face.
" How much does he owe you ?"
" Four hundred piastres."
"No more," said Don Tadeo, after a moment's si
lence. "Let us go In the terrace at the top of the

108 THE LICENTIATE'S CLERK.
house, where we can converse more at our ease. But,
first of all, allow me to finish the business of those
two fellows who are waiting for me. The interest
even which I take in your case obliges me to put a
stop to our conversation for the present, for the pur
pose of getting some indispensable information among
the frequenters of this gaming-house. All I ask of
you is to manifest no surprise if you see or hear things
you don't exactly understand."
I shook hands with the licentiate. We rose and
crossed to a group of players, that had increased con
siderably since our private conversation began. A
crowd of spectators, two deep, surrounded the green
board upon which the piastres rolled with a most at
tractive clink.
The licentiate passed before his two clients, the
Mexican and the American, signing them to wait upon
him, and walked up to a young man, who, like the
other spectators, was devouring the green board with
greedy look. This fellow, of a sallow and cadaverous
aspect, wore an almost brimless hat over his long,
thick hair, and a well-worn esclavina on his shoulders.
He was the beau ideal of a lawyer's clerk, sorry at
being unable to stake his master's fortune on a card.
" Ortiz !" said the licentiate, " have you writing ma
terials with you ?"
"Of course," the clerk replied; and he drew from
his pocket a roll containing paper, pens, and ink. The
licentiate sat down by himself, wrote a few lines, fold
ed the paper, and passed it to his clerk, who replied to
his master's directions, given in a low voice, only by a
bow and a hurried exit. The licentiate then begged
me to have patience for a few minutes longer, till he
had given his two clients their promised consultation,

AN EXTRAORDINARY SCENE. 109
and I mixed with the throng round the table. It was
certainly an extraordinary sight ; adventurers of all
kinds surrounded me, reminding me strongly of the
heroes in the old picaresque romances. I was struck
by a remarkably characteristic feature. The banker
had on the table by him a Catalonian knife, with an
edge as keen as a razor. An intimation which he
gave the players let me into the secret of this strange
proceeding. " I warn the gentlemen now present,"
said he, " that if any one affects to confound the bank
with his stake, I shall nail his hand to the table with
this knife." This strange threat seemed not to aston
ish or offend any one ; and I concluded that the mis
hap provided against by the banker had occurred more
than once.
In spite of the extraordinary scenes I was witness
ing, I could not help feeling the time rather long till
the licentiate drew me away from the green board to a
retired corner of the hall, where his two clients, the tall
Yankee and the squinting Mexican, were seated to
gether at a table. The American was just finishing
a bottle of Catalonian refino, while the Mexican slow
ly sipped some iced tamarind water.
"Well," said the licentiate, regarding me with a
look full of meaning, "here are two gentlemen who
will remove your conscientious scruples regarding the
four hundred piastres you owe me, and who affirm that
you can very easily pay me by making over a similar
debt due you by Senor Peralta, who will honor his
signature with the greatest grace in the world."
"I did not say that," cried the American, with a
roar of laughter. " I don't know if he will pay with
pleasure. All I know is that he will pay, or — "
"Softly!" interrupted Don Tadeo. "From the

110 GRATITUDE OF PEPITO RECHIFLA.
moment that Peralta becomes my debtor, his life is
valuable to me, and I require you to respect it."
" Senor Peralta will pay with pleasure, I uphold,"
said the Mexican, softly, sipping his liquor by mouth-
fuls as if it burned him, while the American emptied
his glass of refino at a single draught, like so much
water. "Make him pay, that's all I care about," said the
licentiate. " But is not that Pepito Rechifla with my
clerk over there ? That's capital ! Ortiz has not been
long^bout his business."
The name of Pepito reminded me of the pretty Chi
na that I had seen with such a sad face in the Mer
chants' Arcades. I contemplated the man pointed out
by the licentiate with some curiosity. He was a fel
low with a sunburned complexion, shaggy, unkempt
hair, and a bold, shameless face — such a one as is met
with nowhere but in the tents of the wandering Bohe
mians or in the streets of Mexico. "Ah! Senor Li
centiate," cried he, "I shall never forget that I owe
my life to you. I was to be garroted the day after
to-morrow, and it was you who extricated me from the
claws of the juez de letras (criminal judge). Some
reals from your purse restored me to freedom. Yes,
Senor Licentiate, don't be astonished ; I know you are
my savior; your clerk has told me all."
" Ortiz is a fool !" replied Don Tadeo, dryly ; " but
I am rejoiced at your good fortune, for I wished to
speak with you. I need your assistance. Here's a
piastre for your supper."
"Thank you. I am never hungry but when my
pocket is empty. When I have a piastre I stake it."
And the fellow hastened to the table. The Yankee
and Mexican rose also, and followed him. Don Tadeo,

WE GO TO THE TERRACE. 1 J 1
freed from their importunities, drew me aside. " You
see these three men," said he, with a smile. "Do you
think there is any debtor who can resist three such
bailiffs — above all, when the debt has been made over
to Don Tadeo the licentiate ? You understand me,
of course. When I wished the debt made over to me,
my name confers additional power in this dangerous
war ; but when the conflict is over, all the advantages
will be yours, less the expenses of the campaign, which,
along with the honors of victory, you will allow me to
retain." " But how will you light upon Peralta ? Up to this
moment I could never get a trace of him."
" That is my concern, and that of the three precious
vagabonds you saw just now. Don Dionisio Peralta
is a bad payer, but a good fence. However, we shall
see." I then reminded Don Tadeo that he had expressed
a wish to know more about my business with him,
and I offered to satisfy him in this respect. At bot
tom I wished to examine more thoroughly this singu
lar character. Don Tadeo seemed to guess my real
intention. "It is half past ten," he replied, looking
at his watch. "I am at your service till midnight.
Let us go up to the azotea (terrace). There is nobody
there at this hour. The night is beautiful, and you
can tell me your story without any risk of being over
heard."

112 A MOONLIGHT SCENE.

CHAPTER III.
The Convent of the Bernardines. — The young Creole Lady.
Arrived at the terrace, we stood for some time in
silent contemplation. At our feet lay the ancient city
of the Aztecs, with its domes and spires innumerable
glittering in the pale moonlight. Not far from us, the
Cathedral threw its gigantic shadow and the profile of
its towers on the Plaza Mayor. In the distance, the
Parian* reared its black mass in the midst of spaces
whitened by the moon, like a dark rock surrounded by
foaming billows. Still farther off you ' recognized the
elegant cupola of Santa Teresa, the fine domes of the
convent of St. Francisco, the steeples of St. Augustin
and the Bernardines, and behind this majestic crenu-
lated mass of buildings, cupolas, and colored spires,
you' saw the country bathed in a white vapor, which,
rising from the lakes, encircles the city like a lumin
ous halo.
Don Tadeo was the first to break silence by asking
me some questions about the business which had been
intrusted to him. I eagerly replied, hoping that he
would soon make me some revelations about himself,
which could not fail to be interesting ; but the licen
tiate had fallen into a profound reverie, and I was be
ginning to despair of success, when the merest acci
dent came to my relief. This was the toll of a dis
tant bell, which suddenly rose, like a mysterious wail,
* An old bazar, not unlike the Temple-market in Paris,

THE PASSING-BELL. 113
from amid the mournful silence. At the sound he
shook his head, then put his hands over his face, which
became gradually overspread with a deadly pallor. At
last he took me by the hand, and, interrupting me in
the midst of my explanation, cried, " Don't you hear
that bell ?"
" Yes," I replied. " And, if I am not deceived, it
is the sound of the passing-bell in the convent of the
Bernardines." "In the convent of the Bernardines!" he repeated,
in a strangely altered tone; "in the convent of the
Bernardines, do you say ?"
' ' Assuredly. I recognize the direction of the sound ;
I can not be wrong."
"Let us descend immediately, for the sound drives
me mad."
" Why descend ? Is the light of the moon not bet
ter than those smoky lamps in the hell we have just
quitted ?"
The licentiate made no reply for a long time. The
bell, whose strokes became more and more distinct,
exercised upon him a kind of influence quite inexplic
able. I can not tell whether Don Tadeo remarked my
surprise, but he probably relieved his bursting heart
by taking my hand, and letting escape, in the midst
of stifled sobbing, these strange words :
" You must listen to me. I never hear the peal of
that bell without seeing, as in a bad dream, the sad
dest event in my life rise before my eyes. Nothing in
me will more excite your astonishment when you are
acquainted with the horrible occurrence of which that
bell reminds me."
I made him aware, by signs, that I was ready to lis
ten to him. This is the story he told me, with a cool-

114 DON TADEO'S STORY.
ness that I could hardly have expected, from the sad
introduction with which it was prefaced.
"In the year 1825, that is, ten years ago, an attempt
at assassination was made in the streets of Mexico.
This is, unhappily, such an every-day affair in the
capital of Mexico, that the public mind would not have
been called to it had it not been accompanied by some
strange circumstances. These were so strange, that,
instead of being briefly narrated in the last column of
the journals, as is commonly the case, it figured among
the events, more or less important, which have the
privilege of engaging the attention of the idle inhabi
tants of Mexico for more than a week. A singular
mystery, in fact, hung over this attempt at murder.
Early in the morning, when the Paseo of Bucareli is
quite solitary, a hackney-coach was seen standing in
a retired part of the promenade. The coachman had
descended from his box, and was standing prudently
aside, as if he guessed the meaning of this early drive.
Was it a man or a woman whom this coach of provi
dence (you know that is the name given to the hack
ney-coaches in Mexico) had driven to a love appoint
ment ? The blinds, carefully drawn down, left every
thing to conjecture ; but it transpired afterward that a
young female of dazzling beauty was in it, who, prompt
ed by female vanity, was richly adorned with jewels
for this occasion. The Creoles, you know, have a
strange fancy for appearing to be as rich as they are
beautiful ; however, although that was the case with
this young lady, she was still more beautiful than
rich. A few minutes passed, when a man enveloped
in a large cloak approached the vehicle. The coach
man opened the door of the carriage, and the stranger
sprang in precipitately. A meeting of this kind was

DON TADEO S STORY. 115
too much in the Mexican fashion to astonish the coach
man, who stretched himself upon the grass under the
poplars, and fell into a deep sleep. When he awoke
the carriage was still in the same place, only the shad
ows of the poplars, instead of leaning to the west, as at
the time when he fell asleep, were stretching toward the
east, as much as to say that the sun had nearly set, and
the evening was succeeding the morning. This is the
time when the Paseo is most thronged with promen-
aders. The coachman was astonished at having slept
so long ; he ran to the carriage, called aloud, and, not
receiving any answer, opened the door. A horrible
spectacle met his eyes. Upon the cushions lay the
young lady in a swoon, the cause of which was suffi
ciently explained by the blood with which the carriage
was flooded. The blood flowed from a large wound,
struck by the unerring hand of a skillful practitioner ;
and this wound, at its first appearance, seemed mor
tal. Of all the diamonds which sparkled on her neck
and dangled from her ears, not one remained. The
unhappy female had thus found an assassin instead of
a lover, and theft was followed by an attempt at mur
der. The cries of the coachman were not long in draw
ing a crowd, among which was luckily a surgeon, who
maintained that the lady was still alive. He got her
conveyed to the nearest convent, which happened to
be that of the Bernardines. The first duty of human
ity fulfilled, justice commenced its task ; but while the
physicians were restoring her to health, the efforts of
the ministers of justice were not crowned with a like
success. The coachman was first arrested ; but he
was soon released, having proved his perfect innocence.
A young Spaniard, whose attentions to the fair Creole
had been very marked for a long time, was then ap-

116 DON TADEO'S STORY.
prehended. He learned at one and the same time both
the infidelity and death of her whom he wished to be
come his wife. This was a terrible stroke." Here
Don Tadeo's voice evidently broke, and he seemed as
if he had lost his senses. " At the end of a year,"
continued the licentiate, "the Spaniard was released
for want of proof; but he left the prison ruined by
law expenses, and with a heart dead to all his former
dear illusions. He then learned that she who had
deceived him, and whom he had bewailed as dead, was
still alive, but that she had renounced the world, and
taken the veil in that convent to which she had been
carried after the unhappy incident in the Paseo. He
never attempted to see her ; but all his efforts, all his
thoughts were directed to one sole end — vengeance !
Mexican justice had been unable to discover the assas
sin. He set on foot inquiries himself, and succeeded,
although the judges declared that success was impos
sible." The licentiate here paused ; the bell was still toll
ing, and I began to undestand the emotions these mel
ancholy sounds awoke in his bosom.
" This Spaniard, you have guessed already, I dare
say, was myself. A letter had been found on the
young Creole's person, inviting her to that private in
terview which had nearly terminated in her death.
This was the only clew I had to guide me in the in
tricate labyrinth where Mexican justice had been at
fault. Since then commenced a dark and uneasy pe
riod of my life, which death can alone put an end to.
I condescended to live among thieves and murderers
in the hope of unraveling, by their revelations, that
secret which entirely absorbed me. Under color of
exercising my profession, I mixed myself up in all

DON TADEO S STORY. 117
those cases which would give me an opportunity of
interrogating malefactors, and of penetrating into their
haunts and places of amusement. Since then, not a
single crime has been committed in Mexico whose per
petrator I could not hand over to justice. The most
secret societies of criminals are well known to me in
all their most intimate workings. You may perhaps
have heard of that band of ensebados who for a whole
year kept the Mexican capital in continual alarm.
The ensebados were men who, after besmearing their
naked bodies with grease or oil, threw themselves
upon the benighted pedestrian and robbed him, and,
in the event of resistance, plunged a dagger into his
body. Only one of the bandits, as slippery as an eel,
escaped from the soldiers who had managed to hunt
down all the rest. Well, he was their chief. I know
him ; and even now I could put my hand on him, if I
chose. This is not the only singular discovery I
made. I could mention a thousand. Thanks to the
perilous and watchful life I have led, I acquired an ex
perience which soon made me of incalculable benefit
to the miserable cutthroats with whose singular ante
cedents I had thus become acquainted. Often, for
days together, has my life been in danger, and more
than one wretch has tried to stab me as a spy ; but the
services which my knowledge of the law rendered to
many of the rest proved my protection. Now, I am
not a little proud of the influence which I exercise
over the most redoubtable robbers in Mexico, and you
see that I have under my orders an army willing to
assist honest people who stand in need of my assist
ance." " Mine is a case in point," I replied, " and I am glad
that I fell in with you ; but you have not informed

118 DON TADEO 'S STORY.
me whether you were successful in finding the assas
sin of the Paseo of Bucareli."
" I was completely successful. I was lucky enough
to fall in with the public scribe who had been em
ployed to write those fatal lines which had enticed my
mistress to the Paseo. The evangelist knew the
wretch, and he set me on his track. I found him out.
I had but to denounce him, and justice would have
pounced upon him ; but this would have defeated the
object to which I had devoted my life. I did not be
tray him, therefore. Many years had rolled away
since the attempt ; and, during that time, on account
of my intercourse with such characters, I had learned
more to pity than hate them. Nay, I often employ
them to do certain pieces of business for me, which
Mexican justice gives up as impossible. The assassin
is still a useful instrument for me ; one, too, that I can
crush at a word, but whom I prefer employing in the
service of my numerous clients."
Another pause. The toll of the bell was still heard.
" I never saw my beloved again, who is now in a con
vent," continued Don Tadeo ; "but I learned from a
sure quarter that she has been long in a deep con
sumption. You will now understand why the bell-
peal of the Bernardines made me shudder."
I was trying to persuade Don Tadeo to descend, that
he might no longer hear the dismal toll of the passing-
bell, when the trap-door of the azotea creaked lightly
on its hinges, and the squint-eyed Mexican, called Na
vaja, glided rather than walked toward us. He was
pale with fright, and looked uneasily behind him.
"He is the devil in person!" cried he, leaning to
take breath against the railing of the azotea.
" Whom do you mean ?" asked the licentiate.

SARCASM OF THE LAWYER. 119
" The American. He is just about finishing his
third bottle of refino, and is shouting in a loud voice
what he calls his war-song. He is a ferocious Indian,
with a white man's skin. He is recounting all the
hair he has raised, all the murders he- has committed.
And, would you believe it, he claims my scalp as an
addition to his treasures. I tell you again, he is a
devil." "What a saint you have become all at once !" said
the licentiate, who again began to fling his sarcasms at
the Mexican. " How long is it since you began to
hate the smell of blood ?"
The gayety of Don Tadeo was terrible to behold.
This question of the licentiate's raised a hatred in his
mind, fierce and implacable as the tiger's. Don Tadeo
did not seem to take any notice of the impression he
was producing, but, on the contrary, to delight in irri
tating the wretch, who foamed with anger under his
cold, biting sarcasm. An allusion to the criminal at
tempt on the Paseo suddenly enlightened me as to this
keen, bitter irony. Before me stood the man on whom
the licentiate could take vengeance if he chose, at
whose mercy he lived, and who had treacherously at
tempted the life of the unhappy female for whom the
passing-bell was perhaps tolling at this very moment.
" Does the peal of the Bernardines remind you of
nothing ?" said Don Tadeo ; but this last sally de
prived the Mexican of all patience, and, instead of re
plying, he bounded forward to snatch the licentiate's
rapier, but with a vigorous thrust of the arm he was
hurled violently to the ground.
"Come, now," cried the licentiate, "you forget the
crime you committed. I forgive you, miscreant ; but
out of this, instantly."

120 AN INTREPID LAWYER.
The Mexican, stunned and stupefied, did not wait
for a repetition of the order, but shuffled off precipi
tately. I could not help complimenting Don Tadeo
on his coolness and courage. "What of that?" he
said, with a melancholy smile. " You know the uni
versity in which I took my degi'ee. I value my life
only at its true worth. Let us go below. I under
stand your case thoroughly ; and, before many days
are passed, I hope to have some good news for you."
We went down, and soon reached the great square
upon which the Callejon del Arco opens. There we
separated, the licentiate repairing to his abode, and I
to mine, by the street Monterilla. " We shall meet
again soon," said Don Tadeo to me on bidding me
good-night. "I hope so," I replied, although I did
not partake so heartily in that belief as did the intrep
id lawyer. I could not help comparing Don Tadeo
in my own mind with those wild-beast tamers, who
often astonish us by their deeds of courage and address,
but whose least false step may transform them from
masters to victims.

CHAPTER IV.

Manner of taking Possession in Mexico. — Tragical End of the Assassin
of the Paseo.
A month passed away without Don Tadeo giving
any signs of life. At last a note, that he had sent me
by his clerk Ortiz, explained the reason of his long de
lay. There were two causes that hindered my case
from being proceeded with according to his customary
activity. " One of these you may probably guess,"
he said. " The passing-bell that we heard tolling was

MY DEBT COMPROMISED. 121
for her ! After the first burst of grief I was about to
take up your case, when I received a dagger-stab from
an invisible hand, the effects of which forced me to
keep my bed for a considerable time. However, I
am happy to be able to announce to you that your case
is now progressing favorably. I succeeded in discov
ering, not without some trouble, the abode of Dionisio
Peralta, and have set upon his traces the three knaves
whom you saw the other night. Good-by ; take no
step without consulting me, and in a short time you
will receive more satisfactory news."
Eight days had scarcely elapsed when I received
another note from the licentiate. This letter contain
ed a detailed account of the campaign which he had
conducted against Dionisio Peralto, and its happy
termination. Pepito Rechifla, John Pearce the Yan
kee, and Navaja the Mexican, went, one after the
other, to the house of Dionisio Peralta, claiming, as
they said, the recovery of a debt with which they had
been intrusted by their friend the licentiate, Don Ta
deo. Dionisio Peralta, in spite of his gentlemanly
airs, was, to speak the truth, a knave of their own
stamp, and received them at first with all the arro
gance of a bully ; but the significant threats of the
three ruffians soon brought him to terms. Peralta
knew but too well the character of the men with whom
he had to deal, and the influence of the licentiate, who
directed these bullies, rendered the odds decidedly
against him. He at last ended by proposing a com
promise, which the licentiate had been constrained to
accept. Peralta had a small villa in the little village
of Tacuba, about a league from Mexico, the value of
which was almost equal to the amount of the debt. He
consented, in lieu of payment, to deliver up this house
F

122 WE SET OUT FOE TACUBA.
to Don Tadeo, who had taken possession of it from the
very first. There remained nothing now to wind up
the affair but to receive the house from the hands of
its new owner. Don Tadeo invited me to wait upon
him the following day. We proposed to go together
to the domain of my old debtor, of whose property he
would install me as rightful owner.
Next day we set out together on horseback for the
village of Tacuba. I was somewhat curious to see
my new property, and, above all, to witness the cere
monies which, in Mexico, ordinarily accompany the
act of taking possession. On the road I congratulated
the licentiate on the lucky star which seemed to favor
him, and that had on a recent occasion saved his life
a second time. I expressed at the same time my re
gret that perhaps he had drawn upon himself the
vengeance of Dionisio Peralto ; but he replied that I
was wrong in my supposition, and that, to all appear
ance, the man who had attempted his life was no other
than the same wretch who had assaulted the Creole
lady in the Paseo of Bucareli. " Be that as it may,"
he added, " my suspicions of Navaja have not hinder
ed me from employing him in this business of yours,
in which his zeal has been very conspicuous. Men
of this class, when not in their cups or in a sullen
mood, are blindly obedient to the person who has
made them feel his superiority. In a letter which
Peralto wrote me, announcing his acceptance of my
terms, I read without regret the terrible menaces which
he launched against this ruffian, whom I strongly sus
pect to have attempted my life, and who has shown
himself the most active of the three in pursuit of your
debtor. Peralta is hardly a man that will threaten in'
vain, and I fear his vengeance will follow quickly."

TRANSFORMATION OF PEPITO. 123
In conversation like this, we soon left the town be
hind us and got into the country, if the desert and
arid plains that we crossed at full gallop could be so
termed. The heat was stifling, and a deep silence lay
around. All at once a horse's hoof broke the stillness,
and we were joined by a cavalier, in whom I could
hardly have recognized Pepito Rechifla. The ruffian
had attired himself with some degree of elegance ; he
wore a blue manga lined with yellow cotton, and his
horse's equipments were of a character thoroughly
Mexican. He saluted us with an air at once courtly
and patronizing. " You will pardon me," he said,
" Senor Licentiate, if I take the liberty of traveling in
your company ; but, aware of your intention to take
a short ride to-day, I thought you would not be the
worse of having an additional companion. This road
does not bear a very good character ;" and, casting an
expressive look at the arm which the lawyer carried
in a sling, he added, "it is not always prudent to run
into dangers at a distance from home. I am, howev
er, pretty sure that we shall not need to draw upon
any body to-day."
Having finished this last sentence with a drawling
affectedness, Pepito whispered into the ear of the li
centiate some words which I could not make out. I
only remarked that he pointed out to Don Tadeo a
group of hillocks on our left, over which hovered a
flock of great black vultures. Without replying to
Pepito, the licentiate stopped his horse a moment, and
looked in a different direction. His face had a pain
ful expression in it. He then signed to us to continue
our route, spurred his horse vigorously, and a few min
utes after we clattered through the streets of the vil
lage in which my new property was situated.

124 MY HOUSE and its appearance.
The house which Don Tadeo had gained (for he had
at first taken possession in his own name) was situated
at the extremity of the village. Crowds of villagers,
who had assembled to share in the largesses which are
usually distributed on an occasion of this kind, stood
before the house, and assisted us in recognizing it. It
was a little building of a very sorry appearance, with
a small porch before the door, supported by brick pil
lars. Numerous cracks furrowed the walls in every di
rection, clearly indicating a sad state of disrepair. Be
hind the house was a garden choked with weeds, sur
rounded by a wall thickly covered with moss, and
crowned with pellitories. The porter, whom the licen
tiate had put in charge of the house, opened the door.
" You are in your own house," said Don Tadeo to me.
We entered. The interior of the house -was as deso
late as the exterior. The ceilings were gaping with
chinks, the disjointed boards in the stairs creaked sad
ly under foot, and the garden was nothing more than
a collection of sentern, nettles, and thistles, in the
midst of which rose some sickly-looking fruit-trees.
This wretched house and garden, however, were al
most equal to the debt, and that was sufficient ; the
more in the case of such a debtor as Peralta was, with
whom one could not be too exacting.
After visiting the ground floor and the garden, we
went up stairs. The room which we first entered
seemed to have been a dining-room, and had not been
entered for many years, if one could judge from the
musty smell which pervaded the apartment. We hast
ened to let in the air and light by opening the strong
ly-barred window-shutters. A collection of spiders'
webs, thickly matted together, covered the entire ceil
ing. We looked into the presses, but they were all

MEXICAN WITNESSES. 125
empty ; one only contained a large dusty tome, in an
antique binding, which the licentiate put under his
cloak after hurriedly glancing over its contents. Our
inspection was over. " Let us call the witnesses,"
said Don Tadeo to Pepito, whom we have constituted
upon this solemn occasion master of the ceremonies.
The lepero, magnificently dressed in his blue manga,
advanced to the casement, and made a short speech to
the worthy people in rags, who were collected in groups
beneath the windows. The eloquence of Pepito had
the desired effect, and a few minutes afterward the
court was filled with a far greater number of witnesses
than the law required. I had never seen such a rich
collection of gallows-birds. Preceded by Pepito, we
descended into the court, and thence into the garden,
followed by the crowd. " Seiiores," cried Pepito, in a
loud voice, "you are witnesses that, in the name of
the law, his lordship here present," and Pepito pointed
to me, " takes regular possession of this estate. Dios
y Libertad /" Don Tadeo then came forward. By
his instructions I first plucked a handful of grass and
threw it over my head, and then pitched a stone over
the garden wall. These, by the terms of the Mexican
law, are the ceremonies which accompany the act of
taking possession. A general hurrah now burst from
the throats of the respectable company assembled in
the garden. All that now remained, according to na
tional usage, was to present some gratuity to the dirty
ruffians who had crawled from every corner of the vil
lage to wish me joy of my new possession. I gave
them a few piastres to drink, and, headed by Pepito,
they went to spend them in the neighboring cabaret.
"Well," said the licentiate to me, when we were
alone, " you see you have got payment of your debt.

126 the lawyer's souvenir.
What do you think of my plan for making stubborn
debtors pay?"
" I fear, Don Tadeo, that you are playing a very
dangerous game for yourself; and, if you would take
my advice, you would give up business immediately as
redresser of wrongs, as I think the losses exceed the
profits." " You see, however, that I am fortunate in my en
terprises. Never mind. But as I may prematurely
receive a dagger-thrust some day or other, I would like
you to keep some remembrance of me. Here is a book
which was not comprised in the inventory of the house.
It is an old work, and not without its value."
" Thank you," said I to the licentiate, taking the
dusty tome. " The story that you told me on the
azotea of the house in the Callejon del Arco will ever
live in my recollection. One can not easily forget
such revelations ; and I was very fortunate indeed in
listening to such a romantic history."
The time had now come when we must return to
Mexico. Without waiting for Pepito, who would prob
ably finish the day at a wine-shop, we pushed along.
The heat was as insupportable as before. The flock
of vultures that Pepito had pointed out to Don Tadeo
had evidently increased, and a fetid odor was wafted
by the wind in our direction from the little mounds
above which the birds were fluttering. The licentiate
drew up suddenly.
" If you are curious to read the last page of the his
tory of which we were just talking," said he, " go over
to these hillocks ; but I fear your nerves are not strong
enough." "And what shall I see among these rocks?"
"A corpse; you observe that at this very moment

the last of the assassin. 127
the birds are pecking at it. One of the three ruffians
whom I employed to recover your debt has paid for all
the others. God is just ! The man who fell under
the dagger of Peralta was the perpetrator of the out
rage on the Paseo of Bucareli. The romance is now
complete, is it not ?"
" Assuredly ; and the sight of the vultures will add
to the impression your story has made upon me."
" Come," said the licentiate, spurring his horse, "I
see you are getting nervous. To town, then."
We parted on the Plaza Mayor in the hope of see
ing one another again, but fortune decreed otherwise ;
and a few weeks after my installation in Peralta's
house I quitted Mexico.
During my absence the gambling-house in the Cal
lejon was closed. On my return, Tio Lucas informed
me that the licentiate had returned to Spain. Since
that time I have made many ineffectual attempts to
procure some information about him. The only sou
venir that was left me of this extraordinary man is
the manuscript of Alonso Urbano, now in the Nation
al Librarv at Paris.

Bmigto l)asqtt£j.

CHAPTER I.
There is one peculiar charm in the towns of Mex
ico, and that is the perfect straightness of the streets,
along which the eye wanders till the point of sight
terminates in the blue hills of the country. In Mex
ico especially I was never tired gazing upon the mount
ains which bound the horizon upon all sides. On the
east I seemed to hear the murmur of the Pacific, and
on the west the hoarse roar of the Atlantic sounding
from behind these mountains. The first of these
oceans reminded me of one of the most adventurous
epochs of my life ; and I never could forget that the
second washed the shores of my native country. I
never looked in that direction without feeling a kind
of regret and sadness, which often merged into feverish
anxiety. In this state of mind, I grasped at every
thing which could afford me a pretext for quitting
Mexico. I hastened to shake off the sluggishness
which began to weigh upon me, and to abandon my
self anew to the dangers and emotions of a wandering
life — a sure remedy against home-sickness.
One evening, on reaching home, I learned that a
stranger had called during my absence. The unknown
had said that his business with me related to a mat
ter of life and death ; but, when asked to leave his

A MEXICAN INNKEEPER. 129
name, had obstinately refused to give it. He happen
ed to say, however, that he was living at an inn, the
Meson de Regina, and had gone away expressing great
annoyance at not finding me, and promising to return
the next day. The strange air of the visitor, the nu
merous questions he put, the care that he evidently
took not to allow his face to be seen by arranging the
folds of his blue manga over it, and the large hat which
shaded his eyes, combined to give to this visit a mys
terious character, which acted very strongly on my im
agination. When alone in my chamber, I called to
recollection every one whom it might possibly be, but
in vain, and I waited anxiously for the next day, which
might probably unriddle the enigma ; but the morn
ing passed, the day advanced, and the unknown had
not made his appearance. I resolved to go to the
Meson de Regina; and, having got a description of the
stranger, set out for the inn.
Although situated in one of the most central streets
in Mexico, the Meson de Regina is only distinguished
from other inns on less frequented roads by the greater
number of travelers who are always coming and going.
There is the same range of stabling, the same barren
ness of furniture, the same absence of every comfort.
I called for the huesped. In any other country it
would have been an easy thing to find out the name
of the unknown, whose costume I could describe to the
most minute details, but it is very different in a Mex
ican hotel.
"Do you fancy," said the huesped to me, " that it
is my business to ask the names of those who frequent
my house ? I have something else to think of, I as
sure you ; but as for the person you are inquiring aft
er, he set out, not half an hour ago, for Cuantitlan, as
F 2

130 PEPARATIONS FOR A RIDE.
his servant, who accompanied him, informed me, and,
if you are a swift horseman, you may overtake him, if
you are so very desirous to know his name."
"What was the color of their horses?"
"Iron-gray and peach-blossom."
A ride of some hours before dinner could not but be
salutary. Before setting out in pursuit of the stran
ger, I went home in order to ask some more questions
of Cecilio, my valet, about my visitant. This lad had
been already several years in my service, and his round
chubby face, with an air at once hypocritical and sim
ple, reminded me strongly of Ambrosio of Lamela in
Gil Bias. As I expected, he gave me a very unsatis
factory description of the unknown. I then disclosed
to Cecilio my intention of setting out immediately for
Cuantitlan, ordering him at the same time to saddle
our horses with all speed. Cecilio tried to convince
me that, in an affair of so delicate a nature, it were
best if I went alone, but I reiterated my order, and he
left the room to execute my commands. As I was go
ing to travel in the country, I donned my Mexican cos
tume, and went down into the court in all haste. I
remarked, without surprise, that my serape had been
attached to the back of my saddle. My pistols were
in their holsters ; and I also carried a lance with a
scarlet pennon, heavily shod with iron, which I was
accustomed, when traveling, to have fixed to my right
stirrup. A sabre hung from Cecilio's saddle-bow, and
a tolerably well-packed valise was fixed to the croup
of his horse. I asked him why he was making such
preparations, as we were only going out for a short
ride ; but his only answer was, that the environs of
Mexico were infested by robbers.
We set out. The travelers we were in pursuit of

A DISAPPOINTMENT. 131
could not be more than an hour in advance of us, and
the unusual color of their horses would aid us in track
ing them easily. I flattered myself that if we pushed
on we could overtake them without difficulty in two
hours, and if that were beyond our power, a couple of
fresh horses would not take long to cover the six
leagues between Mexico and Cuantitlan. I thus set
out with the intention of returning before sunset. The
difference of speed, however, between my horse and
that of my servant, forced me to slacken my pace.
Two hours had already rolled away without catching
the slightest glimpse of the man I was in quest of, and
the spire of Cuantitlan had not even come in sight. I
almost feared that the inn-keeper had sent us the wrong
road, when some muleteers, returning to Mexico, told
me that they had met two horsemen, one mounted on
an iron-gray, the other on a peach-blossom. We reach
ed Cuantitlan in a short time, and I was directed to
the hostelry where the two horsemen had stopped. I
had not been long in coming hither, and was at last
soon to know what I was burning to learn. I went
to the inn which had been pointed out to me, and my
foot had no sooner reached the ground than I began
questioning the huesped with the air of one who is sure
of finding what he wants.
" Are your horses tired ?" said the host, when I had
finished. "No.""Well, that's something, for the travelers only en
tered my house for refreshment and then left, and it
will be fresh horses alone that can overtake them."
And the host, who interested himself as much, if
that could be, with the horsemen that passed his house
as with those that lived within it, turned his back upon

132 WE CONTINUE THE PURSUIT,
me with the politeness peculiar to his class. I vault
ed again into my saddle. A quarter of an hour more,
thought I, would explain to me a certain defiant rail
lery which Cecilio had taken little pains to suppress.
To my great mortification, however, the time rolled
away ; night was coming on, and the shades of even
ing were falling insensibly around. Night at last fell ;
and I would have given up this long-protracted chase,
had not wounded self-esteem goaded me as much as
curiosity. A solemn silence brooded over the road we
were pursuing. Sometimes I stopped, fancying I heard
before me the stamp of horses' feet, and then redoubled
my pace with ardor, till the unbroken stillness which
reigned around showed that I had been under a delu
sion. Still, the certainty of being on the traces of the
unknown kept up my spirits, for, from Mexico to the
place where we now were, not even a bridle-path join
ed our road. All the probabilities were in my favor.
However, after a six hours' ride we required rest, and
a twelve leagues' gallop rendered a halt necessary for
our horses. It was, besides, time to set about looking
for a place to put up, for in Mexico there are two req
uisites for getting into an inn ; the first is, that the
inn please the travelers ; and the second, that the hour
and the travelers please the inn-keeper. Luckily, I
was not long in discovering a light in a cabin stand
ing by itself, toward which we spurred our horses.
Our host informed us that two horsemen had passed
his house about half an hour before we came up, but
the night was so dark that he could not distinguish
the color of their horses. As he was sure that they
must stop a short way off to pass the night, we de
cided to stay where we were till dawn, hoping to over
take them on the following morning. I considered

AND ARRIVE AT A HACIENDA. 133
that if we were off before sunrise we could easily make
up for lost time. Unfortunately, Cecilio did not rise
next morning till late, and the sun was high in the
heavens ere we found ourselves on the road. I had,
however, gone too far to recede, and, besides, I had
now a definite aim to pursue. Ceciho did not view
the case in the same light as myself, and it was with
a slight feeling of despair that every now and then he
informed me of the number of leagues we had traveled
since we left Mexico. But, though seen by so many
people, the travelers seemed to slip from me as if by
magic at the very moment I was flattering myself that
I had overtaken them. I had already passed through
the rocky defile of the Canada, and had left behind me
the hacienda of St. Francisco. During my journey I
had inquired at every rancho, and at all the ordinary
halting-places, and every one concurred in saying that
two mounted travelers, one on an iron-gray, the other
on a peach-blossom, could be only a short distance in
advance. " These two travelers are surely a brace of devils,"
said Cecilio, sadly, " or two great criminals at least,
as they seem to stop to rest nowhere."
Without replying, I continued my route, for I did
not wish to have the worst in this contest, and a kind
of phrensy began to take the place of my former curi
osity. For the second time since leaving Mexico the
sun set behind the hills that lay before us, and still
there was no hope of attaining the object of our jour
ney. Our horses, jaded by a ride of twenty hours,
were beginning to be fatigued ; and it was with a live
ly satisfaction that I perceived, by the last gleams of
departing day, the red walls of the hacienda of Ar
royo Zarco.

134 ARROYO ZARCO.

CHAPTER n.
The Hacienda of Arroyo Zarco. — The young Mexican Lady. — The
young Spanish Nobleman. — Don Tomas Verdugo.
The hacienda of Arroyo Zarco is a vast and impos
ing building, built partly of brick and partly of large
stones, situated almost at the entrance to the extensive
and fertile plains of Bajio. The place, however, where
this hacienda rises, is far from presenting the smiling
appearance which characterizes the basin bearing its
name. It stands on a flat, barren plain, where grow
a few melancholy-looking stunted trees, one or two of
which shade the back walls of the building : a little
brook of bluish-looking water, the fountain-head of
which is not far off, gives the name of Arroyo Zarco
(blue rivulet) to the hacienda. A large square court,
ornamented on its four sides with stone arches like the
cloisters of a convent, forms a kind of vestibule to the
apartments of the family. The rooms devoted to trav
elers are under these galleries. Stables, large enough
to contain with ease a whole regiment of cavalry, make
up two or three other courts. It was the only place
at which I could put up within six leagues, and here
I hoped to find the travelers I was in quest of, pro
vided I had not taken the wrong road.
"We have come thirty-two leagues since yester
day," said Cecilio, taking my bridle, with a sigh, "and
if your lordship persist in continuing the pursuit, per
haps it will only be prudent and advisable if I return

I VISIT THE STABLES.  AN ARRIVAL. 135
to Mexico to dissipate the uneasiness that will proba
bly arise there on your account."
" The duty of a good servant is to accompany his
master every where," was my reply ; and, going up to
the stable-boy, I began to put some questions to him
regarding the travelers who had arrived before us.
From him I learned that about forty travelers had
stopped at the hacienda in the afternoon, and, for want
of better information, I was obliged to content myself
by a personal inspection of the stables. I ought to
have gone there at first without making any inquiries ;
and, as there was still some daylight, I directed my
steps to the courts. A great number of horses were
munching their provender in their stalls, and, from the
joyful eagerness with which they ate, I could see that
they had come a long distance ; but I could hardly
contain myself for joy when I distinguished side by
side, like two faithful companions, the iron-gray and
the peach-blossom. This was but the beginning of
success ; for, to complete the discovery, I must ex
amine nearly sixty travelers, for there was almost that
number of horses in the stables. This, to speak the
truth, was almost impracticable — dangerous, perhaps,
in one respect, and ridiculous in another.
As I was going along the lobby which led to my
room, where I intended to rest a short time previous
to resuming the pursuit, a coach, drawn by eight mules,
and escorted by three horsemen armed with muskets
and sabres, came rattling into the court-yard. The ar
rival of a carriage at a Mexican inn is always an event
of some importance ; it bespeaks travelers of distinc
tion, or, better still, the presence of females, whom,
though they may not perhaps be young, the excite
ment of travel invests with a thousand illusory charms.

136 A MEXICAN BEAUTY.
While the three horsemen who formed the escort, and
the two coachmen who conducted the team, were wrang
ling with the huesped, the court all the time filled with
strange figures, one of the horsemen alighted and ad
vanced respectfully to open the carnage door. A man
of a certain age descended first, a younger person fol
lowed, and, before any one had time to offer her their
hand, a young lady hurried out after them. She wore
a costume adopted by several rich rancheras when
traveling, an attire which suits equally well the car
riage or the side-saddle. She carried in her hand a
hat with a broad brim ; and her manga, richly orna
mented with silk velvet and gold lace, could not hide
entirely her fine flexible figure, and bare, sunburned
arms. Her uncovered head left exposed her beautiful
black hair ; and her eyes, as black, and not less brill
iant, gazed around in the free bold style peculiar to
Mexican women. She seemed evidently seeking for
some one in the group that surrounded her ; but when
she saw the unknown faces which greeted her, she veil
ed them modestly under her eyelids.
Night came on, and the young lady had retired to
one of the chambers of the hacienda when another
traveler entered the court-yard. The new-comer was
a young man, evidently about five or six-and-twenty,
tall and' well made. Though poorly clad, his dress
was unstudiously elegant, and a fine black mustache
heightened the dignity of his appearance. The pre
dominant expression of his countenance was at once
haughty and sad, but his face was remarkable at times
for a singularly winning sweetness. A little mando
lin hung round his neck, and at the pommel of his
saddle dangled an old rusty rapier. The lean and
somewhat scraggy horse he rode was followed by an-

THE UNKNOWN CAA-ALIER.— JOY AND SORROW. 137
other ready saddled and bridled. I could not help
feeling a touch of pity for this poor young man with
the melancholy face. The famine-stricken appearance
of both horses and master showed but too well the
hardships which they had endured in common — long
journeys executed upon little or no food, and entire
days passed probably without sustenance of any kind.
Like the other travelers, the cavalier called the hues
ped ; but, instead of addressing him in a loud voice,
he stooped from his saddle and whispered in his ear.
The huesped, in reply, shook his head ; a cloud passed
over the face of the unknown, he colored slightly, look
ed sorrowfully at the unharnessed carriage, twitched
his bridle, and left the hacienda.
It was now time for me, however, to look after my
own business. The joy of Cecilio, when he found that
the two horses of our travelers were in the stables of
the inn, was changed into despair when I communi
cated to him my orders. As I could not interrogate
sixty travelers, I ordered him to saddle our horses at
midnight, and station himself along with me in the
court-yard near the gate. In this way not a single
traveler could leave the place at any hour of the night
without my knowledge. This point arranged, I left
Cecilio plunged in melancholy reflection at the pros
pect of a night to be passed in the open air, and hast
ened to the kitchen, which, according to the custom of
the country, served also for a dining-room.
In this vast hall, travelers of every kind — traders,
military men, arrieros, and servants, were seated round
a number of tables placed near the fire. I sat down
like the rest, and, during the whole time of my meal,
kept my ears open to catch the conversation that was
going on. I did not, however, pay much attention to

138 A LITTLE LIGHT. — DISAPPOINTMENT.
it, as it consisted only of stories of robbers, storms,
impassable torrents — favorite topics of conversation
with all travelers. Weary at last of listening to a
series of questions and answers in which there was
nothing interesting, I asked the landlady, in a loud
voice, about the two horses, the colors of which I men
tioned, that were then in the stable. I was more for
tunate at first than I hoped. I learned that one of
the individuals was the Senor Don Tomas Verdugo,
who had arrived about an hour before me ; but, being
pressed for time, he only waited till he got a relay of
horses, and then departed, leaving at the hacienda the
two horses he had brought with him till his next ar
rival. " Although it seems strange that you can have any
business with him," added the landlady, " I know
that he will stay two days at Celayo, and you will
find him at the Meson de Guadalupe, where he is ac
customed to put up."
I was very anxious to elicit some more information,
but the wary hostess kept herself very reserved, and I
quitted the kitchen very much disappointed to learn
that I had still a forty leagues' ride before meeting my
mysterious visitor, but delighted to find that I knew
his name, and had a certain aim to pursue. After
countermanding my order to Cecilio, as it was not late
— and sleep is a long time in visiting a stony couch,
especially when one is very much fatigued — I went
and sat down at the outer gate of the hacienda, a few
paces from the high road.
The country round lay as still and silent as if it
had been midnight, and the moon shone brightly over
head. In the horizon the hills began to put on their
nocturnal russet. Upon the whitened plain, the moist-

THE GUITAR PLAYER. 139
ure from the earth, condensed by the coldness of the
night, looked in the distance like a tranquil lake, and
from among the vapor towered aloft some aloes which
grow upon this rocky soil. In this mournful solitude,
in an inhospitable country, where a thousand dangers
surround the traveler, especially when he is a foreign
er, my present enterprise appeared for the first time in
its true light — a perilous folly. For the first time,
also, since my departure from Mexico, my heart failed
me, and I was almost on the point of retracing my
steps, when, as I was taking, as I fancied, a last look
at the scene, I thought I heard, amid the stillness ot
the night, the distant sounds of a guitar. This came,
probably, from a party of muleteers who had bivou
acked at some distance, or some groom who was play
ing to his fellows in one of the inn stables. Without
stirring, I listened to the strains broken by the dis
tance, when gradually, out of the stillness, a vocal ac
companiment stole along on the night air. Owing to
the profound silence that prevailed, I easily made out
the words of the song ; it was a Spanish Romancero ;
but the musician, through some odd fancy, had accom
panied it with a refrain, consisting of some by-words
very much in use among the Mexican people. This
singularity raised in me a desire to see the player. At
a short distance from the hacienda, and at the foot of
a low hill which overtopped it, I observed the flickering
light of a fire. One side of the singer's face was bright
ly illuminated by the blaze, and near him, two horses,
tied together by a long cord, were cropping the scanty
grass which grew on that stony soil. I advanced qui
etly, so as not to interrupt the unknown ; but the
noise of my footsteps betrayed me, and the music
stopped all at once. The stranger rose hurriedly;

140 WHO GOES THERE?
the graze of a sword which he was unsheathing struck
my ear. The adventure was becoming less pleasant
than -I had anticipated. I stopped, then advanced
again ; and, by the light of the fire, I distinguished
the young man whom I had seen in the court-yard of
the inn, but whom I httle expected to find again so
near me.
" Who goes there ?" he exclaimed in Spanish, and
in a pure Castilian accent.
'^A friend!" I cried; "but put up your rapier; I
am alone and unarmed."
The moon lighted up the surrounding objects so
clearly that the Spaniard was convinced that I had
spoken the truth, and he returned it to its sheath.
"Pardon my indiscretion, Senor Cavalier," I said,
advancing into the illuminated circle ; "I have been
drawn to you, I must say, only by a motive of curi
osity. If I am not deceived, you are, like myself, a
foreigner, and, as such, almost a friend."
In spite of my politeness, the stranger's features still
kept an air of haughty defiance. He seated himself,
however, and invited me, with a wave of his hand, to
do the same. I did so without ceremony.
"I am a Spaniard, it is true," answered my new
companion, haughtily ; " but, throughout the whole of
America, is not a Spaniard at home ? It is now my
turn to ask pardon of you for deeming you a spy sent
by-" The Spaniard stopped all at once.
" By whom ?" I inquired.
"You are welcome," said the unknown, without re
plying. He accepted a cigar which I offered him, and
we began to smoke with all the gravity which charac
terizes Indian warriors round a council fire. By the

THE YOUNG SPANIARD.  A CONFIDANT. 141
light of the moon, aided by that of the fire, I could
easily see, what I had before noticed, that the hard
privations which the Spaniard had endured had left in
effaceable traces of mental suffering on his brow, but
without altering in the least his noble physiognomy.
" Did you compose those verses yourself," I asked,
" which I have so indiscreetly interrupted, and whose
originality has struck me so much ?"
" No ; I only adapted them to an air of my own
composition for an affair which it would be too tedi
ous to relate to you."
There was evidently an attempt at concealment in
this reply, which whetted my curiosity. I resolved to
make a confidant of the young Spaniard by telling him
the object of my journey, and the many checks I had
experienced since my departure from Mexico.
" Our positions are not dissimilar," said the Span
iard, when I had done. "Like you, I am pursuing a
nameless object ; but thank God that you have been
saved from the dangers that I have undergone."
" Tell me about them," I said. " I like a story
told in the open air — at night above all, and in the
light of a fire like this."
"Be it so," said the Spaniard. "I shall begin by
telling you that I am a Biscayan and a nobleman ; not
by election, like most of my compatriots, but descend
ed from a long line of ancestors, who recognize Lope
Chouria as the chief of their ancient clan. My name
is Don Jaime de Villalobos. I bear another name here
for common use. My mother has the first rank in my
affection, then my father, and lastly my country. You
now know me, Sehor Cavalier. I am now about to
tell you of the affair in which I am at present en
gaged."

142 THE Y6UNG SPANIARD'S STORY.
The slight air of superciliousness with which he be
gan his story was not displeasing to me ; it was like
a continuation of the Romancero of which the young
nobleman had been singing a verse a short time be
fore. He continued with more simplicity.
" Unfortunately, I was born poor, though of noble
blood. More than once during my infancy have I
been awakened from sleep by the rude ice-wind which
whistled without obstruction through the ruined man
or-house in which my mother and I dwelt. As a com
pensation, God gave me a good appetite, which made
me forget the cold. I shot up apace ; my noble birth
interdicted me from all manual labor and servile em
ployment ; and to leave my mother, who was now
growing old, and take service in the army, was a step
which was not in accordance with my inclination.
However, I could not long remain a stranger to the
civil war which was then raging in the Basque Prov
inces. Don Carlos, you are perhaps aware, often for
got to pay his officers and soldiers, and all that I gain
ed in his service was the honor of being a creditor of
his noble highness. Returning to my maternal abode,
I was grieved to find it more dilapidated than ever,
and to feel still more the anguish which rent my moth
er's heart, for I saw her sinking day after day under
the double burden of old age and poverty. One even
ing a peddler came and demanded hospitality of us,
and as he only asked for shelter, we granted it. His
wandering life had enabled him to pick up all sorts
of news, and I learned from him that one of our
neighbors had made a wealthy marriage in New
Spain. " ' What a capital thing it would be,' said he, ' if a
young nobleman like you could be so lucky in that

THE YOUNG SPANIARD'S STORY. 143
land of gold and silver, where the ambition of all the
women is summed up in the couplet,
" ' Canrisas de Britana,*
Y maridos de Esparla.'
In my present position a rich marriage was the only
resource left me, and I resolved to go to the New World
and seek my fortune. I communicated my hopes to
my mother. The payment of a debt gave me the means
of procuring a passage in a ship from Bilboa ; and full
of hopes of being able to bring back a fortune to my
mother, which was my only ambition, I set sail. I
arrived at Vera Cruz a year ago, and visited the church
es assiduously, the only place where the fair inhabit
ants delight to show themselves, but not one deigned
to give me the slightest countenance. At night in the
deserted streets I watched long, but to no purpose, for
none appeared. I knew well that if I did not announce
my presence under a window, I ran a risk of spending
my nights as fruitlessly as my days. I had then re
course to music, and purchased a mandolin. Unluck
ily, though a passable musician, I was not poet enough
to composfe a good serenading song, and was forced to
tack on to an old Romancero a piece of a wretched
ballad that I remembered — the miserable bit of dog
gerel which had incited me to quit the old manor-
house. I was engaged in singing that when you in
terrupted me."
The Spaniard here began to smoke with the air of
a man who is resolved to do his duty conscientiously.
" And you are not much older than a boy," said
I, much surprised at the abrupt conclusion of Don
Jaime's story. Chemises from Brittany,
And husbands from Spain.

144 BEHIND THE AGE.  A MEAGRE SUPPER.
" An old maid, a sort of duenna, who had worn lin
en of Brittany for many years, had no objection to me
on that score. You understand my object in coming
here was to get a yOung, rich, and beautiful wife. Had
the duenna been rich, for my mother's sake I would
have married her, but she was neither rich nor young,
and had never been pretty."
" 'Tis a thousand pities," said I; "you are half a
century behind, Senor Don Jaime. Fifty years ago
every chance would have been in favor of a cavalier
of your figure and appearance. Now I am afraid that
time is past."
An almost imperceptible smile broke upon the lips
of the Biscayan, but I could not guess whether it was
caused by the compliment I had paid him, or pity for
the incredulity I had manifested.
" Since you are in the indulgent vein, and I in the
indiscreet one, ISenor Don Jaime, allow me to ask you
this last question — Have you supped to-night ?"
The brow of the Spaniard lowered. I feared I had
abused rights acquired on such a slender acquaintance
as mine ; but his noble self-respect never gave way.
He was, besides, too much of a gentleman to blush
because he was poor.
" I have," replied he, with a gracious smile. " May
I have the honor of offering you a portion of my sup
per?" The Spaniard tendered me a cigarette.
"What! was that all your supper?"
" A cigarette ! fie on it ; it is, in truth, somewhat
too meagre a repast for the last descendant of the
Counts of Biscay. I have consumed more than a doz
en of them, and have not made a very good supper."
This seemed to have exhausted the patience of the

HOSPITALITY. 145
poor nobleman. He said nothing for a few moments,
and then, with an air of calm dignity, exclaimed,
" Senor Cavalier, I have granted you the only thing
it was in my power to bestow in this world — my hos
pitality, such as it is. Enjoy yourself at my fire as
much as you please ; but, after a hard day's journey,
you will pardon me if I betake myself to rest. May
God bless and protect you!"
The Biscayan threw some sticks upon the fire, wrap
ped himself up in his cloak, and, after bidding me
good-night with a wave of his hand, lay down. I
threw my eyes mechanically around. More fortunate
than their master, and half hidden by the icy fog of
evening, the two horses cropped the short, withered
grass which grew on the stony plain. My heart swell
ed, and a deep feeling of respectful sympathy took
possession of me at seeing this deep misery so nobly
supported. " Senor Don Jaime," said I, with a broken voice,
" I thank you for the hospitality you have shown me,
and, in return, I should be both proud and happy if
you would take the use of my chamber in the venta."1
The young traveler started and sat up ; his eyes
sparkled in his pale face. He seemed to hesitate for
a moment ; he then held out his hand.
" I accept your offer," he said ; " you will do me
a service I shall never forget. I must now tell you,
in confidence, that I had vainly solicited that accom
modation from the huesped, for which I was too poor
to pay, but which on this night, and this night only,
I would thankfully have paid for with my heart's
blood." This reply was an additional mystery to me ; but
I had now become Don Jaime's host, and that pre-
G

146 SUPPER FOR TWO.
vented me from asking any questions. We took the
two horses by the bridle, and, without exchanging a
word, returned to the venta.

CHAPTER III.
The Elopement.

After my new companion had been installed in my
chamber, I went out under pretense of seeing that the
horses were taken care of, and ordered Ceciho to fetch
from the kitchen a supper sufficient for two persons.
The Biscayan, after some ceremony, seemed quite will
ing to accompany me in my repast. I had already
made a good supper, but, for politeness' sake, I took a
small portion to bear him company, my guest mean
while doing justice to the viands, and quite lost in
wonder at my abstemiousness.
" How can I help it ?" said I, in explanation ; "this
is my first run through the country, and I have not
yet got accustomed to their infernal cookery."
And while Cecilio, standing behind my chair, open
ed his eyes wide on hearing me say that I had but
newly come into the country, I could not help ad
miring the prodigious appetite that had been develop
ed by a fast of twenty-four hours.
"Now," said I, when the dishes were all cleared,
"if the neighborhood of a young and charming lady,
whose chamber is next to mine, does not hinder you
from sleeping, I fancy you will do well to imitate me."
And I muffled myself in my cloak, and lay down on
the floor.
"Not a bad idea," said the Spaniard. "But, be-

DISAPPEARANCE OF THE SPANLARD. 147
fore going to sleep, perhaps you would like to hear an
air on my mandolin."
"Use your freedom, but pray pardon me if the
melody set me asleep."
In spite of the hard and cold couch on which I was
reclining, in a short time I heard nothing but a con
fused murmur of broken notes, and then consciousness
forsook me. I awoke with a start, under the impres
sion that a, strong chilling draught was setting full
upon me. The long, thin candle which had been
stuck to the wall of the chamber was throwing its
last dull, smoky glare around. The Spaniard had
disappeared. I was alone ; and the chamber door,
which had been left open, had allowed the cold night
air to enter and awake me. A dead silence reigned
through the hacienda, broken only by the distant
crowing of the cock. I listened, surprised at the ab
rupt disappearance of my companion, and rose and
shut the door, and, while doing so, threw a hasty
glance into the court-yard. From amid the darkness
I thought I discerned two black profiles half hidden
by a column. One of them was that of the Biscayan,
whose voice I could distinguish, although he spoke
low ; the other was unknown to me ; but in the sweet
tone, and in the accents, though prudently concealed,
I could not doubt for a moment but that it was a
woman. I had seen enough. I repaired to the door
and pushed it open. At the grating of the rusty
hinges, a slender form disappeared like a shadow be
hind a distant pillar. The Biscayan came up quick
ly to me.
"No apologies," said he; "you have, without
knowing it, made yourself master of a secret which
would have been yours sooner or later. It is better,

148 DIFFICULTIES IN THE WAY.
then, that you know it now. Besides, I was just
speaking of you. Is it not to you I owe one of the
happiest moments of my life ? Have I not still need
of a new proof of that friendship which henceforth
will be so valuable to me ?"
Don Jaime then, in a few words, gave me the
particulars of a romantic attachment which had arisen
six months before in the shady walks of the Alame
da ; that, owing to the want of fortune on his part,
a union could not be effected ; that all attempts at
flight had been defeated by watchful vigilance, which
had never been relaxed till the time when the father
of her he loved for her beauty alone, before knowing
of her wealth, set out to visit one of his haciendas in
the interior of the country. To assist in the attempt
at elopement, Don Jaime had brought two horses with
him ; but at the third stage, at Arroyo Zarco, the poor
young man, who had followed the carriage at a dis
tance, was deprived of this last resource, as the hues
ped would not admit him within the walls of the
building. Thanks to our lucky meeting, he had ob
tained admittance, and was now quite ready for a
start to Guanajuato. Once there, Don Jaime intend
ed to intrust the daughter of the haciendero to the
care of a distant relative of his, who would conceal her
in a convent till, the pursuit being slackened and the
marriage concluded, he could set sail for Spain. Un
luckily, a new obstacle presented itself. How could
we quit the inn without awakening the suspicions of
the huesped, and how hide the direction of our flight
and keep up appearances ? Don Jaime had thought
that I might be able to accompany them, leaving my
valet at the venta, while we accommodated ourselves
with his horse. Donna Luzecita (the lady's name)

THE LADY'S SILENT ELOQUENCE. 149
could pass easily for Cecilio, and the landlord, seeing
as many pass out as had entered in, could conceive
no suspicion.
The Biscayan regarded me with a look of such
melting eloquence, that I was on the point of throw
ing myself, heart and soul, into this new adventure ;
but, on reflection, I deemed it proper to refuse. Don
Jaime sighed, and left me. He returned in a few
minutes, accompanied by the young lady. A rebozo,
worn in the Mexican manner, was passed round her
head. Through the folds of her silk veil you could
discern a bandeau of jet black hair encircling a brow
empurpled with a modest blush, and under the arch
of her black eyebrows two eyes modestly veiled by
their long lashes.
" What should I not owe you, Senor Cavalier," said
she, in that harmonious voice whose silvery tone had
so charmed me some minutes before, "if you would
consent to help us in our extremity ! At any rate, a
refusal will never change my unalterable resolution."
I must confess that her look and simple words had
almost brought me over to her side. I only stam
mered out some commonplace about duty and pru
dence. "Your presence," added the Spaniard, "can pre
vent one misfortune ; for I love her so much that,
rather than see her torn from me, I would stab her to
the heart."
Proud and grateful for this burst of passion in her
lover, the lady raised her eyes, which had been hither
to cast to the ground, and gazed steadily at the Span
iard with one of those sharp, piercing looks of love
which her Creole impetuosity could not retain. It
was thus she desired to be loved. Then, holding out

150 THE LADY PREVAILS ; I CONSENT.
to me one of those hands which God seems to have
modeled expressly for Mexican women — "You con
sent, don't you ?" said she.
Every moment was precious. Twelve o'clock had
struck, and I could not pain her by another refusal.
To carry our saddles and valises to the stables, and
prepare the horses for the road, was the work of an in
stant. The darkness in the stables was very great,
and it was only by the light from our cigars that we
could distinguish our steeds. In the court-yard the
two coachmen were sleeping near their mules.
"Halloo ! friend," cried one of them, yawning, "are
you for the road so early ?"
"I have a long way to go," I replied; "but you
needn't stir ; the cock has not yet crown."
The snoring of the coachmen, who had dropped
asleep an instant afterward, was soon mixed with the
chorus of noises that proceeded from the stable, and
by groping about we managed to finish our business
without any new interruptions. We arranged that
the better of the two horses which Don Jaime had
brought with him should be reserved for the use of the
daughter of the haciendero. One thing only remained
to be done — to instruct Cecilio in the part he was to
play in our absence. I went to his bed-chamber.
His organ of wonder had been largely exercised during
the night, but the surprise which now awaited him
was still more astonishing than any of the others.
The poor fellow was sleeping with his hands clenched,
when I, with some difficulty, awoke him.
"Wilt thou* listen?" said I to him, when he was
fully awakened. " Thou must sleep soundly till ten
o'clock in the morning. If thou art unable to do so,
* In Mexico it is the custom for masters to " thou" their valets.

LUZECITA 'S DEVOTION. 151
at least remain in thy chamber. Reasons of the most
important nature demand that thy presence in the
venta be not even suspected till that hour. Thou
must then slip unperceived out of the hacienda ; and,
in order that thou may'st do that the more easily, I
am going to take away thy horse. Take the road to
Celaya, and rejoin me at the venta of the Soledad,
where I shall wait for thee."
"I shall execute your lordship's orders," said Ce
cilio, bowing sadly, and seemingly quite disconcerted
at this new inconvenience.
My two companions were in the saddle on my re
turn. Don Jaime appeared to shudder in the cold
night air ; and his beautiful companion, her head con
cealed by her thick silk veil, and her shoulders covered
with a manga with the lining outside, seemed com
pletely disguised except to a very experienced eye.
The convulsive agitation of her bosom, however, and
her stifled sobs, betrayed her violent emotion. I well
understood the sentiments which agitated her, and I
could not help casting a melancholy glance in the di
rection of the chamber in which the father of Donna
Luz slept. In that trying moment, the Castilian gen
erosity, so inherent in Don Jaime's character, showed
itself in a remarkable manner.
"Luzecita," he said, in a choking voice, "you have
not yet advanced too far to recede — it is your father
you are leaving."
Recalled by the voice of Don Jaime to the thought
that was uppermost in her mind, the lady trembled,
and the two for a time seemed alone in the world.
Taking the hand of the one she loved, and carrying
it to her lips with the passionate submission of an
Eastern slave,

152 WE STEAL OUT OF THE HACIENDA.
" I have no father now," she said, in a voice at once
firm and sweet ; " lead on."
On hearing this my last scruples vanished, and we
set out. We traversed the court in silence. The
huesped was sleeping on the ground close to the gate.
I touched him with the point of my lance without
speaking ; he started up with the mechanical prompt
ness of a man accustomed to be roused at all hours of
the night.
" For the road already ?" on receiving the reckon
ing. "And this cavalier also, with his two horses?"
"Yes," I replied ; "this cavalier, my valet, and my-.
self, must be at the hacienda of San Francisco before
daylight." "A pleasant journey," he cried, on opening the gate,
which soon closed behind us. We at first followed
the road to Mexico, so as to tally with the false direc
tion I had given to the huesped ; we then turned bri
dle all at once in the direction of Celaya, making a
wide detour to avoid passing near the hacienda. A
damp, icy fog covered the plain as far as the eye could
reach ; the night-wind tore aside the curtain of mist
from time to time, and showed us the surrounding
country covered with hoar-frost. A few paces distant
appeared the watch-fire of the Biscayan: it looked
like a star just about to expire. Our horses made
their way rapidly through the mist, the breath that is
sued from their nostrils playing about their heads in
immense volumes. Although not sharing in the fever
ish impatience of my two companions, I could not help
feeling a kind of emotion when I compared the uncer
tain issue of the event into which they had blindly
rushed with the thick vapors which enwrapped in
darkness the road and the objects around. We were

NO PURSUERS BEHIND. 153
not long in placing a considerable distance between us
and the venta. We then slackened our pace ; a gray
ish glimmer began to light up the objects around us :
in the east, and behind the hills, which were still en
veloped in mist, a few pale rays heralded the approach
of the sun.
" Let us stop here a minute," I said to the Biscay
an, " to breathe our horses. In the mean time, I shall
alight to listen if there are any pursuers behind us."
We had now covered a distance of almost eight
leagues without exchanging a word, this being one of
those cases in which a full heart places a restraint
upon the tongue. With my ear close to the ground,
I listened anxiously to catch the sound of the approach
of horsemen : no noise, no echo came from the earth.
We were in a vast desert plain. The slight agitation
I had felt during our long gallop was succeeded by a
soothing calm ; I seated myself on the grass, and in
vited my companions to do the same. This moment
of passing security brought out a burst of sentiment
which had been restrained during the long gallop. As
the hoar-frost immediately disappears when the first
beams of the sun have reddened the grassy plain, so
anxiety fled from the hearts of the two lovers, and
gave place to confidence and delirious exultation.
Scarcely had the lady alighted, than, obeying an irre
sistible impulse of her Mexican nature, she strained in
her arms him who would henceforth stand to her in
place of the whole world. The faded, melancholy face
of the Spaniard seemed all at once lighted up with an
imation ; but the rapture inspired by these caresses
was too much for him ; he turned pale, staggered, and
fell to the ground with his eyes closed. Donna Luz
rent the air with her shrieks.
G2

154 AN EXCHANGE. — A SOUVENIR.
"Don't be afraid," I said; "joy never kills."
I laid him gently upon the grass ; Donna Luz knelt
by him, and bedewed him with tears. Don Jaime
soon revived and came to himself, while the young
Creole, turning about, hid her face in her hands with
that strange mixture of modesty and passion which
lent an additional charm to her beauty.
"You must come with us no farther," said the Bis
cayan to me. " You have risked enough in our serv
ice, and I will abuse your kindness no longer ; but,
before parting, I have another favor to ask of you : it
is that you take my cloak in exchange for yours; it
will aid my disguise more effectually."
I consented to his request.
" You will gain little by the bargain," said Don
Jaime, with a smile ; " but you have done me a great
service. Since you are not bound in any particular
direction, you may perhaps come to Guanajuato. I
shall remain a fortnight there, and you can easily find
me out, and I shall be but too happy to express to
you once more the gratitude which I shall feel for you
all my life."
The parting moment came. We assisted the lady
to her saddle. Don Jaime then mounted. Untying
the mandolin which hung at his saddle-bow,
"Take this," he cried, "and keep it as a remem
brance of me. For a long time this instrument and
hope were all my possessions ; now, instead of hope,
God has given me the reality."
The tears stood in his eyes. He shook me by the
hand a second time. Donna Luz paid me with a
smile more than she owed me, and the pair galloped
away. I followed them with my eye for a long time
involuntarily, thinking that there was much between

WE REACH THE VENTA OF THE SOLEDAD. 155
the cup and the lip. The morning mist soon hid
them from my sight.

CHAPTER IV.
Florencio Planillas, the Mexican Miner.
Left alone in the midst of the desert plain of Caz-
adero, I remained, I must confess, a considerable time
in a state of great uncertainty. Being far distant from
any habitation, I was debating within my own mind
whether I should not turn bridle and regain the haci
enda of Arroyo Zarco ; but the sun shone so cheerily
upon the plain, and the morning air was so refreshing,
that my discouragement and hesitation disappeared
like the mist upon the hills, which had now put on
their usual bluish appearance. I continued my route.
A gallop of barely two leagues would take me to the
venta of the Soledad, where I had ordered Cecilio to
await my coming. The landlord, on seeing me come
in with a guitar slung across my shoulder, took me
for a music-mad tourist that had come in the very nick
of time to amuse him, and spoke of his love for music
with the air of a man who was desirous to hear my
performance. I refused, however, point blank, and
hastened to take possession of the most retired room
in the venta. Ceciho did not make his appearance
till nightfall. He had nothing new to tell me. At
midday, when he escaped from the hacienda, there was
not the slightest stir. This information calmed me
about the fugitives, and freed me from anxiety on
their account. I resolved to pass the night in the inn.
My poor valet, who had traveled on foot a distance of

156 DON TOM AS NOT YET OVERTAKEN.
thirty miles, was hardly able to stand upright ; and,
for my own part, I needed to husband my strength,
that I might resume on the following day that pursuit
which seemed to be getting interminable.
Next morning, at an early hour, we were in the sad
dle and on the road to Celaya, where we expected to
meet Don Tomas. It was a two days' journey, and
these two days were marked with as many odd occur
rences as had signalized the first part of this singular
excursion. In all the inns at which we stopped Don
Tomas had preceded us only by a few hours. At last
I arrived at Celaya, and alighted at the Meson de
Guadalupe at the very moment that Cecilio was men
tally registering the seventy leagues we had traveled
since we left Mexico, with this consoling reflection,
however, that, according to the intelligence we had re
ceived, we were now approaching the end of our jour
ney. Unhappily, I was once more balked. At Ce
laya, as at Arroyo Zarco, I missed Don Tomas by
half an hour. Don Tomas, on leaving Celaya, had
taken the road to Irapuato. We set out for that place.
In the solitary inn of this small market-town no one
had seen him. They knew him, however, for the host
told me that Don Tomas owned and inhabited a soli
tary house at the foot of the Cerro del Gigante (Giant
peak). " Where is the Cerro del Gigante ?" I asked, not
without an apprehension that it might be a hundred
leagues away.
"It is the highest peak of the range of mountains,"
replied my host, " which overhangs Guanajuato. If
you set out from here at dawn of day, you will be
there in the evening."
Irapuato is ninety-two leagues from Mexico. To

THE CUTTHROAT GULLY. 157
reach Guanajuato I had still twenty leagues to travel.
It occurred to me that Guanajuato was the town to
which the Biscayan nobleman had conveyed Donna
Luz. Besides the certainty of there meeting Don To
mas, I had the hope of learning the fate of a man in
whom I already felt an interest as intense as if he had
been an old friend. This double consideration de
termined me.
"Well," said I to Cecilio, "we must go and wait
upon Don Tomas in his own house, which he seems
in a great hurry to reach."
The road to Guanajuato winds through a ravine of
interminable length called Canada de Marfil, and it
was far on in the afternoon before we reached that city,
whose steep streets we traversed rapidly in the direc
tion of the Cerro del Gigante. The road that we fol
lowed on leaving the town was cut with ravines and
full of ruts. I was not long in regretting that I had
entangled myself in such a defile as this, especially as
night was coming on, and we were on an unknown
road. As we advanced the scenery became wilder and
more desolate ; the noise made by the runnels of water
which bounded over the rocks on either side, and the
cawing of troops of crows which hovered over head,
were the only sounds which broke the stillness around.
" Ah ! senor," said Cecilio, approaching me when I
had halted for a moment to recall to my recollection
the instructions I had received, "this gully seems a
real cutthroat place, and I hope nothing worse will be
fall us than wandering all night long in this labyrinth
of mountains, where the cold cuts into one's marrow."
I was not insensible to the cold which began to pre
vail in this deep valley, and I threw over my shoul
ders the manga that the Biscayan had given me in ex-

158 THE CUTTHROAT GULLY.
change for my cloak. I began to share in my servant's
fears ; but I judged it better to keep my anxiety to
myself, and continued to advance, certain besides of
being in the right road, although it was becoming rap
idly darker and darker. Abrupt precipitous rocks,
with whitened crests, rose before and on each side of
us. Already the mountains were throwing their long
shadows across the valleys ; the evening mist was
mounting in light flakes from the deep bottoms in
which the brooks purled to the mountain tops that the
sun was touching with his departing beams ; and the
Giant Peak, which seemed to me so near, rose always
at the same distance, encircled with a purple halo,
overtopping the neighboring heights with an appear
ance of gloomy majesty, as if placed there as the guard
ian of the mysterious treasures inclosed in the bow
els of the Sierra.
"You know the proverb, master," continued Cecil
io : " those who go to seek wool often come back
shorn. Something tells me that we have got our
selves into a terrible mess. Who can this Don To
mas be whom every body on the road knows, but
whom we can never catch ? Some bandit chief, I fear,
who has his own reasons for not showing himself; and
I think," he continued, in a low tone, "that these
gorges are not so solitary as they seem. Mother of
Jesus ! did you not see the gleam of a musket-barrel
among those branches up there ?"
I carried my eyes involuntarily in the direction
pointed out by Cecilio ; it was nothing but the wind
agitating the thick branches which crowned the crest
of a precipice, and I could not see far on account of
the fog. I affected to laugh at my servant's fears,
when I thought I heard a sound resembling the click

NARROW ESCAPE OF MY LIFE. 159
of a gun-lock. Our horses could advance but slowly,
owing to the rocks with which the bottom of the ra
vine was covered. I quickened my pace, however.
All at once a flash burst forth over our heads, the whiz
of a ball shot past our ears, and the report of a gun
echoed through the ravine, accompanied by a dull
sound, as if the ball had been flattened against the
rocks. "Ah! the scoundrel," cried a voice, which seemed
to come from the top of the precipice, "I have miss
ed him."
My-first impulse was to close my eyes, in the ex
pectation of hearing another report. An instant pass
ed in terrible anxiety, during which the echoes rever
berated among the rocks. I then raised my head to
seek for the place from which the shot had been fired,
but the fog lay so thick on the heights that I could
distinguish nothing. A strip torn off the pennon of
my lance, which was within two feet of my body, clear
ly proved that I had been aimed at.
"''Tis lucky I escaped that shot," said I to Cecilio;
" but come, let us climb the rocks on both sides, and
lay hold on the scoundrel who is seemingly so sorry
that he has missed."'
" But," cried Cecilio, who was not at all pleased
with the task I had assigned him, "there is no indi
cation whatever that they aimed at you ; besides, I
won't leave you. It is the duty of a good servant to
be always at his master's side."
I gained the top of the rocks before him. As far
as my range of vision extended, I saw nothing but
the distant hills deeply bathed in violet, a few fields
of maize whose heavy heads swung slowly backward
and forward, and some deep gorges in the Sierra, de-

160 MEXICAN COOLNESS AND EFFRONTERY.
noted by deeper tints of color. The country round
had a sad, melancholy look in the gray of the even
ing that was creeping over all. It would have been
imprudent to have turned, so I continued my march.
In a short time I perceived in the distance a building
of considerable size ; no smoke rose above the roof.
Indeed, it seemed quite deserted. It had probably
been at one time a work-shop. I was confirmed in
this opinion by the dilapidated state of the walls, and
the large holes in the tiling. Just when Cecilio was
alighting to assure himself that the place contained
no inhabitant, a horseman issued from a by-road, and
came galloping up with a carbine in his hand. He
stopped suddenly on seeing me, and continued to look
at me for some seconds with an air of fear and visible
distrust. All at once he burst into a loud roar of
laughter. "You are not, then, Remigio Vasquez?" he in
quired. " I don't know him," I replied.
"Ah ! Senor Cavalier, pardon me ; I fancied it was
Remigio Vasquez I was firing at."
Again the fellow laughed loudly, but added, in a
tone of regret,
" Caramba ! to say that I missed at twenty paces,
when I had covered you too ; but a sudden move
ment you made saved your life. Ah ! but I am in
deed sorry."
" Of having missed, no doubt. No more of that,
if you please. The hour and the place seem quite
suitable for my taking my revenge by blowing your
brains out."
' ' For what ?" cried he, slightly alarmed. ' ' I thought
you were my enemy ; I was deceived. I fired at, and

HOSPITALITY OF PLANILLAS. 161
missed you. The one quite compensates for the oth
er ; and, for my part, I would not harm you the least
in the world."
The unknown appeared so convinced by the force
of his own argument that I could not help laughing.
I then asked if I were far from the Cerro del Gigante.
"A good carbine could carry a ball there quite easi
ly ; but, from the windings of the ravine, it is a two
hours' march from here ; and, as the night is coming
on, and the road rather difficult to find in the dark, I
offer your lordship a night's lodging under my roof, to
show you that I bear no malice."
The dilapidated appearance of the house promised
only a very sorry shelter, but the offer seemed frankly
enough made, and I was, besides, one of that class of
unencumbered travelers with whom robbers only ex
change salutations on the road. I made no difficulty,
therefore, in accepting the offer, and dismounted. The
unknown led me through a vast hall, whose roof was
much broken in many parts, and, while he was assist
ing Cecilio to unsaddle the horses, I could see by the
tools lying about the place that I was in one of those
metallurgic work-shops {haciendas de beneficio) where
the silver extracted from the mines receives its last
treatment. My host was not long in returning ; he
lighted a miner's torch, and then told me to consider
myself at home. Misery seemed to have taken up its
abode in this ruined building, and I could not help
remarking to myself that there seemed little likeli
hood of getting here even the slightest refreshment.
I seated myself opposite to my host, and tried to listen
patiently to the explanations he was giving me about
the uses of various instruments which I had never
seen before ; but as time passed, and there seemed

162 MY ENTERTAINER.
to be no likelihood of any thing being placed on the
table, I said frankly,
"I am very hungry."
" So am I," he returned, gravely, without stirring.
I feared I had not been explicit enough.
"At what time do you ordinarily sup here? For
my part, I can sup at any hour of the evening when I
am as hungry as I am at present."
" Any hour is convenient enough for me ; but to
day I have had no supper."
This reply astonished me. Luckily, Cecilio had
supplied himself with some yards of dried meat.* I
was able then, our respective positions being reversed,
to offer a frugal repast to the singular amphitryon
with whom chance had brought me acquainted, and
he needed no pressing to make him accept it.
"It appears to me," I said, after we had finished,
"that there is a certain person called Remigio Vas
quez in the world who is far from being a friend of
yours ; what ill has he done you ?"
"None, till a little ago; and I fired at him (that
is, at you) to-day purely from precaution, and to pre
vent him from ruining me."
Florencio Planillas, that was my host's name, then
entered into long details about his own affairs. He
was one of those obstinate miners who have all their
lives struggled to grasp after merely visionary illu
sions, and who, like the unlucky gambler, fancy them
selves constantly on the point of becoming possess
ors of millions without ever being able to learn those
rude lessons of experience which their unhappy obsti
nacy prevents them from acquiring. His history was
* In some parts of Mexico butcher-meat is cut into strips, dried in
the sun, and sold by measure, like ribbons or cloth.

HE TEL1S HIS HISTORY. 163
that of many others. Once proprietor of a rich silver
mine, then of a flourishing hacienda de beneficio, he
had seen the thread of silver fail in the borrasca,* and
the want of capital had forced him to suspend his
metallurgic operations. According to Mexican cus
tom, a mine once abandoned becomes the property of
the person who proclaims the failure of the former pro
prietor. This proclamation was a perpetual source of
annoyance to Florencio Planillas both day and night.
His restless, perturbed spirit saw a rival in every one,
ready to deprive him of his property, and he had been
told that an individual named Remigio Vasquez had
arrived the night before at Guanajuato, with the avow
ed intention of profiting by the suspension of his works,
and claiming them as his own. It would prove a
rough blow to Florencio to be deprived of a property
which had enriched him before, and very probably
might do so again. The Mexicans are very generally
in the habit of deciding such cases by the knife. He
had therefore vowed the death of Remigio Vasquez.
" I never saw him," he added, on finishing his recital ;
"but his appearance has been so exactly described to
me that he can not escape. I spent this whole day
at Guanajuato trying to discover him, but in vain, and
on my return, deceived by the darkness, by a certain
vague resemblance you bore to him, and, above all, by
the cloak you wore, I thought you were the person
that had come to dispossess me of my rights, and it
was only on closer inspection that I discovered my
error. I do not say, however, that I am sorry I miss
ed you ; but after this I'll use the knife. El cuchillo
no suena ni truena (the knife does its work silently),
as my friend Tomas Verduzco says."
* An appellation given to a mine when it has become unprofitable.

164 DON TOMAS NO EGOIST.
" Verdugo, you mean," said I, interrupting him.
" Do you know him ?" cried Florencio, with a laugh.
" What a capital joke ! But you don't transact busi
ness with him, I think."
" What joke are you referring to ?"
"Dombre/ don't you know that his true name is
Verduzco, and that he is called Verdugo* (execution
er) because he is obliged sometimes to see justice done
to himself in what he calls his affairs of conscience ?"
This peculiarity in the character of the man on
whose heels I had been treading so closely was not
the most agreeable thing in the world, I must confess ;
but I wished to get some more information about him,
and accordingly inquired how long it had taken Don
Tomas to acquire this formidable surname.
"On my word," replied Florencio, "that's one of
those matters of which one does not like to keep a too
exact account — probably he does not even know him
self — but perhaps you will form a bad opinion of Don
Tomas from what I have told you. The Senor Ver
duzco is no egoist ; his neighbor may have the use
of his knife at a time ; and, provided you give him
solid reasons (with a strong emphasis on solid), he is
always ready to render One a service."
"The devil he is!" I cried. "Don Tomas must
be a most inestimable character, and I am quite im
patient to make his acquaintance."
In spite of this gasconade, the intense desire that
I had shown to see Don Tomas was dispelled as if by
magic ; but, having gone too far to recede, I determ
ined to make my way, as I had intended, to the Cerro
del Gigante. The night passed without any incident
occurring except that I was forced to lend my host a
* A sharp poniard.

WE SET OUT FOR THE CERRO. 165
part of my manga to stop up a hole in the roof that
admitted the cold, and I took leave of him in the morn
ing with many thanks for his munificent hospitality,
which had been shown by his appropriating to him
self three parts of my supper and the half of my cloak.
Moreover, not many hours before he had tried to shoot
me. I mounted, and proceeded in the direction of the
Cerro del Gigante. Armed with my lance, whose torn
pennon bore witness to the danger I had run, escorted
by Cecilio, and having the guitar of the Biscayan no
bleman thumping on my back, I bore no uncertain re
semblance to the wandering knight of La Mancha in
search of adventures, attended by his trusty squire.
This mission of mine was one of the most delicate
kind, for now I had no doubt whatever but that we
were on the traces of a Mexican bravo, and I had been
following, him for the last six days. I was quite con
vinced, however, that I had done nothing to get my
self involved with Don Tomas.
The bravi of Mexico, like their eompatriots in oth
er countries where this formidable profession is exer
cised, begin at first by putting those to death to whom
they become indebted at the gaming-table. It was,
then, a point of the very greatest importance to estab
lish my identity fully in the eyes of a fellow of this
stamp, as I might probably, if this were not done, get
a stab intended for some other person. This consid
eration deciding me above all, I repaired to the Cerro
del Gigante, and in a short time arrived at a very pret
ty house at the foot of the mountain. A purling brook,
shaded with sycamores, ran close by the door. My
host of the preceding night had described the place to
me too minutely to allow of my missing it. I ad-

166 A JOYFUL MEETING.
dressed myself to a groom, who was rubbing down a
beautiful horse at the gate, by inquiring if the Cavalier
Verduzco could be seen at present.
"No, senor," replied the man. "He had scarcely
arrived here last night ere he was sent on business of
the utmost importance to Guanajuato, which he can
scarcely finish in less than three days ; and when he
comes home, he may require to depart again imme
diately." "Where is he going next?" I asked.
"I don't know," said the man, dryly. I made no
more inquiries, wheeled my horse round, and rode off.

CHAPTER V.
Assassination of the young Spanish Noble.
On returning to the town, I inquired which of the
three or four hotels in Guanajuata was the cheapest,
convinced that it was only in one of that description
that the Biscayan was to be found. I was right in
my conjecture, for the first person I met on alighting
in the court-yard of the posada was Don Jaime de Vil-
lalobos. He was just going out when I presented my
self suddenly before him, and I had scarcely dismount
ed ere he pressed me in his arms, according to the
manner of his country. For my part, I listened with
interest to his adventures after our separation. He
told me that he had arrived at Guanajuato almost four
days before me, and that his utmost wishes had been
realized. A priest, who had been gained over by the
relative of Donna Luz, had married them without dif
ficulty, and since that time his young wife had been

the Spaniard's presentiments. 167
hidden in a convent, where he saw her every day, until
he could take such steps as would allow them to leave
Mexico. One circumstance only caused him a little
alarm : he believed that he met in the streets, the night
before, one of the servants who was in the train of his
wife's father at the venta of Arroyo Zarco.
" But as I fancy that I see every where the appear
ance of spies and robbers," he said, gayly, "it is more
than probable that I am deceived, and that they are
seeking me at a greater distance than where I really
am. And you," added he, "have you laid your hand
on Don Tomas Verdugo yet ?"
" No ; and, from all I have learned about him, I am
more anxious to avoid him now than I was to meet
him before." And I recounted my adventure in the
ravine with Florencio Planillas. "Your cloak," I
added, " served me a bad turn, for it is similar to one
that the informer against Florencio wears, one Remi
gio Vasquez."
At the name Don Jaime turned pale, and cried,
"What! was it Remigio Vasquez that the scoundrel
had in mind to shoot? and do they accuse him of a
crime which he never contemplated ? Ah ! my pre
sentiments have not deceived me."
"Why?""Remigio Vasquez is the name I bear here."
This unexpected revelation caused me to shudder.
Perhaps, even now, that villain, whose knife was at
every one's service, might have been sent upon the
Biscayan's track to satisfy the vengeance of the in
jured father. I told him what my opinion was upon
the matter, and insisted upon his staying within doors
for a few days; but the Spanish nobleman had now
recovered all his former courage.

168 A MEXICAN PULQUERIA.
"No," he said, " Luzecita waits me at the convent.
Not to go to see her would plunge her into the deep
est grief. No one can escape their destiny."
We talked together a short time longer. As he in
sensibly lapsed into a gloomy mood, I tried to jest
with him upon our actual position.
"As for me," I said, "I shall be more prudent than
you. I am going to bury myself in the deepest mine
I can find, and it will be a terrible thing if this hor
rid Verdugo meets me eighteen hundred feet below
ground." We separated, Don Jaime to the convent, and I to
visit one of the most easily accessible mines in the
neighborhood. As I was crossing the square on my
way to the outskirts of the town, I fancied I distin
guished the well-known face of Florencio Planillas at
the door of a pulqueria. Delighted at having this op
portunity of undeceiving him as to the intention of
Remigio Vasquez, or rather Don Jaime, I went up to
the door, in spite of the repugnance I have for these
Mexican cabarets, where both men and women sit
drinking that abominable liquor prepared from fer
mented pulque* Whether Florencio had seen, and
wished to avoid me, I know not ; at any rate, he dis
appeared into the shop. The life of Don Jaime doubt
less depended on the interview I was going to have
with Florencio. I stepped over some drunkards, quite
intoxicated, who were lying, clothed in rags, across the
doorway, and entered the pulqueria. What a fantas
tical appearance met my eye! The walls were cov
ered with frescoes of the most incredible nature, rep
resenting ancient grotesque personages, pictures of
* The sap of the aloe, which is first as sweet as honey, but by fer
mentation becomes stinking, sour, and heady.

THE OBFUSCATED DRUNKARD. 169
drunken brawls, of murder, of love, of giants, dwarfs,
and cavaliers, accompanied with the most startling de
vices, and all surmounted with this clinching inscrip
tion : {Hoy kepaga, manana sefia) — Pay now, credit
afterward. Large open vats, filled with a milky liq
uor, from which exhaled a horrible smell, were placed
all round the room, and the publican was busily en
gaged ladling it out with a calabash for his customers,
among whom I soon recognized Florencio.
"Ah! Senor Cavalier," cried he, advancing with
the glass in his hand, " allow me to offer you — "
" No, I am not thirsty ; but I have some good news
for you."
I tried then to tell him that he had been falsely in
formed when he had been told that the person who
was trying to dispossess him of his mine was Remigio
Vasquez. It was a long time before I could make
the obfuscated drunkard understand the purport of
my visit, and undeceive him with regard to the Bis
cayan. "You see that I am delighted," cried he, when he
had at last made out the meaning of my words.
" For poor Remigio's sake ?" I said.
" No, for my own sake. I don't fear his informa
tion," he replied, with a drunken frankness ; " but if
that change my intentions regarding him, Remigio
Vasquez's affair is not a bit improved. I mean to say
— (and, swallowing what remained in his glass, he
seemed to be trying to collect his thoughts) — I mean
that it is capital for — for — "
" For whom ?" I exclaimed, losing all patience.
" Ah ! caramba, for our intimate friend, the respect
able Don Tomas Verdugo, as your lordship styles
him." II

170 TAKEN IN BY THE DRUNKARD.
And the miner was not slow in telling me that the
bravo would receive a considerable sum from the in
jured father, as he had been told, to avenge the insult
offered to his outraged family.
"And where is Don Tomas ?" I inquired of Floren
cio. " I am sure that I can undeceive him as well as
yourself." "I think I know where he is at present," replied
Planillas. " Well, why do you wait here ? Let us set out im
mediately in search of him."
" I would like well enough to be off; but, you see,
I can't quit this place without paying my score, and I
have not a single tlaco about me."
" That needn't detain you. Call the publican."
" Truly," said Florencio, with much effrontery,
" yesterday evening you partook of my hospitality ;
if you clear my expenses to-day, we shall be quits."
The publican immediately appeared, and I inquired
how much Florencio owed him. The miner tipped
him the wink, and the other immediately said, " Two
piastres." This was far too much, and the drunken
scoundrel would very likely gain a piastre and a half
by it; but time was precious. I yielded, and we
hastened in pursuit of Don Tomas. Unluckily, the
tottering legs of my companion but ill seconded my
efforts, and I was obliged to proceed very slowly. In
this manner we traversed a considerable part of the
town. Every now and then the drunken rascal stop
ped before a house, saying he was within, but he was
invariably mistaken. We at last stood before a dark,
steep, wet alley, at the end of which you saw the dusky
light which issued from a garden.
"Are you sure you are right this time?" I asked

FLORENCIO LEAVES ME. 171
anxiously of Florencio ; " for time is passing, and poor
Vasquez is in danger of his life."
" He is there, assuredly," stammered my compan
ion ; " for I could never forgive myself if I had ar
rived too late, and any misfortune (here his eyes be
came bathed in maudlin tears) were to happen to Don
Tomas. Such a worthy man as he is, too !"
After this burst of sensibility, which failed signally
in its object, Florencio plunged into the lane, and I re
mained alone, for I thought that we could no longer
proceed together. I walked about in the street, a prey
to anxiety easy to comprehend, counting the minutes,
which seemed centuries, and expecting every moment
to see this Don Tomas, who had not been out of my
thoughts for so many days, appear before me ; but
time passed, and he did not make his appearance. An
hour was spent in this manner, and at last I decided
on going to the house myself. I walked through the
dark alley, entered the garden at the other end, and
the first thing I saw was a man stretched on the
ground. This was the unhappy Florencio, who was
snoring as if he would burst his nostrils, and had for
gotten «very thing in his drunkenness. I retraced my
steps, resolving to trust to myself only ; but it was a
long time before I found myself in a part of the town
I knew. I got to my hotel with some difficulty. Ce
cilio met me at the gate.
"Ah!" cried he, on seeing me, "what a dreadful
misfortune has happened! The young cavalier that
you met this morning had a quarrel fixed on him by
a passenger in the street, and they have carried him
to his own room. He is dead, there's no doubt of it."
Such an occurrence is so common in Mexico that
no unusual stir was visible in the hotel as I mounted

172 DEATH OF THE SPANISH NOBLE.
the stairs to go to Don Jaime's room. The poor
young man, uncared for, untended, appeared to be
sleeping the most tranquil sleep of all, upon a bench
of stone, with a bloody sheet thrown over him. The
fresh air which struck his face as I lifted the cloth
caused him to open his eyes, over which the glaze of
death was already stealing.
" I know who you are," he said ; " it was you who
succored me when I was in want, and you will remain
by me till the last, I am sure. Thank you."
The Biscayan gave me his clay-cold hand.
" My hand is burning hot, is it not ? A few min
utes ago she pressed it between both of hers. Good
God ! what will she say when she never .sees me
again ?"
"Never fear," I replied. "Tell me where I can
see Donna Luz."
The Biscayan whispered her address into my ear.
"Now," replied he, "it is useless. My hours are
numbered ; she will come too late ! When I am gone,
don't tell her that she was the cause of my death. In
form her only that my last thought was of her."
Some rambling, unconnected words now escaped
from the poor Spaniard — his mother's name, his coun
try's, and his dear wife's, for whom he had paid the
penalty of his life. While the exterior world was
gradually fading from his eyes, the sweet and holy im
pressions of childhood, the first imprinted on the heart
of man, and the last to leave it, still threw a few bright
beams athwart the thickening darkness of his thoughts.
All at once, turning himself to me, he exclaimed, in a
clear, distinct voice,
" You will go and see my mother, won't you ? Be
it a year after this, or even ten. Say this to console

A MEXICAN ALCALDE. 173
her, that I died worth millions, but not that I breath
ed my last on such a bed as this."
I bowed in token of assent, and Don Jaime employ
ed the little strength that was left him in telling me
where to find his house, near Vergara, in Biscay. I
promised to fulfill this last request. A vague, mean
ingless smile now played upon the dying man's lips,
that moved only in a prayer he put up in which his
mother's name was mentioned. These were his last
words. I wiped away the foam that covered his lips
with a corner of his cloak, and closed the eyes, which
were wide open and staring. At this moment some
body touched me on the shoulder. I turned about.
A man whose entrance I had not noticed stood behind
me. By his staff I saw he was an alcalde.
"Well, Senor Cavalier," said he, "you would give
something, I know, to have satisfaction for the death
of this young man. I am convinced you would ; be
calm — the eye of justice sees it all."
" When it is too late," I said, in a low tone.
" Is he a friend — a relation — a brother perhaps ?"
asked the alcalde.
I knew Mexican law too well to allow myself to be
taken in by this appearance of compassion and inter
est, and said nothing.
" Well, I am waiting for your declaration," pursued
he, with an engaging air.
"My declaration, Senor Alcalde, is this" (and I in
wardly asked pardon of the corpse lying before me for
the lie I was about to utter) : " I declare that I don't
know, nor ever have known, this young man."*
* By professing relationship, or even acquaintance, with one who
_ has fallen by assassination, you render yourself, in Mexico, bound to
defray the expenses of justice.

174 BISCAY DURING THE CARLIST TROUBLES.
The disappointed alcalde was not long in leaving
the room.
"Ah! Senor Cavalier," said the huesped, who had
witnessed the whole scene, "you are a foreigner, it is
true, but you did not come into the country yester-
day." I pretended not to comprehend the compliment he
had paid me, and threw a last glance at the poor Bis
cayan. His face wore that aspect of serenity and
peace which often appears on men who have died a
violent death. A quiet smile played upon his lips.
Though only commenced a few days before, the short
connection I had had with Don Jaime was now closed.
As regards the mysterious link which bound me to
Don Tomas, that was not broken for some time after
ward. A year had passed since the death of the Biscayan.
I had quitted Mexico. Besides the promise I had
given Don Jaime, a less romantic motive, one quite
personal, led me into Spain. The embers of the civil
war were then fast dying out. The diligences which
plied between Bayonne and Madrid, and the towns be
tween those cities, had stopped running in consequence
of the Carlist bands which infested the Basque front
ier. I reached Bilboa, and it was only at great ex
pense that I could procure a pair of horses and a
guide. This man, who was to leave me at Vergara,
from whence I could reach St. Sebastian, had himself
served in the Carlist ranks. From Bilboa to Vergara
is almost thirty miles. Throughout this wide extent
of country, the people in the villages, fearing invasion,
had emigrated in bands, and the road, dangerous even
at its best, would have appeared very long without the
stories of my guide. We arrived at Vergara at night-

THE CASTLE OF VILLALOBOS. 175
fall ; the townsmen were fast deserting it. A Carhst
band had announced its arrival. My guide could go
no farther, his pass not permitting him to leave the
town. A league farther on the horses would be seized
and himself arrested.
" I must leave you," he said, " but I am very sorry
for it. I know my old comrades well ; and may the
holy Virgin keep you from falling into their hands."
"My nationality protects me," I exclaimed; "I
fear neither Carlist nor Christine"
"Your being a Frenchman will not avail you, for —
for — for — " The good man, hesitating for a while,
added, "For you will probably be hung offhand."
This did not startle me much ; I knew, if my life
were in peril, I should find a secure retreat in the
house of the mother of poor Don Jaime, who had once
been a Carlist officer. The mountaineer, who could
not account for my coolness, shook me by the hand
and said,
" You are a brave fellow, by heavens ! and I hope
they will shoot rather than hang you."
The ex-Carlist quitted me. I left my valise at an
inn, and, after learning the direction of the castle of
Tronera, a place which every body seemed to know,
set out on foot. It was about three quarters of a mile
from the town. The castle of Villalobos, as I expect
ed, was a gloomy enough place, and the wind was
whistling in the angles of the crumbling turrets with
a noise which sounded to me like the drums of a Car-
list band. Flocks of swallows were darting in and
out of some apertures in the loose tiles on the roof.
The shutters were all closed ; some scaffolding, how
ever, raised at different parts of the building, showed
that repairs had been begun, but had been interrupted.

176 MOTHER AND SON BOTH DEAD.
The castle seemed deserted. I knocked at the door.
Some seconds elapsed, and a woman, clad in black, ap
peared. I desired her to announce to her mistress
that a stranger had arrived from America, and was the
bearer of some important news.
"Alas!" replied the woman, "the poor lady died
six months ago, and I am looking for her son every
day." "He is dead too!" I exclaimed.
I then learned that, some time before my arrival,
the mother of Don Jaime had been presented with a
considerable sum of money. As no letter had accom
panied the remittance, she concluded that the unknown
benefactor must have been her son. This sudden
change in her fortune had a fatal effect upon her.
When on her death-bed, she had ordered the money
to be laid out in rendering the castle worthy of the
residence of its young master, and had died thanking
God that he had allowed a gleam of prosperity to shine
at last upon the old race of Villalobos.
I had fulfilled my promise, and did not remain long
at the chateau. It is needless to add that, contrary
to the warning of my guide, I finished my excursion
without meeting even the shadow of a Carlist band or
Christino detachment.

®h,£ Jlthura of Ranct0.

CHAPTER I.
The Hand upon the Wall. — Desiderio Fuentes, the lucky Miner. —
Don Tomas Verduzco.
Hardly a century ago, Guanajuato was a town of
very little importance. Before the sudden change in
its fortune, which resulted from the rich yield of silver
in the Valenciana and Rayas mines, the mining in
dustry of Mexico had concentrated its activity in the
works of Tasco, Pachuca, and Zacatecas. The title of
ciudad (city) had been borne by Zacatecas since 1588,
while Guanajuato, though founded in 1554, did not
attain that rank till seventy-eight years later, in 1741.
It was not known that the mountains inclosing it on
all sides, and on the slope of which it was built, held
within their stony bosom the Yeta Madre (Mother
Vein), the richest lode of silver in the world. The
situation of Guanajuato is, besides, doubly advanta
geous. The city is situated at once in the richest
mining district in Mexico, and in the best cultivated
part of the fertile plains of the Bajio.* It is thus the
inhabitants call that large extent of country, about
eighty leagues in circumference, which is bounded to
ward the side of Guanajuato by the Cordillera.
Alternately parched and inundated, the Bajio pre-
* Literally, bottom of a valley.
IT 2

178 THE BAJIO.
sents at all seasons an aspect singularly picturesque.
During the rainy season, the winter of those favored
climes, the sky, which loses its blue without losing its
softness, floods the plains with fertilizing torrents. For
several hours a day the Bajio is a vast lake, studded
with tufts of verdure, with blue hills, with groups of
white houses and enameled cupolas. On this sheet
of water the green summits of the trees alone reveal
to the traveler the capricious meanderings of the inun
dated road. Soon, however, the thirsty soil has im
bibed the moisture through the innumerable cracks
that eight months' drought has left in its surface. A
layer of slime, deposited by the heavy rains and the
torrents from the Cordillera, has enriched the impover
ished earth. The heavens are~ clear and cloudless as
before. The springs, freed from the crust which ob
structed them, gush out more abundantly from the foot
of the ahuehuetl* The Peruvian-tree, the gum-tree,
the golden-flowered huisache, amid whose blossoms
the scarlet-plumed parrots scream, shade and perfume
the now consolidated roads. The songs of muleteers
and the bells of mules resound in the blue distance,
mingled with the shrill creaking of cart-wheels. It is
the time when the Indian laborer returns to his toils.
Like the shepherd in the Georgics, with his leathern
buskins, his short tunic, and bare legs, he lazily goads
the oxen at the plow. And such is the fertility of this
soil, that splendid crops cover the ground which the
plow has scarcely furrowed. Still, it is not in the
rich plain alone that nature has been most indulgent
to the happy dwellers in the Bajio. Over the fertile
* The name of a species of cedar, whose presence almost always in
dicates the vicinity of a hidden spring. In Indian, ahuehuetl means
lord of the waters

THE INDIAN HUSBANDMAN.— :THE MINER. 17y
valleys in the vicinity of Guanajuato, the Cordillera
rears its metalliferous crest, whose sides are veined
with lodes of gold and silver, and which delivers to the
mattock of the miner the immense treasures of the
Veta Madre.* The striking contrast that is visible be
tween the laborer and the miner is nowhere so strongly
apparent as in this part of the Bajio. Humble and
submissive, the Indian husbandman is at every one's
mercy. The miner, haughty and independent, takes
a higher rank ; and this claim is justified, we must
admit, by the importance of the duty he performs.
Obliged to submit to labor which yields him only lim
ited results, the husbandman finishes his work in si
lence, while the pickaxe of the miner resounds, so to
speak, to the end of the world, and is constantly add
ing, at every stroke, to the riches of mankind. Pros
perity is not long in coming to the indefatigable miner.
The slopes of the hills, the ravines, and the summits
of the mountains swarm with a dense population,
among whom the lucky finders of a new lode scatter
their hard-earned money with thoughtless liberality,
and squander in one day the earnings of six months.
From the French miner Laborde, who lavished thou
sands upon Cathedrals, down to the meanest peon, the
history of this bold workman has been always the
same. Fortune is the only god he worships. He
goes to his dangerous occupation as if specially sent
thither by Divine Providence ; and this proud thought
is favored by the laws of the country, old privileges
according the title of nobility to the worker in the
* The Veta Madre, wrought by the four mining companies of Va-
lenciana, Cata, Mellado, and Rayas, was discovered by the French
miner Laborde, and has yielded, between the years 1829 and 1837,
ore to the value of almost six million two hundred and fifty thousand
pounds sterling.

180 CHARACTER OF THE MINER.
mines. Even at this day he can not be dispossessed
by his creditors of his mine, if he can afford to work
it. It appears that there is a tendency to respect the
descendants of a privileged race. Besides a knowledge
of metals to guide him in his search, the miner must
be endowed with a number of rare qualities ; from
that vigorous strength indispensable to one who has
to raise heavy burdens, and support all day, on scanty
wages, the enervating fatigue of under-ground work,
down to activity and pliancy of limb, united with un
daunted resolution and coolness. These qualities, it
must be owned, are never found in the same man with
out corresponding defects. A capricious and undis
ciplined being, the miner only employs all his tact and
energy if interested in the success of his enterprise.
Sometimes, after toiling for a month, during which he
has hardly earned enough to live upon — in a week, or
even in a day, he recompenses himself for his long pri
vations. The miner then thanks Dame Fortune. He
scatters his gold with a lavish hand, and returns to
his work only after all his gains are exhausted. At
times he enriches himself by secretly pilfering the ore
which really belongs to the proprietor of the mine, and
the miners are but too expert at this species of theft.
It was in the midst of a population like this that I
found myself at Guanajuato, after the dangerous and
useless search recorded in the preceding chapters. I
did not wish to let this opportunity escape me of ob
serving upon this theatre of action a class of men, of
whom the gambusinos, or gold-seekers of the Sonora,
give one only an imperfect idea. After spending a
day in repose, which the many painful events I had
encountered rendered necessary, I went out next morn
ing to visit the mines in the neighborhood of Guana-

THE HAND UPON THE WALL. 181
juato. While crossing the great square, and keeping
myself on my guard, my attention was arrested by an
unusual object. Nailed against the wall, and under a
small pent-house, was a human hand cut off by the
wrist. I stopped my horse to assure myself that it
was not a plaster cast. A moment's examination was
sufficient to convince me that it was indeed a human
hand, once strong and muscular, but now blanched and
withered by the wind, the sun, and the rain. Under
the pent-house some half-burned candles told that pi
ous souls had been touched by this strange exhibition,
which seemed destined to perpetuate the remembrance
of some bloody deed. After seeking in vain upon the
wall an explanatory inscription, I continued my jour
ney ; but, during my short stay, a horseman had ap
proached, and seemed determined to keep close by me.
At any other time I would have accepted with a bad
grace the company of the unknown, but I had come
out, you must remember, in quest of a guide. I stop
ped my horse, and put some questions to him. The
stranger bowed courteously.
" You are a stranger, Senor Cavalier," said he, with
a smile. " How do you know that ?" I replied, a little aston
ished at his abrupt way of beginning a conversation.
" The curious way in which you gazed upon that
withered hand sufficiently convinced me that you have
not been long in the town, and had not much time to
lose. I must say that, for me, who am looking out
for a companion, our meeting is a lucky one."
I was not quite sure if I ought to accept with much
cordiality the companionship so familiarly thrust upon
me. He seemed to observe my hesitation, and ex
claimed, with a certain degree of haughtiness, " You

182 DESIDERIO BECOMES MY GUIDE.
do not know me, and I am unwilling that you should
for a moment suppose that you have got to do with
some of those poor devils who are always ready to of
fer their services to the first stranger they meet. My
name is Desiderio Fuentes. I am a miner; and, in
the profession I exercise, there are some days on which
fortune is unkind, and others on which you amass so
much money that you do not know how to get rid of
it. I am in the latter condition at present ; and my
invariable custom, on an occasion of this kind, is to
procure some jolly companion who can share in my
pleasures. If I can't get one, I take up with the first
cavalier of good appearance I meet, and I confess that
I have never had occasion yet to blame Fortune for
the comrade she sent me."
This frank declaration reassured me completely. I
told Desiderio, however, that I could not accept of his
cordial offer. I had come to visit the silver mines in
the immediate vicinity of Guanajuato, and was unwill
ing to waste in his company the time that I intended
to devote to such a purpose, supposing always that he
would not serve me as a guide. Desiderio preferred
doing this rather than relinquish my society, being but
too happy to escape from his own thoughts, were it only
for a few hours. This bargain made, we spurred our
horses, and a few minutes afterward got clear of the
town. On the road my guide informed me that he had
made a lucky hit the night before, and that he could
take his far niente for several days to come from the
proceeds of &partido.*~ He added that it would be a
* The miners are said to be in partido when a share of the proceeds
is given them as wages. In this case the employers furnish them with
tools, gunpowder, and candles.

I RESOLVE TO VISIT THE RAYAS MINE. 183
delightful recreation for him to visit the mines in the
neighborhood as an amateur, and he desired me to
choose the one I had a mind to visit, premising only
that he would rather not go to the Valenciana, as he
happened to have a quarrel with one of the adminis
trators. He wished to keep away from the Mellado,
because he owed some money to one of the workmen
there ; and as for the Cata, certain misunderstandings
of recent date caused him to avoid it with the greatest
care. In spite of the apparent liberty of choice he had
granted me, I saw no other way of accomplishing my
object but by going to inspect the Rayas — the only
one open to me. The precautions which Desiderio
Fuentes was forced to take did not say much in his
favor. My new friend was evidently very quarrelsome.
He had certainly no love for paying his debts, and in
his misunderstandings {desavencias) his knife had
doubtless played no unimportant part. I began to
entertain but a very indifferent opinion of my com
panion. One expression especially that escaped the
miner caused me to reflect.
"My first impulse is always very good," he said,
"but I own my second is detestable."
We had now come to the extremity of a ravine
whose precipitous sides had till now obstructed the
view. A beautifully level plain lay stretched before
us. Long strings of mules, laden with ore, were slow
ly making their way to one of those metallurgic estab
lishments known in Mexico as a hacienda de platas.
High chimney-stacks, from which volumes of smoke
and leaden vapors rolled, now appeared ; the stone pa-
tros also, on which the fluid metal is poured a day be
fore its formation into ingots. The noise of the ham
mer pounding the argentiferous rock, the clattering of

184 THE DEAD MULE.  PLANILLAS AGAIN.
the mules' hoofs, and the cracking of whips, were min
gled with the hoarser sound of the falhng water that
moved the machinery. I had stopped my horse to
gaze on this animated scene, but my attention was
soon attracted elsewhere. A few paces distant, but
half hidden from us by a hollow in the road, I espied
two men dragging along with ropes the carcass of a
mule. Having arrived at a place where Desiderio and
I could alone see them, one of them stooped over the
dead mule, and seemed to examine it curiously, cast
ing at the same time a suspicious glance around. The
moment he caught sight of us, he flopped down on the
carcass that he had been dragging a minute before,
while his companion immediately disappeared in a
dense thicket of low trees and brushwood.
" Well, I thought I was right," said Fuentes. " It
is my friend Planillas ; but what the devil is he doing
there?" At the name of Planillas I shuddered involuntarily,
and, preceded by Fuentes, made my way directly to
the place where the man was seated on the mule. I
hoped to obtain some information from the friend of
Don Tomas Verduzco as to the part the bravo had
played in the murder of my friend Don Jaime. Pla
nillas, his elbows on his knees, and his head on his
hands, appeared overwhelmed by violent grief. The
noise of our approach drew him at last from his ab
straction, and he looked up at us, but with an expres
sion of uneasiness rather than of sorrow.
"Ah! senores," cried he, "in me you behold the
most miserable man in all New Spain."
"You are doubtless thinking," I replied, "of the
young cavalier whom Don Tomas assassinated two
days ago, and whose blood is on your head, since you

A QUEER SEAT.  THE MELLADO MINERS. 185
might have saved his life by stopping the hand of
your friend — of that Don Tomas who had been paid
to kill him, you told me."
" Did I say that ?" cried Florencio ; " then, by the
life of my mother, I lied. I am a terrible liar when
in drink ; and you know, Senor Cavalier, I had drunk
a great deal that day."
Florencio paused, visibly embarrassed. Fuentes
thereupon asked him why he was in such a state of
grief when we came up, and why he persisted in tak
ing the carcass of a mule for a seat.
"This mule is the cause of my sorrow," replied
Planillas. "Although I was tenderly attached to her,
I had sold her in my misery to the hacienda de platas
you see in the valley below. I got employment in the
work-shops to be near her ; but, alas ! the poor beast
died this morning, and I have dragged her to this
lonely place in order to mourn over her undisturbed."
Planillas again plunged his head between his hands
with the ah- of a man who will not be consoled ; then,
doubtless, to turn the conversation, "Ah! Senor Cav
alier," he said, "that is not my only misfortune.
Yesterday a fight took place between the miners of
Rayas and those of Mellado, and I was not there."
" I see nothing so unfortunate in that."
' ' Nothing unfortunate ! " vociferated Planillas. ' 'Ah !
it was not one of those vulgar encounters that one
sees every day ; and you would never guess how it
terminated — by a shower of piastres which the miners
of Mellado poured upon their adversaries to prove the
superiority of their mine. Ah ! the beautiful eagle
piastres !." he added, with a broken-hearted air ; "and
I was too late in the field."
I could better understand Planillas's grief for this

186 DON TOMAS APPEARS FOR THE FIRST TIME.
last disappointment ; but I should have doubted this
excess of arrogant prodigality on the part of the Mel
lado miners had not Fuentes confirmed, with proud
satisfaction, the truth of the tale. My companion
would again have questioned Planillas, of whose lam
entations he appeared suspicious, but a sudden crack
ing of branches in the brushwood behind us attracted
his attention. A httle thick-set man, a sort of dwarf
Hercules, with a somewhat stern expression of coun
tenance, stood before us. He saluted us politely, and
sat down on the ground beside Planillas. His mouth
tried to smile, but his glance, sinister and piercing as
that of a bird of prey, belied the feigned gayety. We
were silent for a few moments. The new-comer was
the first to speak.
" You were talking just now," he said, " if my ears
did not deceive me, of one Don Tomas. Could it be
of Don Tomas Verduzco you were speaking?" He
said this in a soft and silky tone, that contrasted
strongly with the evil expression of his countenance.
This simple question, coming from a man who had at
once inspired me with the strongest repugnance, sound
ed very much hke an insult.
"Precisely," I replied, exerting myself to keep cool;
"I accused Don Tomas of the murder of a young man
whom he did not even know the night before."
"Are you sure?" said the man, with a sinister
glance. "Ask this wretch !" I replied, pointing to Planillas.
On hearing this, Planillas bounced up as if he had
been touched by a spring. He appeared to have re
covered all his assurance. "I never said any thing
of the kind. But your lordship," cried he, in an iron
ical tone, " is surely not acquainted with the respecta-

NEARLY OVER WITH DON TOMAS. 187
ble Don Tomas Verduzco, since you speak so in his
presence." I looked at the man thus denounced to me, and
whom I now beheld for the first time. Imagination'
placed before me the bleeding body of Don Jaime, his
agony, his last moments, and his happy future, all cut
off in an instant by the knife of the man before me.
"Ah! you are Don Tomas Verduzco — " I could
not finish. A sort of faintness came over me, and,
without accounting to myself for what I was about to
do, I cocked one of my pistols. At the click of the
lock the stranger's face became livid, for Mexicans of
the lower classes, who will not wince at the glitter of
a knife-blade, tremble at the sight of a fire-arm in a
European hand. He never stirred, however. Fuentes
threw himself between us.
"Gently, senior! gently, Cascaras ! how you take
the customs of the country ! "
" The deuce take that Planillas," said the stranger,
with a forced laugh ; " he is always playing off some
joke or other. But the idea of passing me off as Don
Tomas is too absurd. Has your lordship any interest,
then, in this Don Tomas ?"
My passion appeared to me ridiculous, and passed
away as by enchantment.
" I do not even know him," I replied, somewhat
confusedly, but with all my former coolness. " I can
not tell how he has got mixed up in my affairs ; but
I think I owe it to my safety to show no mercy to
such assassins when chance throws them in my way."
The stranger muttered some unintelligible words.
I thought the opportunity a good one to get rid of my
new friend Desiderio, whose companionship was be
coming somewhat burdensome to me, so I saluted the

188 AN OBLIGING OFFER.
group and rode off; but I had not counted on the idle
ness of Fuentes, for, before I had . gone a hundred
yards, he had overtaken me.
"I was perhaps wrong," he said, "to interfere in
this affair, and to prevent you from lodging a bullet in
the head of that ill-looking knave ; for, judging from
the revengeful look he cast at you, I presume the first
stroke of a knife you will receive will be from his
hand." " Do you think so ?" I replied, rather startled at
this unpleasant prediction.
" I yielded, in truth, too readily to my first im
pulse," continued Fuentes, who seemed in a reverie.
"What if we went back?" he said. "You might then
resume the affair at the point at which you left it, and,
in case of need, I would help you."
It was quite clear that Fuentes regretted having let
slip this nice opportunity for a quarrel. I dryly re
fused his offer, and thought to myself that, decidedly,
his second impulse was worse than his first.
"You won't ! Well, it's no great matter. After all,
who cares for a knife-thrust more or less ? I have re
ceived three in my time, and am not a bit the worse."
I did not deem it necessary to make any reply to
this remark, which did not place my guide's character
in a very favorable light, and cut short his revelations
by asking him some questions about the mine whose
buildings were coming gradually into sight as we ap
proached.

DESCRIPTION OF A MINE. 189

CHAPTER II.
Description of, and descent into, a Silver Mine. — The Miner's Chap:'!.
When a mine is first begun, it is always left open
to the sky, and the mineral is extracted by following
the vein that contains it ; but, as the mine gets deep
er, two obstacles present themselves : the extraction
of the ore becomes more costly, and the workmen are
not long in meeting with hidden springs, the waters
of which, unless removed, would drown the mine and
stop the works. To provide against this danger, shafts
are sunk, at the bottom of which a working gallery
runs, that follows the vein of metal. The depth of
the shaft depends upon the lode, which sometimes
stretches so far down into the ground that two or
three working galleries, one above the other, are obliged
to be constructed. In the richest mines little paths
of communication are added to these principal arteries,
besides other works to assist in its exploration.
The ore and water are raised out of the mines by
means of machines called Malacates, placed at the
mouth of the shaft. Large bags, some made of the
stringy bark of the aloe, others of ox-hide, are fixed to
the ends of ropes wound round an enormous drum,
the former for raising the ore, the latter for the water,
and these are constantly passing up and down the
shaft. The motive power is given by horses, which
are kept constantly at the gallop.
Besides the grand shaft {tiro general), the mine of

190 THE RAYAS SILVER MINE.
Rayas has two others of less importance, one of which
reaches a depth of nearly eight hundred feet. The
tiro general, remarkable for the diameter of its shaft,
which is thirty-four feet, and for its frightful depth,
almost twelve hundred feet, communicates with three
principal galleries, one above the other, and these shafts
and galleries, together with then: accessories, form the
most complete series of gigantic workings that are to
be found in the country. The exterior appearance of
this mine is, however, far from giving one an idea of
the constant activity which prevails within it. Some
paltry wooden sheds, covered with tiles, which protect
the malacates, or shelter the workmen ; a few build
ings of mean appearance, the offices of the adminis
trators or overseers, and two or three whitewashed
houses, huddled together without any regard to order
on the neighboring mounds, scarcely convey to the vis
itor any notion of the wonders he is going to behold.
It was about midday when I arrived with my com
panion at the opening by which we were to be admitted
into the mine. We dismounted, confided our horses
to the care of one of the miners, and entered. Desi
derio carried in his hand a huge torch. I stood for a
short time at the mouth of this vast laboratory, think
ing on the millions of money it had been the means of
putting into circulation. My guide, his cloak thickly
covered with gold lace, that appeared, as the light of
the torch fell on its velvety folds, to be seamed with
golden links, looked hke the lordly genie of this sub
terranean kingdom. We descended for a long time a
series of steps, every one of which had the dimensions
of a terrace. Amid the profound darkness, which the
torch dispelled but feebly, we made a series of turn
ings and windings, changing every minute our temper-

SCENE IN THE CHAPEL OF THE MINE. 191
ature and direction, and sometimes mounting an in
clined plane only to descend it. In about a quarter
of an hour I perceived in the distance some wandering
lights, then a few gigantic shadows appeared on the
moist walls of the vault. I still kept on, and soon
found myself in a square which the piety of the miners
had converted into a chapel. In the centre rose a low
altar, ornamented with wax tapers, which burned be
fore an image of a saint. A man, who seemed to be
praying fervently, was kneeling upon the steps of the
altar. He was the first human being I had seen since
entering the mine.
My guide touched my arm.
"Take a good look at this man," he said, in a low
tone. The suppliant miner was entirely naked. With
out the light of the flambeau, which allowed you to see
his gray hair and angular features, you would not have
thought he was an old man, so much youth and vigor
seemed still to possess his nervous members.
" Why ?" I inquired of Desiderio.
" This man," said he, "is no stranger to the history
of the hand upon the wall that you gazed at with so
much curiosity this morning ; and, though that history
is as well known to me as to him, perhaps from his
lips it would have an additional interest, as his son
was concerned in it."
I fancied that I had at last found an opportunity
for shaking off Desiderio by insinuating that the nar
rator would probably go more into detail if he were
telling the story to me alone. This time he took the
hint. " I am neither irritable nor quarrelsome," cried he ;
"but your lordship seems very desirous to get rid of
his devoted servant."

192 THE OLD MINER.
" I must protest against the meaning you put upon
my words."
Fuentes seemed to be calming down.
" Come," said he, with an air of raillery, " I will re
nounce my desire of accompanying you through these
subterranean abodes, seeing you wish it. Besides, I
must find out the meaning of the comedy played this
morning by Planillas upon the carcass of the mule.
You must visit the mine without me ; and I shall tell
you what I have learned about this fellow after you
have come up the grand shaft, for, to crown your
achievement, you must be drawn up by means of the
malacate." I was in such a hurry to be quit of this personage
that I promised all he asked, without remarking the
ironical smile with which he welcomed my reply. At
this moment the miner had finished his prayer. Fu
entes exchanged a few words with him in a low tone,
and walked rapidly away. I felt relieved.
" Senor Cavalier," said the new-comer to me, "my
comrade Fuentes has made me acquainted with your
desire to know the story of my son from my own lips
— about him who was the pride of the corporation of
miners. This desire does me honor ; but at present
I can not accede to your wish. I am on my way to
fire a charge in the mine. If I am still in being after
that operation, I shall be with you in two hours, and
place myself entirely at your disposal, for I love the
brave, to whatever nation they may belong."
"And who told you I was brave?" I asked, with
an air of astonishment.
" Caramba ! a man who visits a mine for the first
time, and who, as Fuentes tells me, has a strong de
sire to make the perilous ascent by means of the tiro !

A MEXICAN SILVER MINE. 193
Well, we shall go up together, and on our journey I
shall tell you the story. I shall meet you, then, in
two hours at the bottom of the last gallery, close upon
the grand shaft."
I could scarcely have avoided this pompous eulogi-
um ; but I could not help feeling a certain sinking of
heart at the very thought of being forced, as it were,
against my will, to make this difficult and dangerous
ascent. I was again indebted to Fuentes for this new
annoyance. However, I promised to meet the old
miner at the time appointed, and, being alone, I profit
ed by my independence so far as to examine at my
leisure the new world into which I found myself trans
ported. I had the torch which Desiderio had left with
me, and walked about at my pleasure. Above me, fan
cifully hollowed out in the living rock, and studded
with brilliant spangles, stretched vaults of unequal
grandeur, some sustained by wooden props, others let
ting their sharp points descend, like the pendant of a
Gothic lamp, till they threatened to fall and bruise
one to pieces. A few tiny streamlets, which flowed
along the bottom of the rough pilasters, gleamed
brightly as the light of the torch fell upon them. At
a distance, large drops of water escaped from the fis
sures in the rocks, and fell on the stony soil with the
dull, regular beat of a pendulum. Before me several
dark squares opened ; the noise of footsteps reverber
ated in the sombre -caves, and died away in the dis
tance. Various lights from time to time struggled
through the deep gloom ; these were the miners pass
ing and repassing, with a rush-light stuck behind their
ear, looking like the gnomes of the magicians, who,
with a light on their forehead, watch over the hidden
treasures of their masters. I

194 A MEXICAN SILVER MINE.
I advanced with all caution ; for, left without a
guide in this labyrinth, I did not know which way to
go. I soon heard in the distance the dull sound of
the pickaxes with which they were hewing away the
rock, mingled with mysterious noises which seemed to
come from a lower gallery. These sounds, though"
very indistinct, served to guide me. Since entering
the mine, I had seen only those passages in which the
ore had been all extracted. I was now impatient to
behold a spot in which the miners were actually at
work. Such a locality is called the labor — that is to
say, the place where they are following the vein of sil
ver. A dusky, obscure glimmer indicated that the
proximity of the place was not far off; and I soon
reached the orifice of a shaft not very deep, from which
a strong light proceeded. I descended it by means of
a wooden ladder placed zigzag. I hesitated at first to
trust myself to this rickety ladder ; but, emboldened
by the shallowness of the shaft, I ventured to descend,
and arrived safely at the bottom. A passage about
five feet wide, and six hundred in length, conducted
me along this underground hive, the air in which was
as hot and stifling as if it had left the mouth of a cra
ter. Lost in the midst of this crowd of workmen, who
were too busy to notice my presence, I could examine
at my ease the fantastic tableau which there met my
eyes. A number of candles, stuck to the walls, threw
a dull, confused light upon the miners, the greater por
tion of whom, up to their waists in water, were attack
ing the living rock with vigorous strokes of their bar-
retas. Others trudged off loaded with sacks of ore,
the weight of which brought their muscles into ten
sion, while the lighted rush-light which they carried
upon their heads shone full upon their bronzed bodies,

A MEXICAN SILVER MINE. 195
trickling with sweat, and their long floating hair. The
sharp sound of the pickaxes striking the rock — the
splash of the stones in the water — the voices of the
miners — their shrill cries, and wheezy breathings,
seemed at times to shake the very vault. The red
dish glare of the candles reflected in the water — the
dust — the vapor, which filled the place like a mist —
the coppery veins which ran in all directions through
the rock, all combined to increase the singularity of
the spectacle.
After spending there a considerable time, I resolved
to make my way to a lower gallery, at the end of which
I was to meet the old miner. The ascent I was to
make from that place did not seem so perilous as I at
first imagined, and I should, besides, be saved going
over the same ground. I requested one of the miners
to conduct me to this place, as I feared to lose my
way in the maze, the paths crossing and recrossing
each other in all directions. I began, also, to feel the
necessity of breathing a purer air, and followed my new
guide with pleasure.
I went down an inclined plane so long that the joints
of my legs knocked together, and arrived at last, worn
out and breathless, at the extremity of the last gallery,
which formed a right angle with the grand shaft,
whose black mouth yawned right at my feet. This
shaft was carried down still lower. The miner had
not yet arrived. To a solitary workman, who seemed
to have been forgotten in these vast catacombs, was
assigned a most dangerous and frightful task. Close
at hand, another shaft full of water was in process of
being slowly emptied by means of an enormous bag
of ox-hide attached to the cable of the malacate.
When full, it was raised by means of the invisible

196 A MEXICAN SILVER MINE.
machine "twelve hundred feet above ; but, being vio
lently drawn in an oblique direction toward the axis
of the grand shaft, the bag, distended with water, was
in danger of being cut against the sharp rocks, had not
the workman deadened the impulse it had received
from the first motion of the malacate. On a narrow
space between the two pits, in the midst of almost ut
ter darkness, the peon held on to a double rope passed
round the cable, whose two extremities he held in his
hands ; then, as he was pulled with a fearful rapidity
to the mouth of the gulf, he let go all at once one of
the ends of the rope, and the bag struck the opposite
side of the rock very gently ; but, had he made one
false step, or let go the rope a second too late, he
would have been dashed down an almost unfathoma
ble abyss. I regarded the unhappy wretch who, ev
ery quarter of an hour during the whole day, hazarded
his life for scanty wages with a feeling of pity and
commiseration. The bag had already ascended and descended four
times ; that is to say, an hour had elapsed, and not a
single person had yet appeared. I must confess that,
at the sight of the dark, gloomy shaft which I had to
ascend, I felt my spirits sink somewhat ; and as the
old miner did not make his appearance, I pardoned
him in my heart with a good grace, when, through
the thick darkness, the cable of the malacate came in
sight. A feeble glimmer lighted up the damp walls,
and a voice, which was not unknown to me, called
out, "Halloo! friend, is there not a gentleman waitino-
here to go up by the tiro ?"
I had scarcely answered that I was ready than a
packet fell at my feet. I untied mechanically the cord

I BEGIN THE JOURNEY UPWARD. 197
which encircled it. The parcel contained a vest, trow-
sers of thick wool, a leathern baton, and a kind of
plaited rope made of the bark of the aloe. I asked in
some terror if the vest and trowsers were quite suffi
cient to deaden a fall of twelve hundred feet. As for
the leathern baton and the plaited strap, I guessed
their use at once. The workmen near me described
the use of each of these articles. The woolen clothing
was to keep me from being wet by the water, which
shot forth in fine rain at certain places in the shaft. I
was to attach myself to the cable by means of the
plaited strap, and the baton was to prevent me from
being dashed to pieces on the rock by the oscillations
of the rope.
" Make haste!" cried my invisible guide ; "we have
no time to lose."
I put on the clothes with all speed, drew the cable to
ward me, and grasped it firmly with my hands, crossing
my legs likewise over it. The peon passed the strap
twice or thrice round my body and under my thighs,
so as to form a kind of seat, tied the two ends firmly
to the cable, and placed the baton in my hands. He
had scarcely finished ere I felt myself lifted from the
ground by an invisible power. I spun round three or
four times, and, when I recovered from my astonish
ment, found myself already swinging over the gulf. A
little above my head I perceived the legs of my guide,
who was grasping the cable tightly. Although he
carried a torch, I could discover but imperfectly his
copper body, half naked, which, at certain moments,
gleamed like Florentine bronze. However, I could
make out his words quite well.
"Am I well enough tied to the cable, do you think?"
I asked, seeing that not a single knot or roughness in

198 DESCRIPTION OF THE SHAFT.
the rope could prevent the strap that bound me from
slipping to the bottom.
" Well, I suppose you are, unless the peon has done
his business ill," replied the" miner, in a calm tone;
" but, should that not be the case, you can grasp the
rope with your hands with all your might."
I clutched the cable convulsively. Unfortunately,
I could hardly compass it with my two hands.
" How long shall we be in going up ?"
'"* Twelve minutes commonly, but in this instance
half an hour — a favor which I have obtained solely on
your account, to allow you more time to observe the
wonders of the mine. "
"And does any accident ever happen in the ascent?"
" Pardon me. An Englishman, who happened to
be ill bound to the rope, fell almost from the top to
the very bottom, and so suddenly and quietly that a
fellow-workman of mine, who was his guide, had not
remarked his disappearance till he was at the top of
the shaft."
I thought it best to ask no more questions. When
I considered that five minutes had elapsed since the
first movement of the malacate, I ventured to look
above and below me. The shaft seemed to be divided
into three distinct zones. At my feet a thick dark
ness dimmed the horror of that gulf which no eye
could fathom ; white tepid vapors rose slowly from the
dark bottom and mounted toward us. Around me,
the guide's torch lighted up with a smoky glimmer the
green walls of rock, cut and torn in all directions by
the pickaxe and the wedge. In the upper region a
column of thick mist pressed round the circle of light
produced by our torch, and shut us out completely
from the light of day. At this moment the machine

THE miner's story. 199
stopped to give the horses breath. I clutched the ca
ble anew as if it were slipping from me, and shut my
eyes to avoid looking downward.
" This halt is especially for you," said my guide.
" I had forgotten that I was to tell you a story, and
this affords me time."
Without waiting for my reply, the miner commenced
a recital whose incidents and minute details could not,
in a dangerous ascent like this, fail to be deeply en
graven on my memory. The attention I gave to the
narrator kept my mind from dwelling upon the dan
gerous position in which I was at the moment, and
this cessation of thought I would have welcomed at
almost any price.

CHAPTER III.

Story of the Passer of the Rio Atotonilco, Osorio. — Felipe. — The
young Miner. — A Duel in the Mine.
"You are perhaps aware," said the miner, "that
in passing from San Miguel el Grande* to Dolores, the
traveler is obliged to cross the Rio Atotonilco. In
the rainy season the passage of this river can not be
made by any but those who know the principal fords.
The stream is about sixty yards wide at the place
where the road to San Miguel meets it. The impetu
osity of its waters, and the heavy, imposing noise of
its yellow waves, produce an involuntary terror in any
* A small town near Guanajuato, celebrated for its manufactures of
zarapes, which almost rival those of Saltillo. Dolores is a market-
town, still more celebrated for having been the cradle of Mexican in
dependence.

200 THE MINER'S STORY.
one who requires to cross it at this place. On the op
posite bank, a few cabins, formed of branches, shelter
a few wretched families, who make a scanty living by
piloting the passengers across by the fords, with which
they are acquainted. Often, when the traveler on the
other side sees the poor half-clad people wandering
upon the bank, and throwing themselves into the wa
ter, he hesitates, turns his bridle, and gallops off. A
sad event proved that too little confidence can not be
placed in men who will not be contented with the
scanty living they pick up at this dangerous employ
ment. Some years ago, an old miner of Zacatecas,
who had rendered himself obnoxious to justice, and
had quitted that province, came and established him
self among the passers of the Rio Atotonilco. This
man, whose strength and prowess rendered him for
midable, was marked as having a singularly unlucky
hand. Once or twice, the travelers whom he had en
gaged to convey across had been ingulfed by the wa
ters of the. river. One stormy night, believing him
self alone, and seeing a traveler on the opposite bank,
the passer crossed the ford to tender his services. He
was observed by one of his comrades who had follow
ed him, but who had hid himself among a thick clump
of osiers on the brink of the river for the purpose of
watching all that passed. The passer, having crossed
the river, soon reappeared, followed by the cavalier,
whose horse he led by the bridle. When half way
across he mounted behind, and, a few seconds after,
the splash of some one falling into the water was
heard. One only of the horsemen remained in the
saddle. This man reached the opposite bank at a
considerable distance from the hamlet, and was soon
lost in the darkness. The witness to the crime was

THE MINER'S STORY. 201
a young man whom the passer had, a few days before,
brutally ill used, and he was now seeking an opportu
nity for revenge. Thinking he had found it, he threw
himself into the water, swam after the sinking body,
and soon succeeded in dragging the unhappy man to
the other bank, whom, by his tonsure and dress, he
guessed to be a priest. Overcome with fatigue, the
youth fainted. When he recovered his senses it was
broad daylight, and the body of the priest was gone —
carried off, doubtless, by some charitably-disposed per
sons who had been passing. That circumstance did
not check the young man's eagerness to make his dep
osition before the alcalde of the nearest village ; but,
though a pursuit was set on foot, it was unsuccess
ful." My guide checked himself at this moment. As if
we had arrived in the region of clouds, a mist envel
oped us, which gradually converted itself into a fine
and almost impalpable, but soaking rain. The torch
sputtered, and gave forth a very feeble glimmer. The
water ran off the bronzed body of the miner in streams.
The machine again stopped, and I felt a new sinking
of heart, similar to the feeling one has on the deck of
a laboring ship, when he thinks that every moment he
is going to the bottom. A short and terrible appre
hension increased the fear of immediate danger which
had come over me. I fancied that the strap which
bound me to the cable had slipped, and I was sliding
downward. I gave a convulsive shudder.
" Has the strap got loose ?" cried the miner ; then,
looking downward, and seeing me always at the same
distance from him, he continued, with imperturbable
calmness : "A short time after the disappearance of
the passer, about whom the strangest stories were
12

202 THE miner's story.
noised abroad, a new miner came to work at Rayas,
which is about a dozen leagues from Rio Atotonilco.
He said he had served his apprenticeship in the neigh
boring state of Cinaloa, and by his good-humor and
liberality (for he appeared to have other resources be
sides his daily pay) soon gained the friendship of all
his fellow-workmen. My son Felipe was the one he
attached himself to more than any of the others.
There was, however, between him and Osorio (that
was the new miner's name) a complete dissimilarity in
age and disposition. Felipe was a rough, unpolished
workman, jealous of the reputation he had acquired,
and haughty as a miner ought to be ; for we have no
need of ancient privileges to distinguish us from the
vulgar, our profession ennobling the right that is grant
ed us. Osorio, on the other hand, who was twice the
age of Felipe, seemed to look upon labor as a burden,
and passed his time in thrumming a guitar and preach
ing insubordination to the mandones (overseers). How
ever, their friendship might have been of a lasting na
ture had they not both fallen in love with the same
woman. This was the first time that they ever had a
sentiment in common, in spite of their intimacy, and
this was what produced the first quarrel. They con
tinued, however, in spite of these differences, to pay
their attentions to the fair damsel; for, though she
preferred Felipe, she could not give up Osorio's music
and merry good-humor. The frequent absence of the
latter gave a great advantage to Felipe. During one
of Osorio's times of absence, a report spread abroad
that the Cathedral of Guanajuato had been burgla
riously entered, and that a monstrance of massy gold,
adorned with precious stones, had disappeared from
the place in which it was usually put. This sacrile-

the miner's story. 203
gious theft struck the clergymen of the town with hor
ror ; but all their exertions to discover the daring rob
ber were in vain. In the absence of Osorio, Felipe
had succeeded in gaining the first place in the affec
tions of the maiden to whom both had been paying
their addresses. Her parents resolved to marry her
to him, as it would tend to cut short the incessant
quarrels that were ever taking place between them.
The wedding was to take place in a short time, and
all the friends of both families assembled at the young
woman's house to celebrate their betrothal. Brandy
and pulque flowed profusely, and music enlivened the
feast, when an unexpected occurrence brought every
thing to a stand-still. A man stood in the midst of
the guests ; that man was Osorio. Every one knew
his violent disposition, and his sudden appearance
caused all to tremble. Felipe alone remained cool,
and waited, knife in hand, the attack of his rival ; but
he, without putting his hand to his belt, advanced into
the circle, and apologized for having come without an
invitation ; then, taking a guitar from one of the mu
sicians, he seated himself on a barrel of pulque, and
began to improvise a bolero. This unexpected event
caused a general surprise, and the merriment was re
doubled. The party, interrupted for a moment, be
came more boisterous, and it broke up to assemble
again on the eighth day afterward."
Here the narrator paused. We were gradually ap
proaching the mouth of the tiro, as I could discover
by the light shining through the fog which still envel
oped us ; besides, the higher we got, the gulf below
appeared more frightful.
" Do you know what distance we are from the bot
tom of the mine?" cried the guide. " Five and a half

204 THE miner's story.
times the height of the towers of the Cathedral of
Mexico." To confirm this assertion, the miner drew from his
belt a bundle of tow steeped in pitch, which he lighted
at his torch. My strained eye could scarcely follow
it as it slowly descended the pit hke a globe of fire,
till it gradually became small as one of those pale stars
whose light scarcely reaches our earth. The voice of
the miner, who again began his recital, turned my mind
away from this reflection.
" From that night on which Osorio showed himself
at the betrothal, Felipe was annoyed in a thousand
ways by some unknown hand. On the very next day
a blast was fired close to him, and covered him with
fragments of rock ; another time, when he was at a
considerable height in one of the galleries, the rope to
which he was suspended broke suddenly. These at
tempts being unsuccessful, vague assertions began to
be bruited abroad, accusing poor Felipe as the thief
who had stolen the monstrance. The brave young
man was unwilling to recognize in Osorio the author
of these foul calumnies. His eyes could hardly have
been opened to the evidence that he was his calumni
ator, had not a young miner, who constantly watched
Osorio, and who had lately entered the mine, apprised
Felipe of the snares that were laid for him. Felipe
resolved to seek his revenge. On the evening of the
day on which the marriage was to take place (for all
this had passed in less than a week), Osorio and Felipe
met in the subterranean galleries of the mine. Felipe
reproached Osorio with his treachery ; Osorio replied
by recounting the injuries he had suffered ; the two
then drew their knives. They were alone and almost
naked; their frazadas were their only shields. Oso-

THE miner's story. 205
rio was the stronger, Felipe the more agile ; the issue
of the combat was therefore uncertain. All at once
the young miner of whom I have spoken threw him
self between the two combatants. 'Allow me,' said
he, to Fehpe, ' to punish this sacrilegious robber ; ray
claim is anterior to yours.' Osorio gnashed his teeth
and threw himself on the young miner, who stood grim
ly on his defense. The two then began to fight by
the light of Felipe's torch, who had now become a spec
tator instead of an actor. With their frazadas wound
round their left arms to hide their lunges, they com
menced the combat. Perhaps the struggle would have
been a long-protracted one had not the young miner
adopted the following stratagem : he took such a po
sition as allowed the covering on his arm to sweep the
ground ; then, behind the veil which masked his move
ments, he slipped his knife into his other hand, and
gave his adversary a mortal wound. Osorio fell. He
was drawn up by the grand shaft in a costal* By
chance a padre happened to be passing the mine at
that moment. They besought him to come and con
fess the wounded man ; but scarcely had the dying
man and the padre looked at one another than a cry
of horror broke from the priest. The holy father had
recognized in the wounded man the passer of the Rio
Atotonilco. Osorio discovered in the priest the man
he thought he had drowned, but who had escaped as
if by a miracle from almost certain death. After that,
by the investigations of justice, many mysteries were
cleared up. The passer of the Rio Atotonilco, the
sacrilegious robber, the miner of Zacatecas, and also
of Rayas, were one and the same person. The gar-
rote did justice to the crimes of this wretch, and it was
* A kind of basket formed from the filaments of the aloe.

206 conclusion of the miner's story.
his hand you saw nailed to the wall in the grand square
of Guanajuato. I must now tell you what became of
Felipe. The providential recognition of the victim and
his assassin was soon noised abroad, and a few hours
afterward a band of alguazds appeared to arrest the
miner who had stabbed Osorio. Unluckdy, on that
day Felipe had quitted his work sooner than ordinary.
I do not know by what fatal mistake he had been
pointed out as the murderer of Osorio ; perhaps it was
an additional token of good-heartedness on that cai
tiff's part — at any rate, the alguazds came to seize him.
The victorious combatant had escaped, and I need not
tell you that this mortal enemy of Osorio's was no
other than the young man whom he had ill used, and
who was a witness of the crime he had committed on
the Rio Atotonilco. Had Felipe remained under
ground, the alguazils would not have ventured into
the inner workings of the mine, for the miners would
not have suffered any injury to be inflicted on a com
rade in their fueros. The alguazils perceived the
young man in one of the courts of the mine buildings,
and immediately set off in pursuit. Felipe saw he
was lost ; but he resolved to die a miner's death, and
not suffer himself to be dishonored by the touch of
the bailiffs. Having arrived at the brink of this very
shaft quite out of breath, ' I will not be insulted as if
I were a vile lepero,' he cried ; ' a miner is more than
man ; he is the instrument whom God delights to em
ploy!' Then, with pale face and gleaming eyes, he
leaped over the balustrade surrounding the shaft, and
disappeared in the black gulf which now yawns be
neath your feet."
The miner paused, and the light of his torch grew
dim. High above our heads, at the mouth of the

A TRIAL OF MY COURAGE, 207
shaft, appeared the first gleam of daylight, like the
pale blushes of early morning. The impression which
the miner's story had made upon me was so great that
I could not help trembling in every limb.
" It was very nearly ten years ago," said the miner,
in a hollow voice, " since Felipe threw himself down
this abyss, and I have never ascended the shaft since,
and that has been often, without having a strong de
sire to cut the cable."
And the madman brandished a large knife, as if he
were preparing to carry it really into effect. I would
have called aloud for assistance, but, as in a frightful
dream, my tongue refused to perform its office. My
hands even refused to grasp the rope. Besides, what
good would it do me ? the cable was going to be cut
right above my head. I threw a mournful look at the
pale light which was tinging the green walls of the
shaft, and listened to the indefinite noises which told
me we were slowly approaching the haunts of men —
the dusky daylight appeared so beautiful — the con
fused noises above seemed such delightful harmony.
At this moment a peal of subterranean thunder burst
up under my feet, and the mine roared through its
many mouths like a growling volcano. The com
pressed air being inclosed in this enormous siphon, a
powerful blast, equal to that of a strong whirlwind,
shook the cable like a silk thread, and we received
several severe bruises against the rocks. The torch
was blown out ; but, luckily, the terrible knife slip
ped from the miner's hands, and went whirring down
the shaft.
"Cascaras ! a new knife gone, worth two piastres,"
cried a voice, which I immediately recognized as that
of Fuentes. I had scarcely pronounced his name ere

208 THE ASCENT finished.
a great shout of laughter burst forth right above me.
It was Fuentes indeed, who had come down to serve
me as a guide, and play the part of the old miner.
The extreme eagerness I had shown to get rid of him
prompted him to this kind of revenge.
"Do you know, Senor Cavalier," he remarked,
"that you are not easily frightened? In a situation
such as would have tried the nerves of the bravest
man, you did not even condescend to shout for help."
" Certainly not," I replied, with an impudence which
surpassed his own; "you see you have only made
yourself ridiculous by trying to frighten me."
The malacate now stopped ; we had finished our
ascent. Desiderio was first unloosed, and I waited
my turn in feverish anxiety. When the strap which
bound me to the cable had been untied, I could scarce
ly keep myself from fainting outright. I soon recov
ered my senses, however. I pressed the earth with a
kind of rapture. Never had Nature seemed so beau
tiful, so resplendent, as on that day.
In the interval that passed while our horses were
getting ready, Fuentes, who had resumed his gaudy
dress, stood silently by, and I took care not to be the
first to speak. My foot was already in the stirrup
when an old man came up to me. I could scarcely
recognize, in the person whose dress vied in richness
with that of Fuentes, the old miner whom I had seen
a few hours before kneeling at the altar.
" You will pardon me for having broken my word,"
said he to me ; " but my work detained me longer
than I expected. You must have heard the explosion
in the mine : it took place not half an hour ago."
" True," I replied. " I have been also told a touch
ing and very mournful story."

NOBILITY OF THE MINER. 209
" My boy behaved nobly," replied the old man, rais
ing his head proudly ; " and you can tell in your own
country that the miners are a race by themselves, and
that they know how to prefer death to dishonor."
I have seen the gold-seekers in the state of Sonora,
and could not help admiring the kind of grandeur which
characterizes their physiognomy, for every thing in the
desert takes the largest proportions ; but in the towns
the type of the miner was far from exercising upon
me a like fascination. The whimsical and capricious
character of Fuentes, and the immorality of PlaniUas,
had brought about this disenchantment. The story I
had heard, while it helped to make up my mind partly
about the class, proved that the miner had not quite
degenerated : the vices of Planillas, and the oddities
of Fuentes, like the dark shades in a picture, disap
peared before the austere figure of that old stoic who
had bidden me farewell with such haughty expres
sions, and I forgot Osorio only when I called Fehpe
to remembrance.

CHAPTER IV.
Rencounter with Don Tomas Verduzco.
I FANCIED a favorable moment had at last arrived
for taking leave of Fuentes, for whom I entertained no
good feeling, though a regard for myself caused me to
conceal it.
" What !" said he, " are you going to town ? I am
going there also ; and you wiU find it more cheerful to
have a companion by the way."
We set out. Daylight was fast ebbing away, and

210 PLANILLAS MISSING.
it was doubtful if we should reach Guanajuato before
nightfall. Desiderio kept up a continual flow of talk
about the sayings and doings of the miners, and what
an'excellent profession he belonged to ; but I took no
interest in his conversation, and inwardly imprecated
the bore whom I could not shake off. All at once he
stopped, and struck his forehead with the palm of his
hand. " Yoto al demonio /" cried he. "I have forgotten
the unhappy devil for these two hours, and he may
have bled to death by this time."
"Whom do you refer to?"
"Planillas, to be sure."
Almost at the same moment Fuentes went off at a
gallop. I had now got a capital opportunity of rid
ding myself of him ; but my curiosity prevailed, and
I hastened after him. When we had arrived at a
place not far from where we had that morning met
Planillas plunged in grief, sitting on the carcass of the
mule, Desiderio paused, and made a gesture of sur
prise. "I don't see any body," I said.
"No more do I, and that's what astonishes me.
True, he must have been tired waiting. It is very
shabby of him ; and another time I won't believe him.
However, it is more than probable that some charita
ble person has removed him, for he had excellent rea
sons for remaining there till the sounding of the last
trump." " What has happened to him ?"
"Look!" said Fuentes, pointing to the earth dyed
in blood, and to the mule which the vultures were
then preying upon. The miner added that, in the
morning after leaving me, he had returned to ask some

A STRATAGEM.  RECKLESSNESS. 211
questions of Planillas, whose crooked morality made
him an object of suspicion. Not finding either him
or the mule at the place he had left them, he had fol
lowed their traces, and having arrived at the spot
where we now were, found poor Florencio lying on the
ground almost insensible, and bleeding profusely. He
had then learned the truth from the lips of the wound
ed man. The mule, which Florencio and his compan
ion were dragging to a solitary place, had died, it is
true, in the hacienda de platas ; but Florencio had
never seen the animal tdl that day, and the cause of
his tender solicitude was, that its flanks contained a
number of silver ingots which Planillas had stolen and
hidden there, so that the clerk of the mines might not
discover them. The stratagem had been successful ;
but when they came to divide the spoil, after having
drawn it to a stifl more solitary spot, a quarrel arose,
and the result was, that Planillas got nothing but a
couple of stabs from the ready knife of his neighbor,
which had placed his life in great danger.
" You can guess the rest," continued Fuentes. "I
could not help being sorry for the fellow, and went
away, promising to send him assistance. I can't teU
hoW it is, but I completely forgot the poor devil."
Fuentes was right in not boasting of his second im
pulse. As for this reckless indifference to human life,
I had seen too many similar instances in Mexico to
be at all astonished at it. I rode sadly back to Gua
najuato, still in the company of Fuentes, who did not
fail to stop me at the little pent-house in which the
hand of the sacrilegious robber was exposed. This
memorial of a barbarous justice reminded me that I
had observed some imperfections in the miner's story.
" If I understood you aright," I said, "of the three

212 EXPLANATION OF THE MINER'S STOR?.
persons, actors and witness, who were present at the
duel between Osorio and the young miner, two are
dead, and the third escaped. How comes it, then, that
you can speak so positively about actions of which no
person could have informed you ?"
"Very simply," replied Fuentes. "I had forgot
ten to tell you that it was I who kiUed Osorio ; it was I
who witnessed the deed on the Rio Atotonilco. Don't
think, however, that I am an utterly heartless bravo
like that Don Tomas, surnamed Verdugo* I have
given, it is true, more than one stroke in my time ; but
in Mexico one must see a httle justice done to one's
self. Were you not yourself on the very point of kill
ing a man this morning ? And don't you think that
a similar case might perchance happen to me ?"
I shuddered at this rude speech, which reminded me
of the danger I ran by remaining any longer in Gua
najuato. The man whose life I had threatened that
day was, I had no doubt, the murderer of Don Jaime.
It may be easily imagined that I felt some degree of
satisfaction in finding myself safe at the door of my
hotel. "Ah! you live here?" said Fuentes, grasping my
hand ; "lam very glad I know ; I shall call on you
to-morrow, and we shall have a pleasant day together."
" Well, to-morrow," I said. We parted, and I en
tered the inn.
My valet Cecilio waited on me with as much impa
tience as curiosity in his countenance. He had been
long obliged to make himself acquainted with all the
particulars of my life, but seldom had he been neces
sitated to follow me into such a maze of disagreeable
incidents. I interrupted his questions by ordering
* Lit., poniard.

MY MUSINGS ABOUT DON JALME. 213
him to have our horses saddled at midnight, as I wish
ed to avoid both Fuentes and the treacherous designs
of Don Tomas.
"After this," said I, "we shall travel only at night;
it is better for the health."
By traveling at night and sleeping during the day,
I reasonably hoped to baffle all pursuit. However,
grown bolder by success, I returned to my ordinary
habits ; and when I came to the venta of Arroyo Zar
co, it was midday before I arrived, after having pass
ed the night at San Juan del Rio, and journeying al
most the whole day. In this last stage of my excur
sion many sorrowful remembrances crowded into my
mind. The plain, the venta, alike reminded me of
Don Jaime. It was while musing sadly on this
young man, so prematurely cut off, that I found my
self, almost without knowing it, at the very spot where
he had lighted his fire. Of so many dreams of love
and fortune, what was left behind ? A corpse three
hundred mdes away, a few burned sticks, and some
ashes which the winds of the plain were scattering
about ! The supper-hour approaching, I went to pass
away an idle hour, if not at the common table, at least
in a room where aU the travelers, and they were nu
merous on that day, were generally accustomed to take
their meals. The company consisted, as it had done
before, of a curious mixture of aU classes of Mexican
society, but I had no end in view as I had then, and
accordingly seated myself in a corner after looking
around me with a careless eye. I thought for some
time on the cruel isolation to which foreigners are sub
jected in those countries inhabited by people of Span
ish extraction, when the hostess pronounced, almost at
my ear, the name of a person that made me start.

214 SUDDEN REAPPEARANCE OF DON TOMAS.
" Seiior Don Tomas," cried the hostess, " here is
a foreigner who was inquiring after you a fortnight
ago, and whom I was telling you about just now."
I jumped up. In the man whom the hostess had
addressed, and which a secret feeling in my own mind
convinced me was the person, I recognized the sinister
companion of Planillas. A cold shudder ran through
my whole frame. I looked at the by-standers, but I
could see on their countenances only that expression
of apathetic indifference which makes a comedy or a
tragedy a matter of mere moonshine to them. Almost
immediately, and before I was able to prevent it, I
was strained between two strong muscular arms. I
disengaged myself without any ceremony, but he af
fected not to perceive the repugnance with which he
had inspired me.
"Ah!" cried he, with an impudence seldom to be
met with, " how happy am I at meeting here a cava
lier who has won my entire regard ! What ! were
you inquiring after me ? In what can I serve you ?"
"It was all a misconception on my part, I can as
sure you ; but, if you have not forgotten your visit to
the Secunda Monter'illa,* you may perhaps recall to
your memory your object in coming there."
" Do you live there ? You can then boast that you
have come more than two leagues in search of me.'
" I have gone two hundred and forty to meet you,"
I answered, " and find you here at last."
The bravo replied by the same constrained smile I
had seen his face wear the first time I met him. "I
was seeking for a foreigner with whom I had been en
gaged to do a Httle business, and an error that I now
recognize alone conducted me to you ; but I know
* The street in Mexico where I lived.

ASSURANCE OF THE BRAVO. 215
you now, Sefior Cavalier, and will not commit the
same blunder a second time. I only need to see a
person once to remember him ever after. I never for
get faces, even at the end of twenty years."
These last words were accented in such a way as
to leave me in no doubt of the ruffian's meaning. I
said not a word, but the bravo seemed to have repent
ed of having shown any resentment. Turning to the
hostess, and in a tone of rough gayety,
"Halloo, PatronaP cried he; "you have doubt
less supplied this cavalier, whom I hold in particular
esteem, with the best fare your house affords ?"
" I have supped," I said, interrupting him, " and I
must only express my perfect satisfaction with our
hostess's arrangements ; besides, I am not hungry."
" Well, we shall drink to our unexpected meeting.
Patrona, bring us a bottle of Catalonian brandy."
I was quite at a loss how to decline this forced in
vitation that prudence was urging me to accept, when
Captain Don Bias P  , or rather lieutenant, for he
held the former title only by courtesy, rose from the
table, and advanced to welcome me.
" You are one of us, captain, I hope ?" said the
bravo. The captain accepted his offer; but, emboldened by
his presence, I formally refused.
"I am much jaded and tired," I said, "and would
rather go to my room. Captain Don Bias, if your
road lies the same way as mine, I should be happy to
profit by your company, and to-morrow at break of
day we might pursue our journey to Mexico tegether."
Don Bias excused himself at not being able to agree
to my proposal hf stating that certain very important
business would detain him all next day in the neigh-

216 THE BRAVO SHAKEN OFF.
borhood. He then sat down opposite Don Tomas,
before whom the hostess had already placed the bottle
of Catalonian brandy.
" Good-night, then, senores, " I exclaimed. " I hope
your slumbers will be as refreshing as mine."
I settled my bill, and, disguising my precipitate
retreat under an air of haughty defiance, quitted the
room with measured steps, the bravo all the while re
garding my motions with indirect glances. I reached
my room, fearing more the oily silkiness of Don To
mas than his anger. I found Cecilio sleeping on our
saddles. "Listen!" I said, awakening him. "Saddle our
horses immediately without any noise ; then bring
them round to the back of the venta, and wait for me
there. In a quarter of an hour I shall be with you."
That time had hardly elapsed when I quitted the
hostelry without being observed. My flight at this
time formed a striking contrast to that which I had
shared so cheerfully with Don Jaime. I need not say
that we covered the distance between Arroyo Zarco
and Mexico still more rapidly than on our departure :
the parts only were changed. The man before whom
I was flying was that very person I had been pursu
ing so long. Thank heaven, the issue of this adven
ture was not tragical, as I feared at one time it would
have become.

(JIaplam Pan 5la0 cmfr tb.t Stbtr (Eonrjorj.

CHAPTER I.
Threatened Insurrection in Mexico. — Stealthy Movements of Troops. —
General Don Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna.
The day was approaching on which I was to leave
Mexico for Vera Cruz, to embark for Europe. For
several years before this a Yankee company had estab
lished a line of diligences which ran between several
of the largest towns ; wagons, also, for the conveyance
of heavy goods, competed with the picturesque cara
vans of the arrieros on ad the principal roads. Ought
I to give up my habit of solitary traveling for no other
reason than the quickness of transit between Mexico
and Vera Cruz ? I must then renounce the hospital
ity of the venta, so pleasant after a long ride- — the si
esta under the shade of a tree — the friendly connection
of horse and rider, and all the enlivening contingen
cies of solitary travel. I must confess that I could
not look upon this innovation, due to the foreigner
who had brought Vera Cruz within four days' journey
of Mexico, without some degree of abhorrence. I felt
that, under the influence of more rapid communication,
the ancient appearance of Mexico was beginning to
alter. I groaned and chafed like an antiquarian who
sees rude hands defacing some rare and ancient medal.
The establishment of this new kind of conveyance in
K

218 THE silver convoy is ORGANIZED.
Mexico had been attended with annoyances of a most
dangerous character. Well-organized bands of rob
bers turned the innovation to account, and not a dili
gence passed without being pillaged. The remem
brances of my ancient relations with the Mexican sal-
teadores, ordinarily so courteous to every traveler un
encumbered with baggage, rendered the prospect of a
similar humiliation very disagreeable. The pillaging
part of the business was not a thing at all to my mind ;
besides, the idea of passing several days in a close car
riage, drawn by four swift steeds, and bounding over
a Mexican road rutted by heavy rains, and covered
with large pieces of rock, was a mode of traveling not
at all in accordance with my habits and tastes.
A mere accident caused me to decide what course
to follow. Several merchants in Mexico, profiting by
one of those political lulls so rare in the republic, were
about to send a rich convoy of sdver {conducta de
platas) to Vera Cruz. Some muleteers were loading
their mules with sacks of piastres, inclosed in little
wooden boxes, in the great court of one of the houses
in the street of Monterilla, where I lived. The sight
of these preparations had drawn a great crowd of spec
tators around the gate, myself among the rest. When
the mules had received their precious burden, they all
instinctively huddled together in a corner of the court.
A score of mozos de viulas (stable-helpers) kept up a
running fire of oaths while at their work. Under the
archway of the court the arriero* brought matters to
a close by signing the bdls of lading, and invoking the
Virgin and all the saints to give him a safe and suc
cessful trip, every now and then stopping to scold the
helpers. In the street, the multitude speculated on
* A kind of farmer

CONVERSATION OF THE LEPEROS. 219
the possibility of such a rich lading surviving the per
ils of a long and dangerous road, while the greatest
part of the spectators in tatters did not take the least
pains to conceal their real sentiments.
" Canario /" said a lepero, covering a breast seamed
with scars with a cloak almost torn to ribbons, " if I
had only a beast like the one that cavalier has between
his legs !"
And he eyed a horse, black as jet, which a ranchero
was riding. The animal, tightly reined in by his
rider, champed his bit furiously, and threw the foam
to the right and left. I could not help admiring the
beauty of the horse, and remarking at the same time
the firm but easy seat of the cavalier, who seemed to
manage his steed only by his own will, a quality pos
sessed in the highest degree by the gentlemen of
Mexico. " Well ! what would you do if you had, Gregorito?"
asked one of his companions.
" Canario ! I would accompany the conducta to a
spot on the road I know well ; and though, as you are
well aware, I am no braggart, I should count myself
very unlucky if one or two such loads did not fall to
my share."
" One or two loads, Gregorito !" said the other, in
a tone of surprise.
" Yes, three loads at most. You know I never had
very much ambition, but the horseman there seems to
have even less than I."
The ranchero, in appearance at least, looked on the
whole convoy with disdain, -but what was passing
through his mind it was impossible to tell from his
face. Meanwhile a squadron of lancers, designed to serve

220 SUSPICIOUS CONDUCT OF THE LEPERO.
as an escort, had great difficulty in keeping the crowd
out of the court, among whom Gregorito was one of
the most modest in the expression of his desires. The
fluttering rags of the leperos, and the waving pennons
at the points of their lances, formed a curious contrast.
The loading was- at length completed, the last mule
left the court, and the detachment formed up to accom
pany the convoy. The crowd gradually melted away,
and at last only the ranchero remained, who appeared
to be counting the mules with care, besides eyeing at
tentively every individual ¦mozo. At last the ranchero
began to put his horse in motion. At this moment
the lepero Gregorito approached him, and begged him
to allow him to light his cigarette at his. A long and
animated conversation, in a low tone, took place be
tween the two men, but I paid little heed to an inci
dent which appeared to me so insignificant. I left the
place, and went home.
The sight of the convoy awakened in me a desire
which I was not long in putting into execution. The
departure of the convoy, whose escort I could easily
join, would furnish me with the only opportunity I
should ever have, not only of escaping the ennui of a
ddigence, but also of satiating my curiosity by explor
ing, in perfect security and by short stages, the long
route between Mexico and Vera Cruz. The loaded
mules would travel but slowly, and I could easily re
join them, even though they were at several leagues
distance from Mexico — thanks to the proved swiftness
of my horse — so as to aUow me a couple of days even
to bid farewed to my friends. I began in all haste to
make the necessaiy preparations for departure. My
first object was to procure a horse for my servant. He
had been so ill mounted during our long journey whfle

I PROCURE A HORSE FOR MY SERVANT. 22 J
searching for, and flyingfrom, the bravo, that his horse
had broken down entirely after we re-entered Mexico,
and I had ordered him to replace it by another. As
for my own steed, one of those I had brought with me
from the hacienda of Noria, he nobly justified the name
of /Storm which I had given him ; the strength and
vigor which his free life in the desert had produced
rendered him fit to endure the hardest fatigues.
Cecilio went about the business immediately. I
told him that economy was to be considered in the
purchase, but the fedow did not conform too scrupu
lously to my instructions. A few hours afterward he
came to ted me that a picador, one of his friends, had
a horse to dispose of which seemed to come up to my
standard. In a few minutes, a sorry hack, of a dun
color, with hanging head and tottering legs, that ap
parently had escaped from the bull-ring, came slowly
into the court. I almost screamed when the picador,
with matchless effrontery, asked ten piastres for the
miserable brute ; but, considering that the only time
on which we needed to travel rapidly would be in join
ing the convoy, and that afterward short stages would
be the rule, I consented to the purchase. The picador
and Cecdio, seeing my impatience, began to expatiate
on the noble qualities that lay hidden beneath the
miserable skin of the wretched beast, and I paid the
knave the sum he demanded, knowing well that my
honest valet woidd partake in the plunder with the
picador. All my preparations being made, I determined to
set out next morning ; but a series of unforeseen
events retarded my departure for several days. The
time for sending this rich convoy of silver to Vera
Cruz appeared to have been ill chosen. A dull, vague

222 GENERAL DON ANASTASIO BUSTAMENTE.
feeling of uneasiness weighed on all men's minds.
The most alarming symptoms of an imminent politi
cal storm were apparent. Even on the very day after
the convoy had left Mexico, it was universally regret
ted that a lading so valuable had been exposed to the
dangers of a long road at this conjuncture, and several
circumstances, it must be owned, justified these fears.
General Don Anastasio Bustamente — after losing in
Europe, in learned retirement, the remembrance of his
country's misfortunes — had returned, and assumed the
presidency of the republic. If disinterestedness and
probity, joined to ardent patriotism, were sufficient to
govern a great state, Bustamente was the man for Mex
ico. Like almost all the generals who have attained
to power in Mexico, it was in the war of independence
that he showed what he was capable of performing.
A devoted friend and partisan of the Emperor Itur-
bide, he had taxed Santa Anna with the blackest in
gratitude in commencing his military career by revolt
ing against the one who had raised him from obscu
rity. This was the commencement of that personal
enmity which still subsists between the two generals.
During the time I was at Mexico, Santa Anna could
not be prevailed on to forgive Bustamente for having
forestaUed him in the presidency. For three years
Bustamente had been subjected to many trials. Two
years had scarcely elapsed since the taking of Vera
Cruz by the French, and already the emptiness of the
public treasury had compelled Congress to impose an
additional duty of fifteen per cent, upon imports.
Commerce languished by this measure. The decision
of Congress only augmented its sufferings. A gen
eral bad feeling began to gain ground in the state,
which, to all accustomed to the march of political

MY PRECAUTIONS AGAINST ASSASSINATION. 223
events in Mexico, seemed likely to be employed to the
disadvantage of the existing government. Events
were not long in confirming the justice of these fore
bodings. The reader may not, perhaps, have forgotten a cer
tain lieutenant Don Bias, whom I had met at the ven
ta of Arroyo Zarco, and had left seated at table with
the bravo, Don Tomas Verduzco. The slight degree
of acquaintanceship which I had with this officer nev
er occurred to my mind without recaUing to memory
the mysterious relations which seemed to exist be
tween him and a man who I had every reason 1o
believe was my mortal enemy. Since my last meet
ing with Don Tomas I had been under a continual ap
prehension, but too well justified by the known ante
cedents of this ruffian.
I had, I believed, taken every precaution against an
attack which would, according to all appearance, be
made in the dark. Besides, I had conformed to the
rules of the strictest prudence by restricting myself
only to short walks from my place of abode. The
porter of my house was an old soldier of the wars of
independence, a brave and honorable man, who never
showed more vigilance than when he was intoxicated.
The result was, that the house could not have been
better guarded. I was, it is true, the first victim of
this excess of precaution on his part, for it was not
without the greatest difficulty that, on one occasion, I
prevailed upon him to unlock the iron chain that held
together the two leaves of the entrance gate.
The Angelus was still sounding from all the church
es in Mexico when, returning from a gallop on the
Paseo, I rode through the streets, as I fancied, for the
last time. Niglit was coming on when I gained my

224 A MEXICAN SOLDIER.
lodging, and it was not without a longer parley than
ordinary with the old porter that I succeeded in gain
ing admittance. Leaning against the wall to steady
himself and keep up appearances, the brave man, with
a bayonet in his hand, contented himself by jerking
his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of a sol
dier, who, seated on one of the stone benches of the
vestibule, rose up eagerly at my approach. A peakless
shako, too smaU for the head it covered, tottered on
the top of a dense thatch of thick yellow hair. A uni
form coat of thick cloth, and a pair of trowsers as
large as the shako was smaU; shoes, whose upper
leather had long parted company from the sole, not
only aUowing the toes to be seen, but also ventdating
on the most approved principles the wearer's feet, and
a complexion of a bright copper color, aU served to
stamp the man as a lepero who had been torn away,
by the exigencies of the service, from following his
profession of sleeping in the sun on the pavement.
However, a sort of picaresque and arrogant bearing
about the fellow showed that he was not insensible to
his profession, and to the splendor of his military
dress. The soldier, who was the asistente of Don
Bias, had been sent by him with a letter to me. I
recognized, in fact, his handwriting. The note ran
thus :
" My dear Friend, — I have just read with much
emotion, in a French novel that you lately lent me, a
story of two friends, who, when in need, aided one an
other with their purse and their sword. As I require
some money at present, I should be obliged by your
sending with the bearer, in whom I have every con
fidence, an ounce of gold, which I shall restore to vou

LIEUTENANT DON BLAS'S ASSURANCE. 225
on the first opportunity. I can ted you that this will
be a service with which the country wdl be as well
pleased as your devoted friend and servant,
"Q. S. M. B.,* "Blas P  .
"P.S. — On reflection, if you will bring the ounce
of gold yourself, it will be better ; and, to imitate the
devotion of those friends whose story has made such
an impression upon me, I offer you my sword."
I thought, as the lieutenant did, that the ounce of
gold would have a greater chance of coming into his
hands if I carried it myself.
"Where is your officer?" I inquired of the soldier.
"At the Guadaloupe gate."
" It is a pity," I said, " that the oracion has sound
ed, as we can not now ride thither."
" If it is the intention of your lordship to accompa
ny me, as my captain said you might," the messenger
replied, "he recommended you to go on foot."
In spite of the great honor that would accrue to me
by rendering this service to the Mexican nation, I
could not hide from myself that I would have the
worst of it in this chivalrous exchange of purse and
sword. However, the desire of knowing from the
mouth of Don Bias how much I ought to fear the re
sentment of the bravo with whom chance had brought
me acquainted, determined me not to allow this op
portunity to escape. I took time only to throw a
cloak over my shoulders, and hide- my pistols under
my coat. I then set out, fodowed by the soldier,
Still, I took care, while passing through the town —
which became more and more solitary as we approach-
* Que sirs mavos besa. — Lit., he who kisses vour hands.
K 2

226 1 MEET THE LIEUTENANT.
ed the suburbs — to walk in the middle of the road, as
wed to see ad who were approaching, as to avoid the
angles in the wall that might shelter ambuscades. I
arrived without accident at the Guadaloupe gate, some
times smiling at my terrors, sometimes shuddering at
some sudden noise. The night was very dark, and
the July rains were already announced by a thick fog,
the moisture of which rendered the pavement slippery.
"Shall we soon be there?" I asked of the soldier,
when we came to the gate.
" Immediately," he replied.
A drizzling rain succeeded the fog. We soon ar
rived at a road which ran between the lakes, without
the soldier showing any signs of having reached the
end of his journey. A thick mist, which hovered over
the water, hid the two snowy peaks of the volcanoes
which cap the Cordilleras. At last I perceived at
jome distance the lighted windows of a small house,
and very soon a confused sound of voices reached my
ear. Arrived at the house, the soldier tapped with his
bayonet, and the door opened. He entered first with
out any ceremony, and motioned me to follow him.
Under any other circumstances, I should have seen
nothing very extraordinary in this invitation ; but my
ideas having been running on ambuscades for the last
month, I hesitated about penetrating into such a cut
throat looking place. A voice that I knew put an end
to my hesitation : it was that of the Lieutenant Don
Bias, who was conversing with his asistente about the
L-esult of his mission. All my fears then vanished, and
[ entered. At the same time Don Bias sprang to
.neet me, and pressed me in his arms with all a Mex
ican's warmth. After the first compliments had pass
ed, he led me through a room (crowded with men of

OUR CONVERSATION. 227
ad grades), a kind of vestibule, into a spacious hall,
where some individuals of a higher rank sat round half
a dozen tables, drinking and gambling. They ad ap
peared to be military men, judging at least from their
mustaches, and Don Bias himself bore no other insig
nia of his rank than a round jacket, decorated with a
sort of epaulet on each shoulder, denoting only the bre
vet captain. We sat down at a table by ourselves.
The men looked at me in a way that was not altogeth
er pleasant or comfortable.
"He is a friend," Don Bias said, hastily; "he won't
betray us."
I had the best of reasons for being discreet on such
an occasion, and made no remark upon the words of
the lieutenant. We were served with an infusion of
tamarind with a strong dash of brandy in it ; I then
asked him, " How comes it that you did not, in per
son, ask for the favor you expected from me ? You
would have saved me a long walk, and a return home
alone in the dark."
"I am going to reply to your question," said the
lieutenant, stretching out his hand for the ounce of
gold, and putting it into his pocket. " The reason
why I have given you so much trouble is that I am
kept here as a kind of pledge for the money I owe ; as
for you, you will return home at daybreak in the com
pany of your very devoted servant."
" Does that mean that I am to be kept here as a
kind of pledge also ?"
" Not at ad ; but certain affairs will happen, two
nours hence, which will prevent you from returning.
At present I can tell you nothing farther."
Such a disclosure as this opened a wide field for
conjecture ; but I wished, at the moment, to obtain

228 SUBTERFUGE OF THE LIEUTENANT.
some information regarding an affair which touched me
more nearly.
" You were good enough," said I to the lieutenant,
" to place yourself at my disposal in exchange for the
smad favor that I was able to render you, and doubt
less you wdl be happy to learn that a very important
conjuncture makes it necessary for me to ask the as
sistance of your valorous sword."
A cloud came over the hitherto smiling face of Don
Bias, and I fancied that the lieutenant never thought
that he was so soon to be taken at his word. How
ever, he promptly recovered himself, and cried, "Play
is an unfortunate thing ! Caramba ! my sword is in
pledge with the rest of my accoutrements ; but what
have you done to need the loan of mine ?"
"It is your strong right arm, and not your sword,
that I require," I replied, smiling at the evasive sub
terfuge of the lieutenant. "The sword of the Cid
would be useless in my hands against an enemy so
formidable as — "
" Speak lower," said Don Bias, interrupting me and
twirling his mustache; "my rash bravery is well
known here. All are aware that danger electrifies me,
and it might be feared that I had lent for another mo
tive the weight of that arm which belongs to my coun
try alone."
The hectoring air of the officer made no impression
upon me ; but I had no wish to turn what was intend
ed only for a joke into something more serious. I de
sired only to know if the bravo had made me the sub
ject of conversation after my departure from the room
on that night I happened to be at Arroyo Zarco, and
it eased me not a little to hear that he had asked not
a single question about me.

WHY MEXICO IS UNPEOGRESSIVE. 229
At this moment the gadop of a horse rang on the
stone causeway, and almost at the same moment a
young lad, about fifteen years of age, bounced into the
room. By his mditary cap- — a kind of beret, orna
mented with a profusion of gold lace, as wed as his
uniform — I immediately discovered that he was a ca-
dete (cadet).
" Every thing goes on swimmingly, gentlemen,"
cried he; "the colonel is coming to receive his gen
eral's commission. This evening his division reach
ed Cordova. Valencia is advancing. In three days
we shad be masters of Mexico, and then I shad be
alferez /"
Ad in the room sprang to their feet ; and I asked the
lieutenant, by a motion of my eye, what I should do.
" Do you still wish to leave ?"
It was evident that I was witnessing the first act
of some new revolution which was about to take place,
and that I was a spectator of some of those little scene-
which serve as the prelude to some grand event.
Among the numerous causes which have tended to
exhaust the public exchequer in Mexico, and con
tributed to isolate the country from European prog
ress, the most deplorable and the most striking are,
without contradiction, those which prevail in the mil
itary executive. In a country whose geographical po
sition effectuady preserves it from ad rivalry with
neighboring nations, the army was, it may be said,,
disbanded at the declaration of independence, but in a
short time afterward it sprang again into existence.
Unhappily, the heads of the new republic only looked
to that power as an instrument for executing its own
ambitious designs. Since then, a warlike mania has
seized a people that had been pacifically disposed for

230 THE MEXICAN OFFICER.
three hundred years, and gradually the army had be
come accustomed to decide upon and settle all politi
cal questions. The result of this warlike transforma
tion is well known. To-day the pettiest Mexican of
ficer fancies himself caded on, not by a political con
viction, but only by his own ambition, to protect or to
overturn the established government. It would seem,
as one might say, that an article of the Constitution
gives to every one the right of becoming a colonel.
Accustomed since infancy to trample under foot all
civd institutions, the cadet, transformed into an officer
almost before the age of reason, and the soldier of for
tune, to whom a long series of pronunciamentos, in
which he has taken part, has given a commission, have
both in view the same design, a rapid promotion by
the same way, that of insurrection. Liable to be
broken at every instant by a sudden change in the
government, the officers have no hope of obtaining a
higher grade but by their swords. Then, according
to the fortunes of civil war, the officer who has fought
his way to a higher rank, or who has seen the banner
under which he fought leveled with the dust, has no
more chance of getting his pay from the new govern
ment than he had from the old. He thus constitutes
himself a creditor of the state till some stray bullet
closes his account forever, or till the time when he can
dip his fingers into the public purse, and become a
permanent debtor of those who have outstripped him
in his career. However, although the vicissitudes to
which the country has been subjected are numberless,
it is the exception, and not the rule, if the officer ar
rive at the head of affairs; his life, in such a case, be
comes only a continual series of annoyances. Then,
a revolutionist by ambition — a gambler by nature — a

AN APPROACHING INSURRECTION. 231
contrabandist on occasion — a knave by necessity — a
remendon de voluntades* when in want, the officer
practices every trade, deals in all sorts of merchandise,
and becomes at last more an object of pity than blame ;
for he knows nothing of business, and his country nev •
er has paid him for any service he has rendered her,
not even though he may have shed his best blood in
her behalf.
The news of an approaching insurrection was doubt
less soon communicated to the men in the other room,
for a deafening din drowned the general hurrah, in
which cries of Santa Anna forever ! Death to Busta
mente ! Down with Congress, and fifteen per cent. !
and others, of a like import, were shouted, and which
wid always find an echo in the hearts of people still
too young to know what true liberty is. When si
lence had been re-established, I questioned my friend
the lieutenant about the political movement ; but in a
hurried tone, "Tut!" he replied; "here you must
seem to know nothing. I shad make you acquainted
with every thing afterward. For the moment, I have
nothing more pressing than to pay my score and go
away. You must know that the country is as much
your debtor as if the debt had been committed to writ
ing, for its safety is concerned in the liberty of my
person." "About two such debtors I need have no fear," I
said, gravely ; " but how comes it that a mere civilian
has dared to place an embargo on a military man ?"
"Alas!" replied Don Bias, in a melancholy tone,
" one must borrow wherever one can. The misfor
tune is, that this inn is kept by an officer, and I only
learned that when, enchanted with the credit I re-
* Lit., Humorer of caprices.

282 METAMORPHOSIS OF JUANITO.
ceived here, I had used the place as if the owner had
been a civilian."
That the inn was kept by an officer was not at all
astonishing to one, like me, wed acquainted with Mex
ican manners, but that an officer had ventured to give
credit to a comrade appeared a piece of the most inex
plicable rashness.
" Halloo ! Juanito," cried the lieutenant to his asis-
tente. The man soon made his appearance in a cos
tume stid more picturesque than the one I had seen
him wear an hour before. His peakless shako stid
trembled on the top of his frightful mop of hair, but
he had donned the horseman's jacket instead of the
foot-soldier's coat ; and it being too short for him, a
large portion of his copper skin was exposed to view
above the waistband of his trowsers. The fedow was
evidently in a bad humor.
" What's the matter, muchacho?" asked Don Bias.
" The deuce !" cried Juanito, sharply ; " you called
me away at the very moment I was going to receive a
dragoon's helmet for my shako ; and who do you think
would be pleased with that ?"
" Request the huesped to come here," said Don Bias,
affecting not to perceive the rough reply of the soldier.
Juanito wheeled half round, and went out without
saying a word.
" That is a man devoted to my interests, and I over
look the liberties he takes in consideration of his de
votion," remarked the lieutenant, by way of apology ;
" devotedness is such a rare thing in this world."
The host was not long in appearing, and I imme
diately explained to him the position in which the lieu
tenant stood. The huesped was a man of Herculean
proportions, with broad shoulders and a florid com-

DON BLAS PAYS HIS DEBT. 233
plexion. He sported a formidable pad of mustaches
curled up at the ends. In a word, he had quite the
appearance of a valento (bully) of the first class.
"How much do I owe you?" inquired Don Bias;
" for it is always a pleasure to me to pay my debts."
"The fact is, if the rarity of the pleasure doubles
the value of it, the payment of a debt ought to be a
perfect treat to you," replied the host: "you owe me
fifteen piastres and a half."
" Fifteen piastres and a half!" cried the lieutenant,
jumping up hurriedly ; " demonio !"
And, handing the colonel the ounce of gold that he
had newly received from me, he received in return
change to the amount of four reals.
" Caramba ! colonel, you will give me a real more, I
hope," said the debtor, in a suppliant tone.
The host turned a deaf ear to this demand, and tak
ing from a press the sword and helmet of the lieuten
ant, he gave them to him, saying, " Take notice that
I charge you nothing for the trouble I have been at in
retaining these articles in pledge for two days."
The debt of Don Bias having been thus satisfac
torily arranged, he proposed a walk with me upon the
road. I unhesitatingly attributed this proposition to
the desire of making use of the liberty he had now ac
quired, but I was soon undeceived. The lieutenant
exchanged some words in a low tone with the other
officers in the hall, and went out, promising to let
them know every thing he saw or heard. I hastened
to fodow him ; for, in spite of the curiosity that pos
sessed me, I could not hide from myself the fact that
the place for a foreigner was not in the centre of a
band of conspirators, whatever their private opinions
on other points might be.

234 NIGHT IN THE ENVIRONS.
The rain had ceased. A thick mist still covered
the surface of both lakes, but their still waters already
reflected in their bosom a sky less sombre than before.
The volcano of Popocatapetl was still shrouded in
mist, while the snow of the neighboring mountain
sparkled in the gentle light of the moon. By her un
certain light the White Woman (Iztaczihuatl) looked
more like one of the pale Scandinavian divinities un
der a northern sky than an American nymph reclining
under that of the tropics. The lights of the town
went out one after the other, and a deep silence
reigned around. A confused noise, however, like the
wind agitating the reeds in the lake, at times came
stealing upon our ears.
"Come on," said Don Bias to me ; " it is close upon
the hour, and I am astonished that I have seen noth
ing yet."
"What are you waiting for?" I asked.
"You will soon see; come on."
After walking for about a quarter of an hour, the in
distinct noise which broke the stillness of the night
soon resolved itself into the tramp of a body of horse.
The sounds were deadened by the damp air, and the
soft, moist earth on which they moved. It was doubt
less a troop of cavalry on march. A dark mass was
not long, in fact, in advancing.
" Who goes there ?" cried one of the leaders.
"Friends!" replied Don Bias.
" Que genteV asked the same voice.
"Mexico!'''' was the lieutenant's reply. He de
manded, in his turn, where the division had come
from. "From Cordova," answered the same voice.
The troop passed, and we remained in the same

DESCRIPTION OF SANTA ANNA. 235
place. A little after, a second troop, and then a third,
came in sight, and made the same replies, and after
ward continued their march to Mexico. I saw noth
ing, however, in these men but ordinary travelers, for
there was little in their bearing that betokened them
as regular troops, when some distant lights sparkled
in the midst of the fog, and I fancied I heard repeat
ed vivas ; this was another band advancing. In the
centre, and clearly seen by the light of the torches,
rode two officers on fiery horses, in the costume of
country gentlemen — half military, half civilian. The
superior officer had a physiognomy and mien which
struck me forcibly, and awoke in my mind a feeling
of curiosity and vague remembrance. He was a man
apparently about forty-five years of age, of a lofty and
commanding aspect, and swarthy complexion. A high
forehead, which his hat but imperfectly concealed, and
a rounded chin, perhaps too large for the perfect regu
larity of his features, denoted obstinacy and resolution ;
a nose slightly aquiline, great black eyes full of ex
pression, and flexible lips, stamped him with an air of
haughty nobdity ; his strong black curly hair flowed
over his temples, and shaded his high cheek-bones.
I remarked, also, that his bridle hand was mutilated.
Don Bias made a gesture of surprise, and, scarcely
giving himself time to reply to the countersign which
was asked of him, bounded toward the officer on horse
back. " Your excellency ought not to forget that we arc
within a short distance of Mexico," said he, uncover
ing respectfully, " and prudence requires that you
come no nearer."
" Ah ! is it you, Captain Don Bias ?" said the cav
alier, stopping his horse ;, " I am very glad to see you

236 DON ANTONIO LOPEZ SANTA ANNA.
among us." Then, addressing himself to his cortege,
"You know well, seiiores," said he, " that the pleasure
I feel in finding myself once more among you has
caused me to forget my own safety; but the time is
not far distant, I hope, when I shall come again, and
find there," pointing to Mexico, "none but brothers
and friends."
After this speech he wheeled his horse half round,
and I could see that it was a wooden leg which rested
in the right stirrup. A general hurrah followed his
last words. The torches were hurled far into the
lake, and went out with a hiss, and all again was dark,
but not before I had recognized in the cavalier who
was conversing with Don Bias the man who for twen
ty-five years had been the evil genius of Mexico, the
cause and fomenter of all its revolutions — in one word,
General Don Antonio Lopez Santa Anna.

CHAPTER II.
The Colonel Inn-keeper. — Sharp Fighting in the Streets of Mexico. —
General Bustamente, President of the Republic.
The lieutenant and I remained alone. I asked him
to give me some explanation regarding the scenes of
which I had been a witness. He very eagerly gave
me some account of the discontent that prevailed
among ad classes, caused by the import duty of fifteen
per cent. It was, in fact, the bad feeling which arose
from this that had furnished the pretext for the new
pronunciamento. The numerous pedestrians we had
met on the way to Mexico were part of a regiment of
cavalry in garrison near the city. Don Bias had been
urged to entice them into the service of Santa Anna,

THE PROTECTION OF THE CONVOY. 237
with the promise, if successful, of getting a commis
sion as captain of cavalry. I then comprehended how
the asistente of Don Bias had shown so much eager
ness in procuring a cavalry uniform. Advantage had
been taken by the partisans of Santa Anna of intro
ducing the regiment which had been gained over into
the town in a civil dress, a thing of very easy execu
tion, as the difference between the civil and military
costume in Mexico is very small.
On returning to the inn, the lieutenant recounted
all that had passed to the officers assembled, who had
taken the initiative with their soldiers. They then
adjourned, as the project for which they had been wait
ing had been realized, and the officers rose to make
their way, one by one, into the town. Don Bias and
I, like the rest, set out on foot for the same place.
The soldiers passed in smad scattered bands through
different gates.
On the way, I pointed out to the future captain the
fears that I entertained about the fate of the convoy
of silver, exposed, as it were, to the attack of the in
surgents. " May I ask if you have any interest in that ?" said
he, sharply.
" None at all ; but the pdlage of the convoy would
entail considerable loss on some of my countrymen."
" There's no fear of that ; a powerful but hidden
protection is extended over the convoy. An extraor
dinary courier, that left town this morning, has seen
it put into a place of safety. The chief muleteer will
wait for the conclusion of events ; and the escort has
been intrusted to the command of a brave and faith
ful man. Why, I take as lively an interest in it as
yourself."

238 TROOPS MARCH UPON MEXICO.
"And for what reason?" I asked, astonished.
" Because we do not wish a crime to sudy the glory
of this coming revolution. And, besides, I am to be
the commander of the escort of the conducta.'"
I could hardly explain the heat with which the
lieutenant spoke of a piece of business that seemed to
offer no apparent advantage to him. But, without
asking any more questions, I contented myself by tell
ing him of the project that I had entertained of join
ing the conducta. Don Bias received this news at
first very coldly ; then, seeing me determined in my
resolution, he pretended that it would be no bad thing
to have me for a companion on the road. Unfortu
nately, it was impossible yet to fix a day for our de
parture ; and many dangers, although Don Bias per
haps exaggerated them, menaced the precious convoy.
Twenty-four hours after our arrival in the town, it
was rumored that Generals Santa Anna and Valencia
were advancing at the head of two divisions, to obtain
redress of those grievances which they affirmed they
had suffered under Bustamente's government. Events
now succeeded each other with startling rapidity. A
few skirmishes, and those not of an unimportant na
ture, had already taken place between the government
troops and the factious, who had advanced to invest
the Plaza Mayor, and had raised a barricade at the
corner of the streets San Augustin and Secunda Mon
terilla. It was learned afterward, to the general con
sternation, that the garrison in the palace, corrupted
by the rebels, had seized the person of the president
even in the palace itself. While this conflict was
raging I heard nothing of Don Bias, but on the morn
ing of the day that followed these events, some blows,
violently struck on the lodge gate of my house, awoke

HOW A CAPTAIN'S RANK IS GAINED. 239
me with a start. A few minutes after, the lieutenant
entered my chamber in a pretty plight. A long beard,
disordered hair, and a face begrimed with the smoke
of gunpowder, proved, or at least seemed to prove, that
he had taken an active part in the engagements of
yesterday. I congratulated him on his warlike ap
pearance. Don Bias received my praises with the air
of a man who knows his own merit, and informed me,
with a certain air of importance, that he had come to
occupy the terrace of my house with a body of his
men, as it commanded the palace square.
" I have chosen your house without even asking
your permission," said he to me, " because it is in the
neighborhood of the presidential palace, and also to
show you how a captain's rank is gained. I hope that
you will fodow me to the terrace, where my company
is already stationed."
"I shall assist at your triumph with much pleas
ure," I said; "and, if you will allow me to dress, I
shall be very happy to take my place near you ; only
I must keep out of the way of the balls, as I have not
the least honor to gain. But you are stid in the in
fantry, I see."
"I have very good reasons for making no change
as yet," replied the lieutenant, with some slight hesi
tation. "In a hubbub hke this, a horseman is too
much exposed — he is quite useless, I mean ; and, be
sides, how the devd have I the means of purchasing a
horse ?"
At this moment the door opened, and the helmet of
a dragoon was shoved in at the aperture. This helmet
covered the head of the asistente Juanito, who, more
lucky than his master, had found means, thanks to
monte, of half transforming himself into a horseman ;

240 ONLY HALF PRICE FOR CARTRIDGES.
for all that remained of his former costume was his
enormous trowsers, in which he seemed every moment
ready to be ingulfed.
" Captain," cried the asistente, " if you don't come
immediately and put yourself at the head of your men,
some misfortune may happen."
"What!" said Don Bias, "are my fedows so im
patient to come to blows ?"
"Oh no," replied Juanito, "they are in no hurry
for that — rather the contrary ; but upon the terrace of
the Ayuntamiento, opposite the house of this French
senor, stands that great rascal of a colonel you know
— the master of the inn who kept your lordship in
pledge. He proposes to buy our cartridges of us."
" And my braves have scouted the idea with indig
nation, I am sure ?"
" They did ; but that was because he only offered
them half price."
" Has this d — d colonel, then, betrayed us ?" cried
the lieutenant.
" That may be, Senor Captain. I am not in the
habit of meddhng in other people's affairs. The
colonel has perhaps changed his side for very good
reasons : who knows ?"
The officer started after the impassible Juanito, and
I dressed myself in all haste. I was curious to see
how, according to the expression of Don Bias, one at
tained the rank of captain. When I was almost on
the last step of the flight of stairs that led to the ter
race, I heard the word " Fire" given in a very loud
voice. I stopped. To my great astonishment, per
fect quiet reigned on the roof. A second command
was no better obeyed ; and it was not till after a third
that a report fodowed, but so feeble as to show that

I REPAIR TO THE TERRACE. 241
the cartridges, though only valued at half price, stdl
possessed such a value in their eyes as to prevent
them from being prodigady expended.
I opened the door of the terrace with ad imaginable
prudence, and stole along, protected by a wall which
ran round the azotea, and got behind one of the pdas-
ters, which rose turret-like at regular intervals.* I
had a telescope in my hand.
"What are you going to do with that glass?" in
quired Don Bias.
" Why, I never go to the theatre without my glass
— not even to a bull-fight. Should I have forgotten
it when I am come to secure the best place for seeing
the gigantic efforts of the combatants on both sides."
The future captain seemed to look with an eye of
envy upon the place in which I found myself in such
perfect security. I could clearly discern from my ter
race even the quadrangle of the palace and the adja
cent streets. The national flag floated no longer from
the roof of that building, and the president found him
self a prisoner in his own abode. At the opposite an
gle of the budding, through the grated windows of the
prison, which formed part of the palace, I espied the
heads of the prisoners, who were furious with excite
ment. The troops which had remained faithful to the
cause of Bustamente were ranged upon the grand
square, officers went and came, giving then: orders,
and cannon-wheels rumbled upon the pavement, whde
the distant booming of the heavy guns, and the white
smoke which rose in dense massy clouds behind the
houses, showed that, in those streets which were hid
den from my view, a fierce engagement was going on.
* Since the time of the Spaniards, these turrets or almenas denoted
the house of a nobleman. L

242 FIGHTING IN THE STREETS.
I could make out but imperfectly the places where the
combats were raging ; but, according to Mexican tac
tics, the same scenes were repeated on the tops of the
houses. The fighting on the terraces was on the same
plan as that pursued in the streets below. The roof
of the palace was covered with soldiers, forming part
of the garrison that had been brought over by Santa
Anna. These men kept up an incessant fire against
the troops of the colonel, thus placed between two
fires ; but the close proximity of Don Bias's detach
ment gave him the most serious alarm.
The lieutenant was just about to command his party
to fire again, and probably with more success than on
the two former occasions, when the tall colonel ad
vanced to the edge of the azotea to hold a parley ;
and, forming a kind of speaking trumpet with his two
hands, cried out, " Muchachos ! don't you see how
shabby it is of you to fire upon us in this way ? Ca-
ramba ! you show little discretion by it. Is it not
too bad for two to fight against one ? All brave men
think so."
" Traitor!" cried the angry lieutenant.
"Traitor! traitor! You are a pretty fedow, on my
word, my dear Don Bias ! One does not become a
traitor for mere pleasure ; and your notions of politics
appear to be behind the age. Ah ! have you got cav
alry on the roof?" cried he, pleasantly, observing the
gleam of the asistente's helmet in the sun.
"You have made my soldiers the most insulting
proposals," Don Bias replied.
"That's true," answered the colonel, "I did. I
have not offered them a reasonable price for their car
tridges, but I am ready to atone for my fault. "
A general hurrah, which burst from the lieutenant's

THE LIEUTENANT FALLS. 243
men, showed that he was regaining the ground he had
lost. " The colonel is no bad reasoner, it appears to me,"
said I to Don Bias.
" His reasons seem solid enough," he answered,
with the air of a man who seemed almost convinced ;
"but my duty obliges me to look on him as an enemy."
Affairs, however, appeared to be drawing to a pacific
conclusion, when the colonel added, " It is an under
stood thing, then, that we do not fire upon each other.
Besides, what would your captain gain by shooting
me? He does not owe me a single real."
This unhappy allusion, which brought to the lieu
tenant's mind the disagreeable circumstance that he
had been held in pledge for a debt of a few piastres,
kindled anew all his former hatred, and he exclaimed,
"Death to the enemies of our country! Fire upon
the traitors ! "
His men were astonished at such an unexpected
order, but they were forced to obey, and the two par
ties began to fire at one another with a want of success
only equaled by their obstinacy. The bads passed
above my head, and tore through the air with a sharp
whiz, simdar to that produced by thrusting red-hot
iron into water. Carefully squatting down in an angle
of the wall, I marked the countenance of Don Bias,
and I must say that it did not appear quite at ease,
when a fresh discharge was heard, and the lieutenant
fell. I ran toward him, but the asistente was before
me. Don Bias, lying at full length, gave no sign of
life. I saw Juanito shove several of the soldiers im
periously aside, and could not help admiring the fidel
ity of this man to his master, when, to my great sur
prise, he thrust his hands into the pockets of the lieu-

244 DON BLAS IS BORNE OFF.
tenant's uniform, and drawing them out empty, cried
out, with an air of disappointment, "Nothing! not a
real ! How can we expect to be properly commanded
by officers who have not a single real in their pockets ?
What if he had on cavalry trowsers!"
After such a funeral oration, this devoted servant
detached the gold epaulet from the lieutenant's shoul
der with the utmost coolness, and appropriated it to
himself by way of consolation. Don Bias breathed
feebly, opened his eyes, and begged to be conveyed
from the scene. of action. His orders were complied
with, and four men took him up in their arms. I
wished to accompany him, to see him laid on my bed
tid his wound could be examined. He objected strong
ly to that arrangement ; but I insisted, and made them
carry him to my chamber.
" This will not do," said Don Bias to me ; " pow
der and shot have no effect on an old soldier like me.
Go up again, and watch what turn matters are taking.
Victory will be my only cure."
I obeyed, and returned to the place I had left.
During my absence the colonel had proposed a cessa
tion of hostilities. It had been agreed to, and when I
regained my former position, both parties were ex
changing the most courteous salutations with each
other. The most serious affairs, however, were taking place
ad round us. Reassured by the peaceful attitude of
the soldiers of Don Bias and the colonel, I could ob->
serve more easdy the progress of events. The redoubt
established at the corner of the streets of San Augus
tin and Monterilla kept up continual discharges of
grape-shot, and the road was covered with the dead
and wounded. Some fed with ad the stoicism of the

CONTINUED ROAR OF THE CANNON. 245
Indian character, others uttering the most heart-rend
ing cries. The latter were principally those whom
curiosity had drawn to the scene of strife. Farther
off, in the direction of the barrier of San Lazaro, the
roar of the cannon was heard without a single pause ;
while in the street of Tacuba, opposite the palace, a
battery, established by the insurgent troops, swept the
square, and made large breaches in the wall which
surrounded the palace. Masses of rubbish increased
rapidly, the iron balconies were torn and twisted like
lianas in an impassable forest, and very soon a large
portion of the wall tumbled down. Then a man ad
vanced boldly to a dismantled window with so firm a
step as to overawe the crowd. I could distinguish in
his bold features all the marks of one of those vigor
ous natures which a kind of predestination seems to
push forward for the rude trials of a military life. This
man was, perhaps, the best citizen in Mexico. I had
seen General Bustamente too often not to recognize
him immediately, in spite of the distance which sepa
rated us. More grieved, doubtless, at the bloody scenes
which then filled the city, than careful of his own safe
ty, the general addressed to the seditious townsmen
some words which I could not hear. However, the
cannon still roared without intermission ; chips of
stone, struck from the sides of the window, began to
fly about him in showers ; but the president appeared
not to heed the. danger, which was increasing every
moment. A new incident drew the general attention.
The walls of the prison, torn by cannon shot, had
opened in many places, and I could see the prisoners,
shouting lustily, creep through the breaches, one after
the other, in spite of the storm of grape which swept
the square, and disperse themselves through the streets

246 A TRUCE.  THE COMBAT RECOMMENCES.
of the town. This completed the anarchy which reign
ed at this moment over the devoted city.
These sad scenes were beginning to disgust me,
when a temporary truce was arranged between the
combatants. A deep silence succeeded the booming
of the artillery ; the time had now come for both sides
to count their dead and to remove the wounded. I
went to my room, anxious to know how Don Bias was
getting on, but he was not there, and the bed on which
I had laid him was very little disarranged. On ques
tioning the people of the house, I learned that, at the
very moment the truce had been proclaimed, he had
been seen to descend the stairs and go into the street.
He had probably thought that it would be more rea
sonable and prudent of him to see after his much-
coveted rank of captain than remain quietly in my
house. Seeing, then, that his wound must have been
but slight, I went out also. In the streets they were
lifting the wounded, and carrying them into the houses.
As for the dead, their game had been played out, and
the pedestrian trod their bodies under foot with the
coolest indifference. They were already completely
forgotten. On the very next day, however, the combat recom
menced, and blood again flowed in the streets. Beat
en without being overcome, the executive annulled the
obnoxious law of fifteen per cent. A fud and entire
amnesty was granted to the insurgents ; and, issuing
from the gates of the presidential palace, marched, with
all the honors of war, a body of the factious citizens,
among whom I recognized, with no small dismay, sev
eral convicted felons, notorious in the annals of crime.
The ruins of fallen masonry which encumbered the
streets, the blood that had been every where shed, and

LEAVE-TAKING. — THE LAKES OF MEXICO. 247
the withdrawal of the obnoxious law, were the deplo
rable results of an insurrection which had brought in
its train twelve days of fighting and anarchy.

CHAPTER III.

Departure of the Convoy. — Victoriano, the Muleteer. — His sudden Di?-
appearance. — The Convoy is attacked by Robbers.
I purposed leaving Mexico now that order appear
ed established and commerce had returned to its wont
ed channels. I learned that the conducta was aheady
in motion. I still held by my purpose of making part
of the escort under the command of the Lieutenant
Don Bias ; and on the morning after a day spent in
taking leave of my friends, I traversed the streets of
Mexico for the last time, attended by my valet Cecilio.
Upon reaching the open country, the joy that had
taken possession of me at the idea of my speedy re
turn to Europe was slightly tinged by a vague feeling
of sadness. Mexico is still surrounded with lakes as
in the time of the Conquest ; but the appearance of
these stid waters, traversed by a magnificent road, has
been completely changed. The time is gone by when
they bore on their bosom the brigantines of Cortez and
the pirogues of the ancient inhabitants. Partly les
sened by evaporation and partly by drainage, the lakes
of Mexico preserve nothing of their former splendor.
The distant report of some sportsman's gun, and the
wild songs of the Indians, whose pirogues may some
times be seen making their way through the bending
reeds, at rare intervals break the mournful silence
which broods over the fields in their vicinity. Some

248 DISTANT VIEW OF MEXICO.
white aigrets — sitting motionless on the surface of the
water — white as the flowers of the water-lily, a few
water-hens, wdd ducks, and huge reptdes which shake
the aquatic plants as they pass, and here and there an
Indian angler standing up to the middle of his legs in
water, are the only living beings to be seen in these
solitudes. The heavens and the mountains are alone
unchanged ; and the same volcanoes, their tops cover
ed with eternal snow, stid shoot up aloft into the air
as they did three hundred years before.
Having arrived at Buena Vista, which commands a
view of the whole vadey of Mexico, I stopped to take
a last look of the beautiful plain at my feet. In the
midst of a belt of blue hills and smad villages, whose
white houses contrasted beautifully with the green of
the widows, the lakes assumed, owing to the distance,
something of their ancient glory. Mexico seemed stid
the city of the New World. I stopped for a moment
to contemplate the distant domes with a feeling of in
voluntary dejection. I looked for the last time upon
a city to which I had come with ad the curiosity and
enthusiasm peculiar to youth. Mexico was my halt
ing-place when I returned from my excursions in the
country round. It was like a second country to me ;
for, if infancy has its souvenirs dear to that state of
childhood, youth can not forget the place where the
flower of adolescence has shot up, and withered, alas !
too soon. I looked again at this fertile vadey, where
smiles an eternal spring ; and, to escape from the sad
ness which possessed me, put my horse to the gallop,
and the lofty towers of that city which I was never
more to behold were soon quickly lost to my view.
After passing a night at the venta of Cordova, my
road lay through the woods of Rio Trio, so notorious

TRANSFORMATION OF THE ASISTENTE. 249
for the robberies committed there in broad daylight,
and the smiling plains of San Martin, which strongly
remind one of those of the Bajio. The snowy peaks
of the volcanoes in the vicinity of Mexico were lighted
up by the last rays of a sun that sparkled like an ex
piring beacon-fire when I rode into Puebla. The con
ducta had passed through that town the same evening.
Puebla, the lofty towers of its convents, churches, and
cupolas ad covered with enameled tiling, looks at a
distance like an Oriental town overtopped with mina
rets. I halted a short time to rest myself, and on the
third day after my departure from Mexico descried
from a distance the red pennons of the lancers who es
corted the convoy.
In the first cavalier to whom I addressed myself
after overtaking the escort I could scarcely recognize
the asistente of Don Bias. The desires of this worthy
lepero on becoming a soldier had been completely sat
isfied, for, except that he had only a bottine on one
foot, a shoe on the other, and no straps to his trowsers,
his cavalry uniform left him nothing to desire. In
consonance, also, with military discipline, he had part
ed with his hair.
"Tell me, friend," said I, accosting him, "are you
still in the service of Lieutenant Don Bias ?"
" Captain Don Bias, if you please — for he has been
promised this rank as a reward for his heroic conduct
on your azotea ; and I have got my stripes also now.
I am his servant no longer. He is a captain in a regi
ment of lancers. You see a detachment of them here."
I proceeded onward, and, in spite of his new uni
form, had little difficulty in recognizing Don Bias.
The captain was riding gloomily at the head of his
troop. I congratulated him on his promotion, and in-
L 2

250 MY CONVERSATION WITH THE CAPTAIN.
quired about his wound. He reddened slightly when
he told me it had quite healed, and hurriedly asked
me if I had counted the cost of traveling with him. I
assured him it was my unalterable intention to accom
pany the convoy to Vera Cruz. Don Bias affected
much joy at my resolution, after which the conversa
tion fell quite naturady upon the dangers of the road,
the mishaps of which I thought I should escape in his
company. The captain shook his head.
" I am not so sure of that," said he. " I fear that
you are jumping from the frying-pan into the fire, for
the late troubles have increased the number of gueril
las.* And folks say that we shall probably have a
hard fight with the highwaymen in the gorges of the
Amozoque. The time is gone by when, under- a cer
tain viceroy, the standard of Castile, floating above a
silver caravan, was sufficient to protect it in its pas-

" I hope," I replied, " that the troop of lancers un
der your command wdl make up for the want of the
Spanish flag."
" God grant it !" returned Don Bias. "Although
I am not blind to the dangers we shall have to run, I
shall do my duty in every case."
The long file of richly-laden mules, each having a
burden of five thousand dollars in coined money, over
every one of which the guardians of the convoy kept
an incessant watch, was, in fact, a prize worth striking
a blow for. The road to Mexico presents the most
striking scenes incident to beauty in landscape, but
the thick woods, the deep gorges, and the narrow de
files which we had to traverse might be swarming with
robbers. I had scarcely passed a few hours among
* Bands of robbers

VICTORIANO, THE MULETEER. 251
my new companions ere I began to feel the want of
some amusement to dissipate the ennui attendant upon
a slow and monotonous march through a desert coun
try. The captain was assuredly a merry companion,
but his jokes were trite and commonplace. The sto
ries and songs of a muleteer who took the lead in that
kind of entertainment in our little troop were infinitely
more agreeable to me. He was a man of about thirty
years of age, called Victoriano. He had traveled this
road for several years, and had a story for every halt
ing-place. In the evening, under a starry sky, when
the mules, relieved from their burdens, munched their
maize under the manias which served them for a rack ;
when round the bivouac fires the sentinels mounted
guard over the treasure committed to their care, and
the other soldiers slept upon their arms, the captain
and I always had a new pleasure in listening to Vic
toriano, whose unflagging spirit found vent in pleasant
stories, or in songs accompanied by the mandolin.
I pitied then the travelers I saw whirled along in
the diligence like a flash of lightning, their horses gal
loping at the top of their speed, while the passengers
very likely would be pointing us out to their friends
as the only remnant existing of the old Mexican man
ners. A few more vices, I said to myself, and a few
less charms, are the only results of this parody of civ
ilization, which, up to the present time, has destroyed
every thing and constructed nothing. On these even
ings, round our watch-fire, living at once the hfe of a
muleteer and that of a soldier, I still experienced with
out adoy, even though on my way to Europe, the feel
ings incident to life in the Eastern deserts.
Since our departure from Puebla, Acajete, the haci
enda of San .Tnan. Tepeaea. and Santa Gertrndis (for

252 A VISIT TO PEROTE. — DESOLATE SCENE.
we had deviated from the ordinary route) had been so
many resting-places, marked by a certain quiet in
which the fatigue of the body is transferred to the
mind, and which seems to prove that the happiness of
a man consists in physical motion as much as in
thought. We had just passed the town and fort of
Perote. " Senor Cavalier," said Victoriano to me,
" you ought to go to see the fort. I can easily ac
company you to the gate, and, upon my recommenda
tion, you will be admitted without difficulty. You
can rejoin us afterward at Cruz Blanca, a httle village
about two leagues from here, where we shall pass the
night, and on your return I shall tell you a story about
it which made a great noise some years ago."
I took the advice of the muleteer, who, according to
promise, introduced me into the fort, the interior of
which I ran over at my pleasure in the company of an
officer, who was glad to attend me in the capacity of
guide. I was about an hour in the place, and, as the
sun was beginning to set, galloped at fud speed to join
the convoy.
I passed over one of those arid and desolate plains,
bristling with volcanic scorias, known by the name of
mal pais, upon which a scanty layer of earth adows
only a few stunted plants to grow. The wind, blow
ing in sudden gusts, seemed to moan as It struck the
sonorous leaves of the nopal and the clumps of juni
per. The wolves also began to howl frequently, and
the fog which was falling was so dense and cold that
I thought I was long in reaching the watch-fire at
which I expected Victoriano to fulfid his promise.
However, the fear of losing my way in the fog, which
hid the horizon, joined to the roughness of the ground,
forced me to slacken my pace, and night had faden be-

DISAPPEARANCE OF VICTORIANO. 253
fore I arrived at our halting-place — Cruz Blanca. In
the small number of houses which composed the vil
lage, it was not difficult to find where the conducta
had stopped. To my great astonishment, I learned
that Victoriano had not made his appearance. This
circumstance had alarmed every body. Some acci
dent of a serious nature must have happened to pre
vent a man, whose habitual punctuality was well
known, from rejoining the cavalcade, and every one
was lost in conjectures as to his absence, when a
stranger presented himself, and requested to speak
with the chief arriero. The new-comer was dressed
in a well-worn stable-coat, and an apron such as is
generally worn by mule conductors. He told us that
Victoriano, whose horse had come down, had been
much injured by the fall, and that they had conveyed
him to Perote, where the utmost care would be taken
of him. The unknown added that it was by his ex
press desire that he had come to supply his place till
he should be in a fit state to rejoin the convoy. The
chief arriero, who had only the number of men strictly
necessary, accepted his offer perhaps a little too incon
siderately. The new-comer was a stout fellow of
about the same age as Victoriano, but the sinister ex
pression of his countenance did not inspire me with
the same feeling of confidence as the arriero.
The next morning we resumed our march, intending
to pass the night at Hoya, a little village about five
leagues from Cruz Blanca. The journey, though slow
"as ever, seemed more fatiguing, as Victoriano was not
there to enliven it with his stories. Every thing seem
ed to go wrong after his departure. On arriving at
Barranca Honda, about a league from where we had
started in the morning, a mule cast its shoe, then a

254 MY SUSPICIONS ABOUT THE UNKNOWN,
second, and afterward a third. Very long halts were
necessary for re-shoeing the animals. Victoriano's
substitute acquitted himself as a farrier with great zeal
and intelligence, to the great delight of the arriero,
who continued, however, to discharge as many oaths
as there were saints in the calendar. For my part, I
must say that I could not look upon our new compan
ion with the same satisfaction as the muleteer.
"Does it not seem to you," said I to Don Bias,
' ' that this fedow, who shoes the mules so cleverly,
might not show an equal address in unshoeing them ?"
The captain looked on my suspicions as ridiculous.
"I am perfectly disinterested in the matter," I replied,
"for, fortunately, none of the precious boxes belong to
me ; but I can't help regretting the absence of Victo
riano." The convoy put itself again in motion. Stid, al
though it wras necessary that the pace should be quick
ened, the mules appeared to have lost ad their former
energy, as if some enervating drug had been mixed
with their food. Just when we were passing through
Las Vigas, the arriero held a sort of conference with
the chief of the escort. The former advised that we
should pass the night in the vidage ; Don Bias, how
ever, thought it would be better to push on to Hoya,
adeging that a delay in a convoy so soon expected in
Vera Cruz, especially when the stages in advance were
wed known, would tend to spread a prejudicial unea
siness. Unluckily for the muleteer, this advice pre-
vaded, and we resolved to push on to Hoya.
There is, perhaps, no part of Mexico in which the
difference between the temperature of the plains and
that of the more elevated regions is more keenly felt
than in the approaches to the Vigas. A few seconds

ANXIETY OF THE ARRIERO. 255
before reaching the vidage, you were in an instant
transported into the vegetation peculiar to cold cli
mates. There the warm breeze and blue heavens
were gone, and in 'their stead a cold north wind blew
sharply through the icy vapor which floated around
us. Our eyes met only a dud sky, and an arid soil
torn up and thickly covered with volcanic boulders.
The fog, which at first crept along the surface of the
ground, and rolled about in volumes like dust under
the feet of our horses, was not long in mounting aloft,
and hiding from our view the tops of the tall pines.
We could scarcely distinguish one another in the dense
mist which the icy wind was driving right in our faces.
Deep ravines ran parallel with the road, which was of
volcanic formation, and it was a difficult matter to pre
vent the mules from straggling in a path so hard to
follow. I could not help admiring the calmness of
Don Bias, the great importance of whose trust abso
lutely frightened me. As for the arriero, he was in
great perplexity, and he galloped incessantly up and
down the whole length of the convoy, the sparks fly
ing from his mule's feet at every stroke. The poor
man inspired me with a lively interest, for every thing
he had in life was at stake ; an immense responsibili
ty rested upon him, and he counted and recounted his
mules every minute with an anxiety painful to behold.
When night had fully come on, Don Bias divided his
escort into two bodies. With one he rode at the head
of the convoy, and left the other under the charge of
Juanito, his ex-asistente. The march was gloomy
and silent, the chief noise heard being the tinkle of
the bell of the leading mule, the songs of the soldiers,
and the clattering of the mules' feet on the stony road.
Riding alone on the flank of the convoy, I passed

256 SOME TREACHERY AT WORK.
through my mind the various incidents of the morn
ing ; the disappearance of our favorite, the unshoeing
of the mules, and the dull dstlessness with which they
now marched, appeared to me, in the midst of the fog
which enveloped us, alarming in the highest degree.
At the very moment I was asking myself if some
treachery was not at work around us, I was joined by
my valet Cecilio.
" Senor," said Cecdio, in a low voice, "if you will
believe me, we ought not to stay here a moment lon
ger. Something strange is going to happen."
"And where are we to go," said I, "when we can
not see two paces before us among these rocks and
ravines ? But what is the matter ?"
" The matter is, senor, that Victoriano has just
slipped in among us, and perhaps I am the only one
that has remarked his presence ; but his coming bodes
no good. The story of his accident appears to be only
a falsehood." "Are you sure of it?"
" Yes, quite ; but that is not ad. About a quarter
of an hour ago, I was in the rear, as I have been gen
erally ad the march, owing to this confounded beast
of mine, when two mounted cavaliers passed without
seeing me, as I was concealed behind a mass of rock.
One of them bestrode a magnificent black horse, and
was otherwise too well equipped for a peaceable trav
eler." "A magnificent black horse?" I said, interrupting
him, thinking of the ranchero in Mexico who had look
ed so coolly on the departure of the convoy.
" The other," continued Cecilio, "rode a mule, and
had the costume of a muleteer ; and, if I rightly un
derstood what they said, .Victoriano must be an ac
complice."

THE PLOT THICKENS APACE. 257
" And what became of the horsemen ?"
" I have no doubt that, under cover of the darkness,
they mingled with the escort. It is easy to guess
why ; and, probably, they are not alone, for these ra
vines could conceal an entire euadrilla (band). If
your lordship will be guided by me, we shad let the
convoy go on without us."
" Not at ad," I answered ; " I must go and tell the
captain." "And who told you, senor, that the captain is not
also an accomplice ?"
I made no answer. It was not the time for discus
sion, but for acting. Without considering whether
Cecdio's suspicions of Don Bias were well or ill found
ed, I spurred my horse to warn at- least the chief ar
riero. With some trouble I made up to the rear guard,
passed it and some of the mules, the others stid form
ing a long fine in front. In the midst of the fog I
was guided by the clank of their hoofs on the rocky
ground. At last I distinguished the tinkling of the
leading mule a few hundred yards in advance. At the
same moment I fancied I recognized in the cavalier by
my side the sinister countenance of Victoriano's sub
stitute. Some seconds after, the voice of a muleteer
rose in the darkness.
" What's the meaning of this ?" cried he. " Hal
loo ! Victoriano, is that you ? It is, by heavens ! and
by what chance ?"
There was no reply, and the question was not re
peated. I shuddered. I thought I heard a stifled
cry, fodowed by a heavy fad. I Hstened again at
tentively, but the only sounds were the whistling of
the wind, and the echo of the mules' feet upon the
stony road. A few seconds after my horse shied vio-

258 ENCOUNTER WITH ROBBERS.
lently, as if he had distinguished in the darkness some
thing that had alarmed him. Desirous of clearing up
the terrible doubts that harassed my mind, I took out
my tinder and steel as if to light a cigar, and to warm
me by the exercise it afforded. I fancied for a mo
ment that I was the sport of a dream. By the mo
mentary light it sent forth, I thought I saw some
strange figures marching along with the soldiers of
our escort and the muleteers. Silent phantoms seem
ed to have glided mysteriously out of the darkness,
and were traveling along with us, some clad in lancers'
uniform, others wearing the striped frocks of the mule
teers. All at once the bed of the leading mule ceased
to sound ; in a few seconds it recommenced, but in
quite a different direction, and similar sounds issued
from the ravines on the left of the road. I had seen
enough — nay, too much ; treachery surrounded us on
every side. But what could one do in the midst of a
thick fog, and on a road bordered by ravines ? How
could one distinguish friends from foes in the deep
gloom ? Astonished and disconcerted, I stopped my
horse ; then, at the risk of breaking my neck in the
darkness, I gadoped to the front of the convoy ; it was
now too late. A cord whistled over my head and en
circled me ; my horse made a bound forward ; but,
instead of being dragged from my saddle, and thrown
under the animal's feet as I expected, I felt myself
bound to my horse with a terrible tightness. The
noose intended for me alone had also enlaced him. My
right arm was so tightly bound to my body that I could
not disengage myself sufficiently to adow me to draw
my knife from my boot to cut the lasso. I dug my
spurs into my horse's flanks. The noble animal neigh
ed, and tore forward with irresistible vigor. I felt the

ENCOUNTER WITH ROBBERS. 259
lasso tighten tdl it almost cut me, then suddenly slack.
A snap of broken girths, an imprecation of rage, and
ad at once I found myself free, almost before I could
fully realize the danger I had escaped.' A vigorous
bound of my horse almost unseated me. I kept my
saddle, however, and galloped furiously on. Some
shots were heard, and a bad whistled close to my ears ;
at the same moment, cries of alarm arose in the dark
ness. The repercussion of the firing was fearful, and
the confusion indescribable. The mules, deceived by
the bells which rang in various directions, ran against
each other, and jostled one another in the darkness.
The flashes of the fire-arms tore through the fog, and
the reports died away among the rocks. By the glare
of the musketry you could see the lancers, in their red
uniforms, huddled together in confusion, and firing
away at random in the thick darkness ; the balls went
whistling through the air, and the cries of despair of
the muleteer were heard distinctly above the din of the
tumult. My frightened horse had carried me far frqm the
scene of combat. I pulled him in immediately and
returned. When I rejoined the convoy the contest
was over and the bandits had disappeared. Don
Bias, who had kept himself very cool during the whole
affair, grasped me sdently by the hand. I had no
time to question him, for a man threw himself between
us, a torch in his hand, imploring the captain's assist
ance. By its light I recognized the discomposed fea
tures of the poor muleteer. Some of the soldiers, dis
mounting, cut branches off the fir-trees and lighted
them. We could then survey the sad spectacle which
met our eyes. The mozos, among whom Victoriano's
substitute was no longer to be seen, watched the poor

260 THE CHIEF MULETEER'S DESPAIR.
animals that were standing in groups round the lead
ing mule, whose bed had disappeared. Several mules
were bleeding from large wounds : two soldiers, very
likely hit by the bads of their comrades, were bandag
ing their legs with their pocket-handkerchiefs. In a
shadow ravine, which the torches reddened with a mel
ancholy glow, a poor muleteer lay writhing in the
death agony. This was the man who had recognized
Victoriano ; he had expiated the fault of having seen
too wed. The arriero, torch in hand, walked from one
mule to another, tearing his hair the while, and wiping
off the sweat, which, in spite of the coldness of the
night, dropped profusely from his face. " I am lost —
ruined!" cried the poor devd, who appeared scarcely
to have sufficient courage to ascertain his precise loss'
with exactness. He commenced, however. Don Bias,
who seemed very pale even by the reddish glare of
the torches, sat motionless in his saddle. I scrutin
ized his features as I thought over Cecilio's words,
but nothing in his countenance betrayed the painful
emotion of a man who, by negligence or misfortune,
had failed in the execution of his duty,
"Don't you think," said I to him, "that it would
be no bad thing to pursue the robbers who have car
ried off their booty, and who are every moment increas
ing their distance from us ?"
Don Bias seemed to wake out of his reverie.
"Doubtless," he cried, roughly; "but who told
you that they have carried off any thing ?"
"Heaven help this poor man!" said I, pointing to
the muleteer, who uttered a doleful cry.
" May God pity me !" cried he, "for I shall never
survive it. Five, Senor Captain ! five are gone ! " he
continued, in a choking voice. "I have lost in one

WE SET OUT IN PURSUIT. 261
•night the fruit of twenty years' toil! Ah! Senor
Don Bias, by the life of your mother, try to recover
them for me ; the half shall be yours. Ah ! why did
you advise me to proceed to-night ? Why did I listen
to you ?"
And the poor muleteer, dashing his torch upon the
road, rolled in the dust.
The captain being thus forced to make some repara
tion for the misfortune which he had either ignorantly
or designedly caused, picked out a dozen of his best-
mounted horsemen, ordered them to cut some pine
branches to serve for torches, and to commence the
pursuit without delay. I did not anticipate any very
successful issue to the expedition, although I had been
the first to advise him to it. Persuaded, however, that,
though there was little chance of success, there was
little risk to be run ; desirous, besides, to witness the
wonderful sagacity of the Mexicans in following even
the faintest traces, I insisted upon accompanying Don
Bias and his band. The captain agreed without much
difficulty, and we set out immediately for Hoya.

CHAPTER IV.
Don Tomas Verduzco is shot by Juanito. — Death of Captain
Don Bias.
It was a difficult enterprise on which we had enter
ed. Darkness masked the march of the robbers, whose
trad it would be almost impossible to follow unless
during daylight, as it led over a volcanic soil. We
were certain that the stolen mules had not been taken
in the direction of Perote. From the place where we
now were, the lights in the vdlage of Hoya were easily

262 NIGHT ON THE UPLANDS OF THE VIGAS.
discernible even through the dense fog which stretch
ed all round us. The news of our disaster could not
be long in reaching that place, and the presumption
was that the robbers were not to be sought for in that
direction. The ground on the left side of the road was
impracticable in the darkness, from the large number
of sloughs and ravines which seamed its surface. There
was no doubt but that the bandits had gained the
woody heights on the right which overhung the road,
and that the pursuit must be begun in that quarter.
A soldier remarked that the light of our torches would
betray our presence. We were ignorant of the num
ber of mir enemies, who could very easily see us from
the lights we carried, and prudence prompted us to
hide our motions in darkness. By the captain's order
we extinguished the flambeaux, not, however, without
casting a glance over the ground we were going to
traverse. A steep path led to the crest of a ridge that
overhung the road. Three of us, of whom I was one,
remained to point out this particular spot. The rest
were sent to explore the different paths which were to
be met with more in advance. We waited in ad stdl-
ness the return of the exploring party. Thus passed
some minutes. The winds, sighing through the pines
which formed a gloomy arch above the hollow road at
whose mouth we were stationed, shook upon our heads
the condensed mists which fell drop by drop from their
sloping branches. At the end of half an hour the
horsemen returned. They had seen nothing, but they
were certain that no other path than the one on which
we were posted led to the high road. If we followed
it, we would be sure of hitting the right trail. The
soldiers, animated by the hope of a rich reward, were
as desirous to begin the pursuit as a pack of dogs to

THE ROBBERS' TRACES ARE FOUND. 263
hunt a stag. The captain alone seemed to have no
heart for the work, and the orders he gave betrayed a
considerable amount of indecision. We began our
march, however. Unfortunately, the darkness of the
night made our progress very slow. At times, and
during a short halt, one of the horsemen alighted and
applied his ear to the ground, but not a sound was
heard but the sighing of the wind. The rocky ground,
carefully examined by the light of a cigar, seemed in
capable of bearing even the slightest impress. Guided,
however, by an inexplicable instinct, the soldiers did
not appear to doubt but that the robbers had passed
that way. The gravel soon ceased to crunch beneath
our tread ; we were now on softer ground. We had
at last some chance of discovering the trace of the men
or animals which had fodowed that road. Half of us
alighted, and by the light of our cigars, or sparks from
flint and steel, began examining with the utmost mi
nuteness every' bit of moss or bare earth on the path.
Tracks crossed one another in every direction ; and at
the end of a few minutes, a soldier uttered a cry of
joy, and pointed out to us the distinct impress of the
two feet of a mule. One of the marks showed that
the animal had been newly shod, from the deeper dent
made in the soft ground. This was, assuredly, the
traces of one of the mules of the convoy that we had
been forced to shoe that very morning. At this time
we were marching only at random, and our delight at
this discovery was intense. The trail was followed
tid it conducted us to a vast open clearing, a sort of
square, from which several paths struck off similar to
the one we had fodowed. There we were completely
at fault.
A considerable time had now elapsed since we be-

264 WE RECOVER ONE OF OUR STOLEN MULES.
gan our search. The captain, in order to husband our
horses' strength in case a new and longer pursuit would
be required, ordered a halt. The different paths, which
crossed one another in such confusion, could not, he
said, be properly examined unless by daylight. The
men began to murmur at this unexpected check ; but
obedience was necessary, and they all alighted. Some
large fires were kindled, more for warmth against the
freezing cold of the night, and to guard against a sud
den surprise, than for the light they afforded. As I
took no great interest in the search, I joyfully wel
comed the opportunity I had of warming myself at a
good fire, and of taking some repose, of which I stood
in great need.
After a few minutes' talk, all was silent. The clear
ing in which we were bivouacked was illuminated
throughout its whole extent by the light of our fires.
Nothing was heard but the rapid and measured step
of the two sentinels we had posted. Several hours
rolled away ; our fires were just dying out, and day
could not be far off, when a cracking of broken branch
es was heard at some distance. One of our sentinels,
his carbine in one hand and a torch in the other, ad
vanced to the place whence the noise proceeded, and
soon reappeared leading a mule, which, from its color,
and the pack-saddle on his back, was easily recognized
as one of those that had been stolen from the convoy.
His broken bridle showed that, after having been de
prived of his precious burden, they had tied him up in
a thicket to prevent our finding him, and that the poor
beast had only been able to gain our encampment by
breaking his tether. Every body was soon on foot.
The woods, perviated every where with paths, unhap
pily afforded us no new traces, and we much feared

SUSPICIOUS CONDUCT OF DON BLAS. 265
that the robbers had divided their plunder, and gone
off in a different direction. This thought, which dis
couraged us so much, produced quite a different effect
upon the captain. Up to this time Don Bias had
seemed to take no interest in the pursuit, but now he
flew into a violent passion, and uttered the most vio
lent menaces against the bandits, whose daring had
caused us to lose so much.
" Ah !" cried he, " if chance but throws any of them
into my hands, I shall shoot them without benefit of
clergy." Speaking thus, Don Bias walked backward and for
ward, hitting the ferns which branched out above us
with his sabre.
" Whom wid you shoot ?" I asked.
"Whom?" replied the captain; "why, the first
man that happens to fall into my hands."
" That wid be a right which it may be difficult to
exercise, for robbers on the high road have generady
long arms."
" That's my concern," answered Don Bias, with a
strange smile ; "I wdl find the means to have the law
on my side."
The captain immediately gave the word to mount.
The soldiers, delighted at the prospect of regaining
their lost time, welcomed the order with acclamation.
I must confess that I could not account for this sud
den change in the conduct of Don Bias. Why so
much zeal after so much coldness ? I pleased myself
by thinking that hitherto it had been only in appear
ance, and that the captain had shown so much apathy
at first for the sake of propriety, that it might not be
thought he was actuated by too lively a desire to gain
the reward promised by the arriero.
M

266 WE SEPARATE INTO TWO BANDS.
One of the three paths which led out of the clearing
was. so narrow, and so little frequented, judging by the
appearance of the ground, that, according to ad ap
pearance, it could not lead to any inhabited place.
The other two were deeply marked with the footprints
of men and animals. They would very likely lead to
some hacienda, or rancho at least. According to the
conjectures of the soldiers, the least trodden of the
three paths was that which most probably the robbers
had taken. Opinion being divided on that point, the
captain ordered us to separate into two parties, and
each, taking a particular path, to explore it to the ut
most, and two hours after nightfall to rejoin one an
other in the clearing. Don Bias placed himself at the
head of one of these detachments, the other was under
the command of Juanito. As for myself, I fodowed
Don Bias, although he did every thing he could to
dissuade me from doing so, but I had an instinctive
notion that he would not be the man to prefer the
most dangerous road. The path we had taken led us
toward a wide plain. We soon arrived at an open
square in the wood whence several roads diverged.
This was a new embarrassment. Our band, however,
proceeded in pairs to explore each of these ramifica
tions. "If this continue," I said to Don Bias, "we shall
soon be completely separated from one another, and
be hable to be pursued in our turn by those whom we
are pursuing."
Still Don Bias did not think that any danger was
to be apprehended by this division of our forces. He
forthwith proceeded to reconnoitre one of these roads,
and I accompanied him. However, when we had pro
ceeded some distance from our companions, his ardor

THE CAPTAIN SLACKENS HIS PACE- 267
seemed suddenly to cool. He stopped his horse, which
was before mine, and proceeded to expatiate upon the
beauty of the landscape with the cool indifference of a
dissatisfied tourist. The sun had dissipated the mist
which had till now enwrapped us. The sky was clear
and without a cloud, and a pleasant warmth soon made
us forget the sharp and piercing cold of the preceding
night. A slight perfume of guava, that the wind waft
ed along at intervals, was now and then mixed with
the sharp and pungent odor of the pines. This was
like a harbinger of the beautiful azure sky of the hot
regions, and the magnificence of their luxuriant vege
tation. We were now separated from the first of our
party by several miles.
" I should like to know," said Don Bias to me, after
a short silence, "how far the audacity of these brig
ands would go."
" That is very clear, it seems to me," I replied,
"and, since yesterday evening, facts show very strong
ly how much they are capable of doing."
We had not proceeded far tdl we met with evidence
which proved to us that we were now on the trail of
the robbers. Don Bias, seeing some pieces of wood
lying on the ground, alighted and picked them up. It
was the remains of one of the little boxes in which the
sacks of piastres had been packed. He then begged
me, in spite of my entreaties, to remain where I was ;
and, wheeling his horse about, set off at fud speed. A
turn in the road soon hid him from my view, and I re
mained alone, without being able to explain the reason
of his singular conduct. A painful suspicion, which
I had been trying to drive from my mind for some
time, now recurred to me with redoubled force. Had
Don Bias really any connivance with those robbers,

268 THE CAPTAIN SHOT IN THE BREAST.
whose presence he wished to seek without a witness ?
Suddenly a distant shot was heard, which roused me
from my reflections. I thought I heard likewise a fee
ble cry of alarm and distress. I listened, but every
thing was calm and silent round me. Prudence urged
me to retrace my steps. The captain might be kided ;
if stid alive, dangerously wounded. In these two
cases I could be of no assistance ; but I resolved to
return to procure help. Having come to the place
where Don Bias and I had separated from our com
panions some time before, I discharged my two pistols
in succession. I soon had the satisfaction of being
rejoined by two of our men, whom I informed in a few
words of what had passed.
"The brigands !" cried Juanito ; "they are capable
of killing my captain for his gold epaulets ;" and, to
prevent a proceeding so prejudicial to his interests,
the sergeant set off at a gadop. The lancers imitated
his example, and I followed them, impatient to rejoin
Don Bias, but without much hope that Juanito would
be deceived. My fears were soon changed to a pain
ful certainty. The captain, unhorsed by the shot I
had heard, lay upon the grass, his breast pierced by a
ball, but still alive, in spite of the dangerous nature
of his wound, and the blood that was flowing from it
in abundance. We all hastened to assist him. One
of the soldiers stanched the blood, and bound it up
very dexterously with our handkerchiefs. While one
of the escort went in pursuit of Don Bias's horse,
which had escaped, and the captain, with his back to
the trunk of a tree, was slowly reviving, I began to
examine the ground on all sides. The unhappy man
had evidently surprised the bandits at the very mo
ment they were dividing their booty, for broken boxes

DON TOMAS VERDUZCO REAPPEARS. 269
and bags turned outside in strewed the ground in ad
directions. Refreshed by a sip of brandy that I caused
him to swadow, Don Bias declared that he had seen
nobody, and that he had but newly arrived at the
place when he was stretched on the earth by a mus
ket-shot. He then added that he knew the hand that
had fired the piece. This was too singular a contra
diction to provoke a reply. Whether he had said too
much, and, being fatigued, wished to say no more, I
know not, but he spoke not another word. In the
mean time his horse had been caught, and the wound
ed man affirmed that he thought himself sufficiently
recovered to be able to reach the convoy. Still, his
strength not being equal to his inclination, it was nec
essary to lift him on horseback. A soldier mounted
behind to support him and take the reins, and we set
out on the road to Hoya.
We arrived there about midday. A new incident
here awaited us. Scarcely had Don Bias been laid on
one of the rough beds, hastily knocked up for him in
a cabin in the vidage, when a detachment of the escort
which had been scouring the country round all the
morning brought in a prisoner with his hands tied be
hind his back. His face was blackened, and half con
cealed by a handkerchief. This disguise was most
suspicious, as it is the one usually adopted by Mexi
can highwaymen. Under this hideous mask I fancied
I discerned — a remarkable circumstance — the features
of a man who had played a most prominent part in
one of the most melancholy episodes of my wander
ings, Don Tomas Verduzco. Surrounded by a crowd,
he did not discern me. He entreated to be led to the
captain ; and his voice, though altered by his agita
tion, was stdl that of the bravo. I went before the

270 DON BLAS AND THE BRAVO.
men who were conducting him, and entered first into
the hut where Don Bias lay. As soon as he saw the
person they had brought him, his pale face became
livid, and hatred gleamed in his eyes ; he, however,
said nothing. The prisoner stood unmoved, and an
air of impudent assurance had replaced the expression
of stupefaction that was visible a moment before in
his countenance.
" What ! Senor Don Bias !" cried he ; " can I be-
deve my eyes ? Are you dangerously wounded ? The
conducta, it seems, has been pillaged in part, and I am
accused of having assisted in that piece of villainy.
Good God ! it seems as if it were only a dream."
"I fear that it is something worse than a dream,"
replied the captain, coldly.
"What do you mean by that coldness?" said the
bravo, for it was really he. " Your lordship wid, per
haps, be less pleased at seeing me than I am in meet
ing you."
" On the contrary," answered Don Bias, in a voice
to which excitement had restored all its former firm
ness, " I doubt if you are as glad to see me as I am
to have you in my power."
"I do not understand you, Senor Captain, "returned
the bravo, impudently.
"You will understand me," said the captain. "If
I am pleased at meeting you again, it is only that I
may treat you as a highwayman, as a murderer, by
shooting you at once, without benefit of clergy."
The look of the captain, which expressed an impla
cable hatred, added strength to his words ; and the
bravo, the predominant feature of whose character was
evidently not courage, seemed almost to quail under
this terrible menace, and he lost countenance for a mo^

WE SET OUT FOR JALAPA. 271
ment. Seeing, however, that his wound gave Don
Bias more assurance, he made a strong effort to master
himself, and replied, in quite a firm tone of voice,
" Shoot me ! That's rather a good joke ; but I
have more protectors than you think ; and, if it is nec
essary, I will say— Senor Captain, I wdl say — "
It was now Don Bias's turn to tremble. The cap
tain ordered the bravo to be silent by an imperious
gesture ; and, signing to Juanito to leave the room,
remained alone with the assassin. I am wholly igno
rant of what passed between these two worthies, and
could only guess what cause had so suddenly changed
the opinion of Don Bias with regard to Verduzco. I
only know that, after an hour's conversation, the bra
vo quitted the captain's chamber under the escort of
Juanito, who appeared from that moment to treat the
prisoner with singular consideration.
The captain's wound did not, however, look so
alarming as it did, and a considerable difference could
even be observed upon his spirits. After passing two
miserable days in the cabin at Hoya, I heard without
much surprise that Don Bias thought himself suffi
ciently recovered to be able to accompany us to Jalapa
in a litter, which the chief muleteer had constructed
for the purpose. The wounded officer would probably
find in that town better medical advice than he could
get in Hoya. He could also keep his prisoner in his
own hands and under his own guidance.
We had more than fifteen mdes to go to reach Ja
lapa, and, although it was almost two hours after mid
day before we set out, it was possible to reach that
town if we traveled at a quickened pace. This time,
a reconnoitring party had been sent on in advance,
and every precaution taken to guard against a new

272 JUANITO LONGS FOR THE BRAVO 'S BOOTS.
surprise. Juanito carried the prisoner behind him.
The sergeant and his prisoner chatted as gayly as two
friends who were going to the same fete, sharing the
same horse. The convoy advanced at a rapid pace.
We had now marched two leagues, and had reached
San Miguel el Soldado. I then could not help ob
serving that Juanito's horse, probably from its double
burden, had lagged behind, and was now far in the
rear. Restrained by curiosity from leaving the cap
tive out of sight, I gradually checked the impetuosity
of my horse in such a way as to fodow Juanito and
the bandit at a short distance.
" Caspita!" cried the sergeant, after a long silence,
"you have on a capital pair of boots, Senor Don To
mas." I must remind the reader that Juanito had only a
bottine and a shoe.
"lam glad my boots please you," Verduzco rephed,
" and I would place them at your disposal, but you
see I am not quite done with them yet."
" You are very kind, Senor Don Tomas," replied
the sergeant, with equal courtesy, " but I mean that I
would only borrow them from you when they are of
no more use to you. That is always the way I do
with my friends, and you are decidedly one. I shall
wait, then."
The two horsemen then spoke in a low tone, and I
could only catch snatches of their conversation. I
was soon drawn away from the distraction into which
I had been betrayed by the beauty of the landscape.
We were just over San Miguel. From this elevated
point the eye wandered over a charming vadey, encir
cled by a belt of foggy mountains. The Naocampa-
tepetl,* an extinct volcano, which has the appearance
* In the Indian tongue, the square mountain.

BEAUTY OF JALAPA. 273
of a square block of stone, is the highest eminence in
this range. At the foot of the peak of Macudtepetl,
upon a beautiful carpet of verdure which covers the
valley, in the midst of orange-trees in full blossom, of
lofty palm-trees, and bananas loaded with fruit, stands
the town of Jalapa, set as in a garland of flowers.
Placed between the icy fog of the mountains which sur
round it and the hot atmosphere of the sea-coast, Ja
lapa is only visited by breezes laden with perfumes.
The thick vapors, which hang hke a curtain over the
plain, lend to it a delicious freshness. Viewed from
the top of the hill, where nothing was near but gloomy
pines and a stunted vegetation, similar to that of the
north, the vadey which now lay at my feet seemed
more enchanting from the contrast which it afforded.
Day at last came to a close. Macudtepetl, and the
sides of the extinct volcano, began to lose their shades
of dusky violet, and already the peak of Orizaba* ap
peared at a distance like a brilliant star. At the bot
tom of the picture under my eye ran an almost imper
ceptible white line, which terminated to the right and
left in the horizon. This line was the ocean, and it
was not without a lively emotion that I contemplated
that immense mass of water which laves the shores of
France. Whde I was absorbed in the contemplation of this
enchanting landscape, the convoy had advanced con
siderably beyond me. I then fancied that the belt
which bound the body of the bravo and the soldier
together was not so tight as it used to be. This cir
cumstance, remarked also by others, led me to believe
that Juanito was conniving at a plan of escape on the
part of the prisoner. I asked myself, though it was a
* Called by the Indians Citlaltepetl (star mountain).
M 2

274 THE SERGEANT SHOOTS THE BRAVO.
business repugnant to my feelings, if I ought not to
apprise the captain of the matter. However, I thought
that my presence would be a hinderance to Verduzco's
attempt to escape, and so preferred remaining where I
was. Suddenly the belt, cut by the bravo's knife, di
vided into two, and the bandit, slipping from the horse's
back to the ground, darted off at a run. The lancer
was up with him at a single bound of his horse. Ju
anito applied the muzzle of his carbine to the bravo's
head, drew the trigger, and blew out his brains before
I could even utter a cry.
"On my word," said Juanito, replacing the carbine
in its case, still smoking, "he can't complain that I
have not had a regard for his feelings, for I could have
got possession of his boots two hours sooner."
Set completely at ease on this delicate point, the
sergeant dismounted, and, snatching the objects of his
desire, pulled them off the corpse and put them on.
" I knew quite wed," added he, " that I would com
plete my equipment at last."
"My dear Juanito," said I to him, "you are a faith
ful servant to the captain, although I always suspect
ed the contrary ; but there is a mystery wrapped up
in this which I do not comprehend, and if you unrid
dle it for me I will give you a piastre."
"With much pleasure," said Juanito, taking the
money ; " I wish I could find every day a confessor
equal in generosity to your lordship."
The sergeant remounted, and, while walking our
horses together, he said,
" What you saw me do was by an order of the cap
tain. To shoot this wicked knave would have been,
in the eyes of the law, a crime that would have cost
us dear ; to place him in the hands of the judges would

JUANITO CLEARS UP THE MYSTERY. 275
have offered him a favorable chance of getting off alto
gether ; to kid him, on the contrary, when he was try
ing to escape, was quite lawful. The attempt at flight,
at which I seemed to connive, was only a plan con
certed between the captain and me, and the prisoner
fed into the snare."
"But why has your captain acted in such a way
to a man with whom he had formerly such intimate
relations ?"
"Ah! that's quite another thing!" replied Juanito.
"Before sending Verduzco to a better world, my cap
tain charged me to confess my prisoner. Here is what
he told me, and which I wid tell only to you, or to
those who wid give me a piastre for the information.
Counting upon the influence which he had in high
places,Verduzco engaged to procure for the captain an
acting order as commander of the first convoy which
left Mexico, the agreement being that he was to allow
the conducta to be pidaged on its march, and that aft
erward the proceeds should be shared between them.
Don Bias accepted these conditions ; but I must say
in his favor that he seemed to have repented of the bar
gain he had made with the bandit. Now, you know
what happened to the convoy ; but the best of the joke
is, that the successful coup was made by another band
than that of Verduzco's, who had not reckoned on any
thing of the kind. While the bravo was waiting for
the conducta beyond Hoya, another body of robbers,
better informed, met it before it reached that place.
It was by these wretches that the captain was wound
ed. He fancied that Verduzco had betrayed him, and
it was on that account that I received the order to
seize the first opportunity that offered to blow the ruf
fian's brains out."

276 LAST SCENE OF ALL.
We spurred our horses to rejoin the convoy. As
soon as Juanito perceived the captain's litter, he set
his horse to a gadop, and rode alongside for a time.
Some minutes passed, during which, bending to the
patient's ear, he whispered to him the execution of his
orders. Suddenly he ordered the convoy to stop. Ad
pressed round the litter, and J gadoped up to ascertain
the cause of the halt. A painful feehng, produced by
the sergeant's report, had brought on bleeding inter-
nady, and when I came up he was already in the last
agonies. The death of Don Bias severed the last tie that
bound me to the sdver convoy. I resolved to let it
proceed without me. The scenes I had witnessed had
left a painful feehng on my mind, and I was no longer
able to support the company of men whose brutal pas
sions were not satisfied tid a crime had been commit
ted. I then halted, and soon saw the cavalcade dis
appear in the mist, conveying a fitter which contained
only a corpse, the escort around it holding their lances
reversed as a sign of mourning. Night approached. I
set out, and reached Jalapa after a slow march, where
my sombre and melancholy thoughts were soon re
placed by more cheerful feelings.

<&ht Sororl)O0.

CHAPTER I.
Jalapa.
If there is any place in Mexico where the sunshines
Upon a richer vegetation than that in the valley of Ja
lapa, there is certainly no part of the country that en
joys, a moister atmosphere. A dense, compact mass
of light gray vapors always stretches from the sum
mit of the Cofre de Perote to the very verge of the
horizon. From this dark canopy, which is always
charged with moisture, a fine drizzling rain falls, cloud
lets of mist rod along the roofs of the houses, the
streets are deserted, and Jalapa suffers dreadfully dur
ing the greater part of the year for the magnificence
of its perpetual verdure ; but the sun has no sooner
torn aside this cloudy ved, and the deep blue of the
heavens and that of the hills has become blended into
one, than Jalapa becomes the enchanting town which
at a distance it promises to be. The steep streets, which
have now put on a very lively appearance, present at
every step some charm which is ever varying. The
eye is arrested sometimes by the blue and red painted
houses which peep out from clumps of guava-trees, of
hquidambars and palms — sometimes by the mount
ains which overhang the town — by the rocks which
are completely hidden by a drapery of convolvuh — by
the thousand streams which burst from their sides —

278 THE FAIR DAMES OF JALAPA.
and by the paths which are soon lost to view between
a double hedge of daturas, honey-suckles, and jasmines.
When evening has come a shade falls upon the land
scape, but the ved is so transparent that it softens its
contour without effacing it. Even the night at Jalapa
is quite as beautiful as the day. It is then that life
begins to stir in the town. The ground-floor is, in ad
houses in hot countries, the place of rendezvous for the
family and friends. It is in the evening at Jalapa, and
at several other towns in Mexico, that the stranger can
obtain the best insight into the domestic life and man
ners of the inhabitants. Every open window then
sends forth a welcome ray of light into the dark and
sdent street, and the traveler can not but hear the joy
ous merriment that is going on within. In the warm
nights of this beautiful climate the stranger can thus
share in these fetes every evening ; he can see the Ja-
lapenas* display their charming vivacity without affec
tation, from the first moment that the fete commences
tid the flowers in their head-dresses wither, the harp
ceases to be heard, and the windows are closed behind
their iron bars.
It is always with regret that you leave this charm
ing, warm vadey, whether you are going to Mexico
through the icy fogs of the frigid zone, or to Vera
Cruz through the stifling and unbearable heat of the
country between Jalapa and that city. I had defer
red my departure from day to day, and two weeks had
almost roded away like a dream since that evening
when, permitting the silver convoy to go on in advance
after the death of Don Bias, I had entered Jalapa alone.
* The women of Jalapa are renowned throughout the whole repub
lic for their beauty and grace, and their taste in fetes, music, and flow
ers is unrivaled.

SANTA ANNA'S COUNTRY-SEAT. 279
My pecuniary resources were almost exhausted, and I
was obliged to set out, taking with me my servant
Cecilio and another traveling companion, a young span
iel bitch, answering to the name of Love, an appella
tion which Cecilio had transferred into a Spanish name
with quite a different signification, Lova (she wolf).
This dog followed me in ad my wanderings ; and my
horse Storm, who had contracted an affection for her,
never gadoped with greater animation than when he
felt her bounding between his legs or fawning upon
his chest.
We soon left behind us the fertile hids of Jalapa,
its orange groves and daturas, its plains dotted with
bananas and guava-trees, and arrived at Lencero.
This name was given to the place by one of Cortez's
soldiers who had set up a venta there. In that quar
ter are still to be found some of these huts called ja-
cales* Lencero offers likewise an additional interest
to the curious traveler. Near the hamlet, upon the
top of a hill, from wrhich, in a clear day, the serrated
tops of the Cordidera and a distant view of the ocean
can be easily obtained, rises a little house with red
stained walls, ornamented with a modest veranda, and
surmounted by a mirador (belvedere) of glass. This
agreeable retreat is the country house of General Santa
Anna. At some distance from Lencero our road passed
through the gorges of Cerro-Gordo, and a dud roar,
like the sea-waves breaking on a rocky beach, warned
us of our approach to the River Antigua. Seven arch
es, thrown with great boldness over a deep ravine, at
the bottom of which the river flows ; the blasted rocks
* These huts are constructed of bamboos, wattled so as to admit both
air and light freely.

280 STORM AND LOVE. — CECILIO.
and the fided-up abysses, stid attest the ancient grand
eur of the old masters of Mexico. This bridge is now
called the Puente Nacional.*
Vera Cruz is only about forty miles from the Puente
Nacional ; but since our departure from Jalapa, the
heat had become gradually overpowering. • Storm
snuffed up with delight the burning wind which im-
browned the grass ; it reminded him of the hot breezes
of the savannas. It was the first time for five years
that he had bathed in the rays of a sun similar to that
of his distant querencia, and his joy was manifested
by his wild neighing. Love, on the contrary, her
tongue loding out, and her chest heaving, sought in
vain for some drops of dew in the midst of a vegeta
tion parched and withered by the heat of such a sun.
Fatigued by a ride which had lasted longer than I
had anticipated, I puded up for an instant. I had not
intended that my halt should be long, as I wished to
reach Vera Cruz that evening, leaving my servant to
follow next morning if his horse could not keep up
with mine ; but Fate had decreed otherwise. Cecilio,
who had lagged behind, came up at the very moment
I was going to start. The sweat was rolling in bead
ed drops from his burning brow, and his face, ordinari
ly so calm and placid, wore an appearance of extreme
uneasiness. He shuffled up alongside of me. I was
doubly surprised. It was the first time that he had
ever shown himself wanting in respect, and the effort
he now made to keep his horse close to mine was quite
without precedent.
" Senor," said Ceciho to me, " if the accounts I
have picked up on the road are to be relied on, we
* Before the independence of Mexico this bridge was called Puente
del Rey (the King's Bridge).

MASTER AND MAN. 281
have entered the district in which yedow fever is so
rife, and I must say that I have strong fears for my
personal safety, and, with your lordship's permission.
will go no farther."
"Very true," said I, "the yedow fever has haunts
peculiar to itself; it is, besides, very partial to stout,
healthy people like you ; but never mind ; you know
the road from here to Mexico, and you may consider
the horse on which you are at present mounted your
own, in lieu of the money I owe you."
Unfortunately, there was a question of wages be
tween the valet and his master which the gift of a
foundered horse, fit only for the knackers, could scarce
ly cover. The former hinted delicately at tilt diffi
culty, and wished to be paid on the spot. I had then
recourse to an argument which I thought would leave
him without any reply.
"You know why I left Jalapa so soon. Now, as
there are no commercial houses in these deserts that
wid accept a bill of mine upon Vera Cruz, you must
have patience till we get there."
Cecilio made no reply ; but his attitude proved that
he did not consider himself beaten. In fact, after rid
ing in silence for about half an hour, he came again to
the charge.
" If your lordship would take me to Europe with
you," he said, " I should not care about running my
chance of the yellow fever. He who runs no risk will
never cross the sea, as the proverb says."
I reminded Cecilio that such a voyage was very ex
pensive, and that among those foreigners who had em
igrated to Mexico there were very few midionaires, and
that the greater part generally went away as poor as
they came. " Although," I added, " such men may

282 A NEW WAY TO- PAY OLD DEBTS.
be looked upon as of consequence here, when they ar
rive in their own country they are not treated with a
like consideration."
This stopped his mouth, and he again lapsed into
his former taciturnity. We continued our journey,
but he still hung obstinately on my heels. All at
once he uttered a cry of joy.
" What is the matter ?" I asked.
" I have hit upon a capital way of settling the busi
ness." "Ah! let me hear it."
"I propose to your lordship," he replied, gravely,
" to stake your horse Storm against the wages which
are due me. As it is impossible for you to pay me
here, and you see that I am unalterably resolved to
go no farther, your lordship can not refuse to assent
to my proposition. If your lordship win, we shall be
quits, and I shall then have only the honor of having
served you for nothing. If your lordship lose, I shad
have the chestnut horse and the fa\or of God."
At first I was on the point of rejecting with indig
nation a proposition so extraordinary, but the very
idea seemed so extravagant that I laughingly accepted
it. We alighted. According to a habit common
enough in Mexico, Cecilio never stirred abroad with
out being provided with a pack of cards ; and master
and valet sat down, face to face, beneath a clump of
trees on the off side of the road. Love stretched her-
"self panting on the sand, while Storm, impatient of
delay, pawed the ground with his hoof. At sight of
the noble animal, that perhaps, in a short time, would
cease to belong to me, I could not help regretting my
rashness for an instant, but I had gone too far to re
cede. Cecdio passed me the cards.

CARDS IN THE DESERT. 283
"Your lordship wid honor me by dealing them,"
said he, with redoubled gravity.
I shuddered, and took the pack with a hand not at
ad steady. Not to prolong my absurd position, I de
termined that the game be decided in three alburs*
Five minutes would then settle the question. I put
down two cards from the pack. Cecdio chose one,. I
took the other ; then, after laying down half a dozen
cards in succession, I won the first albur. Not a frown
crossed Cecilio's face ; and, for my part, I thought that
fortune was going to befriend me for once in my life,
but I lost the second throw. The third albur re
mained, which would decide the affair.
Whde thus engaged, we had not perceived two
horsemen who were advancing toward us. I did not
see them, for my part, tid they were almost at my
side. The sound of their voices caused me to raise
my head, and at a single glance I saw in one of the
new-comers a perfect specimen of the Jarocho.f He
wore in ad its purity the peculiar costume of this class
of men, a straw liat with a broad brim turned up be
hind, a fine linen shirt with cambric frills, without any
vest above it, a pair of blue cotton velvet breeches
open at the knee, and falling in a point to the middle
of his leg. In a belt of Chinese crape of a scarlet
color hung a straight sword {machete), without guard
or sheath, the sharp and glittering blade of which
sparkled in the sun. His feet, which were bare, were
held in the wooden stirrup only by the tips of his toes.
This Jarocho, his head inclined indolently upon one
shoulder, sat his horse in the attitude peculiar to peo-
* The game called monte is thus divided.
+ The peasants of the sea-coast and the country round Vera Cruz
are so called.

284 THE TWO JAROCHOS.
pie of his caste, whose easy manner and. unconstrained
demeanor suited him to perfection. His complexion
partook equady of the darkness of the negro and the
copper color of the Indian. It was a more difficult
matter to define precisely what the other cavaher was,
who was habited in an Indian robe, blue pantaloons,
and bottines of Cordovan leather, whde a rich hat of
Jipijapa straw* sheltered him from the rays of the sun.
His face, with a slight tinge of sternness in it, might
have become equally wed a merchant, a horse-dealer,
or a highwayman, and the easy-going horse thafhe be
strode seemed to suit equady ad three suppositions.
Two gamesters at play, wherever they may be, are
always an agreeable sight for Mexicans of all classes,
and, to my great annoyance, the two horsemen stopped
short to look at us. I sat quite motionless with the
cards in my hand, and was much confused at being
surprised at an occupation so contrary to my habits.\
As no stake was visible, however, I flattered myself
that I would be able to keep up appearances so far as
to make them believe that it was only the most inno
cent pastime ; but I had to do with men who are
acute judges of human character.
" Might I ask if this beautiful horse is the stake ?"
asked the horseman in the Indian robe, saluting me,
and accompanying his request with a piercing look.
"Exactly so," I answered.
" In that case you are playing high, senor," replied
the cavalier; " and if, as I fancy, the horse is your
own, I wish Fortune may be propitious to you ; but
would you not like any body to help you with their
advice?" * These hats, which take their name from the place where they are
made, are often worth from £10 to £13 each.

i lose. 285
" I prefer finishing the game as I commenced it. I
have always remarked that I have more luck when
there is no one by."
The cavalier was too much of a gamester himself
not to see at once the fud force of my scruples, and,
turning to his companion, said, " 'Tis as well as it is.
Time presses. We must part here, although, if I have
time, you may trust on my rejoining you at the fan
dango of Manantial ; still, to speak truth, if certain in
fallible signs do not deceive me, the north wind wid
not be long in beginning to blow."
" To-morrow, then, if it is possible," answered the
Jarocho ; and the two cavaliers separated, the first fol
lowing the direct road, whde the horseman in the In
dian robe took a path on the left.
" What the devd has the north wind to do with a
fandango in a httle village?" I asked, mechanically,
of my valet.
" The cavalier in the Indian robe is perhaps afraid
of catching coldj" said Cecilio, with an affected air.
After this absurd explanation, we again began the
game which had been so unexpectedly interrupted. I
once more drew two cards out of the pack. One was
the sota de bastos (knave of clubs). Cecdio chose it.
I shuffled the cards this time with a trembling hand.
My heart beat. Perhaps I was going to lose the
daily companion of five long years. Cecilio wiped
away the sweat which ran in streams down his fore
head. Suddenly he uttered a cry which pierced to
my innermost core. I was just turning up the knave
of hearts. "You have lost, sir!" cried he.
At these words, spoken in good French, I regarded
Cecilio with mute surprise. He, meanwhile, stepping

286 cecilio wins.
up proudly to my horse, put his foot in the stirrup,
and was going to spring upon Storm's back.
" Stop ! " I cried ; " the saddle does not go with the
animal." I then ordered him to" take the saddle off,
and to put it on the back of the other horse. Cecilio
executed this order, which would probably be the last
he would ever receive from his old master, with suffi
cient readiness and good wdl. This done, he mount
ed that horse which was no longer mine. I cursed my
fody, but it was too late. A feeling of pride, however,
kept me from showing the remorse I felt ; and, to hide
my chagrin, I asked Cecilio how he had managed to
pick up so much French without my knowledge.
" I have not been behind the chair of your lord
ship," he replied, " especially when you dined with
your countrymen, without acquiring some of the lan
guage ; and as for making you acquainted with that
fact, I was too wide awake. Your lordship, from that
time, would have kept your secrets to yourself."
Cecilio was evidently like one of that class of valets
who figure so largely in the picaresque romances of
Spain. More than once he had reminded me of Am
brosio of Lamela in Gil Bias. His physiognomy had
not deceived me. However, in spite of the impudence
which he here manifested for the first time, he seemed,
when the parting moment came, to suffer considerably.
It was natural, in fact, to show some emotion when
he was leaving a master who had used him kindly.
Moved by this token of feeling on his part, I showed
that I was not without some affection for him.
"Cecilio, my friend," I said, "the horse- you have
won from me would have been yours before many
days had passed. Are you grieved because you have
been the means of taking him from me ?"

MY LAST FRIEND LEAVES ME. 287
Cecilio squeezed out a tear.
"The truth is," said he, "I regret seeing your beau
tiful saddle on the back of such a sorry brute, and I
am ashamed at the miserable appointments that the
horse I have won is provided with. But, if your lord
ship is in the humor, would it suit you to play for the
saddle and bridle ?"
This was too much. Overcome by this last piece
of ingratitude, " Take care," I cried, cocking a pistol,
"that I do not take back a horse which you are not
worthy to mount."
Cecilio made no other reply to this threat than by
spurring his horse and whistling on the Spanish dog,
which had looked upon this scene with a painful air
of dumb anxiety. I whistled also. Thus forced to
choose between two parties whom he had affectionate
ly loved all his life, the poor animal hesitated. He
ran up to Storm, and then came back to me with a
most pitying expression in his face. The convulsive
movements of his body betrayed his anguish, and
showed the struggle that was going on within. His
limbs shook for an instant ; he then gave three con
vulsive howls, darted from me, and was soon lost in
the dust raised by his much-loved companion. I re
mained alone. My heart was in a storm of rage and
grief, and I was even tempted to vent my ill-humor
on the miserable hack that fortune had left me, but
this weakness lasted only for a moment. I had learned,
in the many crosses incident to a life of stirring ad
venture, the difficult virtue of resignation, and the dif
ferent phases of this sentimental episode had been ac
companied by circumstances so ludicrous that I fin
ished by throwing myself on the grass and bursting
into a violent fit of laughter.

288

A FOREST IN THE TROPICS.

CHAPTER II.
I arrive at Manantial. — Superstitions of the Jarochos.
The unfortunate occurrence recorded in the preced
ing chapter caused me to change my route. It was
impossible for me to reach Vera Cruz that day, mount
ed as I was ; so I resolved to pass the night at Ma
nantial, a little vidage which I supposed to be not more
than a mde off. I had thus some time before me, and
I thought it could not be better employed than in tak
ing a siesta under the shade of the trees, amid the
green solitude in which I found myself. It was a
spot in one of the most picturesque forests which cov
er almost the entire country between Puente Nacion
al and Vergara. Amid these matted thickets, narrow
paths, cut by the hatchet, run in different directions,
overshadowed by the almost impenetrable foliage of
the trees, whde a wad of luxuriant vegetation on each
side bars every where the entrance of man, and almost
that of the fallow deer. The long, pendent branches
twist and interlace their tendrils with the boughs of
the neighboring trees. The cocoa-nut-tree covers, with
its large leaves, its necklace of green fruit ; and the
Bourbon palms stretch their branches, covered with
shining foliage to the ground ; the silk-cotton-tree
shows its white flakes of cotton just bursting from
the dark green pod. In the deep shade of these in
habitants of the forest the friar's cowl abounds with
its polished chalice ; and at the bottom, as well as the
top of this green vault, the gobeas hang their little
bell-flowers of variegated colors. Such is the aspect

A FOREST IN THE TROPICS. 289
of these woods — an appearance, however, which as
sumes a different phase according to the hour of the
day. At midday the rank vegetation droops under
the scorching rays of the sun, from the palm, with its
towering crest, to the lowly moss which covers the
ground. A hot breeze at that time rushes through
the thickets, and appears to arrest every where the
progress of vegetation ; wild beasts, birds, insects, and
plants — all animated nature, in fact, seems to languish
under this stifling heat ; but when the sun's rays no
longer gild the tree-tops, and the vapors rise slowly
from the ground, to fad back again in dew, these for
ests and their denizens, once so sdent, start again into
life. Overcome by the powerful influence of the sun, I
fed fast asleep without any thought about my horse.
The pettiest thief, indeed, would have been ashamed
of such booty ; and I was, besides, in a district where
no stain of dishonesty rested on the character of the
inhabitants. The sun was yet high in the horizon
when I awoke, but a refreshing breeze was beginning
to temper the sultry heat. High up amid the branch
es of the trees which sheltered me, the paroquets had
begun their discordant noises, and their infernal melo
dy was of such a kind as to annoy even the strongest
nerves. I got impatient ; and, hastily bestriding the
wretched animal which supplied the place of my excel
lent Storm, set out on the beaten path that led to
Manantial. After riding slowly and painfully along for about
half an hour, the shrill croaking of the paroquets al
ways paining my ears, I perceived a horseman a little
way in advance. This cavalier, attired exactly like
one of those who had interrupted Cecilio and me at
N

290 A JAROCHO CAVALIER.
our game, seemed, like myself, to be quite out of hu
mor. He rode, as ad the Jarochos do, with his body
inclined more to one side of the saddle than the other.
His horse shuffled slowly along, and every now and
then he held up his fist to the skies in all the fury of
passion. Delighted that chance had sent me a com
panion in misfortune, I wished to offer him my hearty
condolence, and succeeded in that design beyond my
expectation. Scarcely had I managed, by dint of hard
spurring, to make up to him, than a loud ringing laugh
replaced the mental irritation in which I thought he
had been indulging a minute before.
"May I ask if you are laughing at me?" I said,
abruptly ; for, in the bad humor I was in, this hilarity
seemed quite out of place.
"At you? No, Senor Cavalier," answered the Ja-
rocho. "But you wid excuse me if, at sight of your
horse, I bid adieu for a time to ad customary polite
ness." "My horse is in no worse condition than the an
dante* you are on," I replied, almost choking.
" You may think so ; but that hack of yours is a
mere bag of bones, and it is no small satisfaction to
me to find one worse mounted than myself."
The horseman then began to laugh in such a merry,
unconstrained fashion, that, tickled with the very ab
surdity of the thing, I could not help joining him, and
we had a good hearty laugh together. The squab
bling of the paroquets, struck with the unusual noise,
ceased all of a sudden. They recommenced their ear-
splitting cries, till at last I discharged a pistol at ran
dom among the foliage. To my great surprise, a bird
fed at my feet. * Local synonym for a horse

OUR CONVERSATION. 291
"Did you take aim at it?" asked the astonished
Jarocho. " Of course," I replied, sharply ; " and this will serve
to show you that it is not altogether safe to jest with
people you don't know."
At these words the Jarocho stopped his horse, and,
straightening himself in his saddle, placed one hand
upon his haunch, and pulled his straw hat over his
eyes with the other. He then cried out, " Oigajte,
nor deconocio* I am of a caste and of a country
where words are few, and whose actions are prompt.
I did not mean to offend you ; but if you seek a quar
rel, I shall not flinch. In spite of the disparity of our
weapons, I am not afraid to try which of us is the bet
ter man."
He hummed a tune, drew his sharp sword from the
leathern belt which encircled his waist, and flourished
it in the air. I likewise drew my sabre.
The idea of crossing swords, mounted as we were
on such sorry jades, was so absurd, that we at last
burst into a mutual roar of laughter, which ended the
matter. I then hastened to explain to the Jarocho
that I had no inimical feeling toward him. He held
out his hand.
"I am glad you are satisfied," he replied, "for I
should have been very sorry to have an enemy in one
so brave as you appear to be, as at present I have a
more serious quarrel on my hands."
We then rode along together quite amicably. To
turn the conversation, recading, besides, to my recol
lection the parting words of the two horsemen at the
cross-road, I said, in a careless kind of a tone, " Isn't
there to be a fandango at Manantial to-morrow ?"
* Listen, Sir Stranger.

292 THE FANDANGO.
" There is, confound it ! I promised ria* Sacra-
menta a bow of red ribbons for the occasion, and there
is not a bit to be had in all the neighborhood. At
the very moment you joined me I was cursing my un
lucky star. Probably you are yourself going to the
fandango?" " Well, I am ; but chance alone brought me to think
of it, for I had reckoned on sleeping to-night at Vera
Cruz, had not an unfortunate occurrence come in the
way." "You wid have no cause to regret it, I hope, for
the crowd will be as thick as smoke. But where will
you put up at Manantial ? There is no inn in the
place." " With you, perhaps, since you appear to be so de
sirous to have me at the feteT"
The Jarocho bowed in token of assent, and then be
gan to give me an account of the numerous pleasures
that awaited me on the morrow. Conversing thus,
we reached Manantial. Night had come. A few scat
tered lights gleaming from among the green foliage an
nounced our approach to the vidage. We soon reached
a little clearing in the wood, dotted with cabins formed
of wattled bamboo. This was Manantial. Some men
and women, clad in the national costume, were danc
ing to the monotonous sound of a mandolin, while the
mothers were rocking their infants to sleep in ham
mocks formed of strips of aloe bark. I soon learned
the name of my new host.
"Ah! its Calros,"f cried they, in a tone as if his
arrival had long been looked for. He paid no atten
tion to the greeting of his friends; who advanced to
* Abbreviated form of Dona, used in this part of Mexico.
t Calros, Charles.

DONA SACRAMENTA. 293
welcome him, but his eye roved about till it rested on
the slender and graceful form of a young girl, whose
pretty little feet were twinkling merrily in the dance.
Her hair, black as ebony, was ornamented with a
wreath* of suchil flowers, interspersed with fire-flies,
whose pale bluish light encircled her forehead with a
mysterious and fantastic halo. Draped in a white
robe, whose waving folds were every moment blanched
by the pale rays of the moon, Saeramenta, with her
bare shoulders and variegated hair, looked like a fairy
dancing by night in a glade of the forest, when all
around is at rest.
The almost disdainful glance which she threw at
him showed me at once the true state of affairs. The
Jarocho waited till the dance was finished, and then
advanced toward the girl. By the entreating tone of
his voice, it was clear that he was excusing himself
about the red ribbons he had promised her. I was
too far off to hear his words, but the light which
streamed from a neighboring cottage showed me the
full expression of her features. It was evident that
ad Calros's rhetoric had been useless, and he remount
ed, but with a saddened, irritated air. Saeramenta, in
shaking her head to a remark of his, allowed one of
the suchil flowers to fall from her chaplet. The Ja
rocho regarded it for some time with an undecided air ;
and she, marking his hesitation, and while pressing
the wreath on her forehead, in a fit of coquetry, raised
the flower on the tip of her tiny foot, and presented
it to him. The cloudy countenance of the Jarocho
was now lit up with joy ; he seized the flower ea
gerly, spurred his horse, and was soon lost in the
darkness. * A head-dress greatly in vogue among Mexican females.

294 HOSPITALITY OF CALROS.
It was quite clear that he had completely forgotten
me, but it was as clear that I had no intention of tak
ing up my quarters for the night in the forest.
" Halloo ! Senor Don Calros," I shouted after him,
"you have left me behind."
" Pardon me, Senor Cavalier," cried he, puding up;
"but there are times when I am hardly master of
myself." "I am convinced of that," I said; "and it is cer
tainly no indiscretion in you to forget a stranger whom
you met by the merest chance."
" In my country the stranger is at home every
where ; but you shall not have my hospitality for
nothing, for you must pay me either by doing me a
particular piece of service, or assisting me with your
advice." "With pleasure," I answered, "if it is in my
power." The dweding of the Jarocho, called ajacal, was sit
uated at the other end of the village. A small inclo-
sure, in which a few goats were penned, was attached
to it. The cabin was divided into three apartments
by reed partitions. In one of these, the mother of the
Jarocho was preparing the evening meal over a fire
whose reddish glow lighted up the whole jacal. The
repast consisted of rice boiled in milk, fried bananas,
and red haricots from the Tierra Caliente, which enjoy
a proverbial celebrity in Mexico. When supper was
ended the old woman left the room, wishing me a
pleasant sleep.
The distant thrumming of guitars apprised us that
the company we had left were still keeping up their
merriment. The voice of the Jarocho awoke me from
the reverie in which I had been indulging.

MY HOSTS SUPERSTITION. 295
" Do you see," said he to me, as we were lying at
the door of the cabin, " that fleecy mist which duds
the light of the stars ? These are the vapors which,
at the end of every hot day, arise from the lakes,
brooks, and waterfalls. Do you think it possible that,
at the command of a mortal like ourselves, this shad
owy impalpable fog should assume the form of a friend
who has been lost, or an enemy that has been mur
dered?" "I doubt that much," I replied, astonished at this
preamble ; "I fancied that these superstitious notions
were peculiar only to northern climes."
" Here," said Calros, in a solemn tone, " ghosts
haunt not the abodes of the living ; they love to flit
about in the woods, and to frisk among the leaves and
flowers. But you smile. Let us talk of something
else. Did you see na Saeramenta this evening ?"
" The pretty girl with the wreath of cucuyos and
the suchil chaplet ?"
"The same. She is very beautiful, is she not?
Six months ago, at a fandango in the neighborhood, a
quarrel arose on her account, which was followed by
the death of a man. The victim was a relation of
mine ; and, according to universal custom, it became
my duty to avenge his death. I had, besides, an ad
ditional inducement in seeking the murderer ; he adored
Saeramenta, and every one who loves her is my sworn
enemy. Twenty times have I persuaded myself into
a belief that Saeramenta loved me, and twenty times
have I been forced to confess to myself that I was de
ceived. I feel that I love Saeramenta more than my
life — than my honor, perhaps — else I should have been
on the murderer's traces long ago ; and yet this even
ing I have even ventured to hope."

296 THE SPIRIT OF THE MURDERED MAN.
"Yes, a mere suchil flower may sometimes work
miracles," said I, interrupting him.
" What !" cried Jarocho, " have you the gift of see
ing what no one else has seen ?"
" I only observed what every body else might have
seen, had they chose ; but when a man receives a
flower from the hand of a girl he loves, he needn't, I
think, despair."
"Thank Heaven!" cried the Jarocho, cheerfully.
" Yet," he added, with a sigh, "this is not the first
token I have had from her ; to-morrow the idusions
of this night may be dispelled. Ever since fia Saera
menta came to live at Manantial I have suffered the
utmost tortures of anxiety, and yet vengeance has not
been done on my cousin's murderer. I have tried to
forget that duty ; unluckily, there are others who do
not. The dead man's mother reminds me every day
of the charge which has devolved upon me. Eight
days ago I met the old woman. I wished to avoid
her, but it was impossible. She is looked upon as a
sort of witch by the people around. On passing me
she cried out, ' The dead have better memories than
the living.' I asked her what she meant, although I
knew fud well. ' You will see him to-night,' she re
plied. In truth, that very evening," Calros continued,
in an altered voice, " I was seated at the same place
where we now are, Senor Cavalier ; the door was open,
and my thoughts were engaged about nothing in par
ticular. I was only listening to the voices in the trees
and on the wind ; a pale white mist was creeping up
to the sky, as it is doing now. Ad at once a cloud
came between my eyes and the stars; it took a hu
man form, and the dead man was before me ! I saw
him distinctly, right in front of me. I closed my eyes,

i CONSENT TO CALROS'S REQUEST. 297
and when I opened them he was gone. You will now
understand why I asked you, senor, who, as a Euro
pean, must be a learned man, if mortals like ourselves
can raise the dead."
These superstitious notions are not at all prevalent
in Mexico, and the Jarochos seem to have a complete
monopoly of them. I gently hinted that all this was
nothing but the result of a diseased imagination.
"I know well," said he, " that the ghost of my de
ceased relative has not been raised by any human
power, but I believe that God himself has sent it to
me. I have taken my resolution. I shad not stay
in the village a day after to-morrow, although I leave
it with a broken heart."
" But is there no way of reconcding your duty with
your love ?"
" That can only be done by delegating my powers
to a devoted friend. A guest makes a part of the
famdy ; and in this quality, senor, you might take
my place and seek the murderer, who would not hesi
tate to give you satisfaction."
" That would be too glorious a mission for me, and
I fear I should not be successful in the search," I said,
modestly; "but I have no objections to accompany
you, and aid you in your task."
"That is an offer which I will not refuse," Calros
answered. " We shad then set out the day after to
morrow." This delicate point settled to our mutual satisfaction,
we stretched ourselves under a shed which served as
a sort of veranda to the cabin. A gentle breeze was
beginning to dissipate the heat of the day. The liz
ards were silent in the grass ; and in the savannas,
. the wild cattle, by their joyful lowing, testified to the
N2

298 CHARACTER OF THE JAROCHO.
grateful freshness of the night. Lulled by the soft
murmur of the twittering leaves, I soon fed asleep.

CHAPTER III.
The Fete of Manantial.— The Combat.
The name of Jarochos is given to those peasants
who live on the sea-board round Vera Cruz. Their
costume bears no resemblance whatever to that of the
people around them. The inhabitants of Andalusia
wear a dress very similar to theirs, and it is the gen
eral opinion, from" their manners and character, that
they are the descendants of the Gitanos of that Span
ish province. Their dialect is, like their attire, strange
and singular. It abounds in words of the purest Cas-
tilian, interspersed with local terms disfigured by a
vicious pronunciation, and can not be understood, even
by those who know Spanish, without diligent and care
ful study. They are impatient of restraint, and, con
sequently, id fitted for acting as soldiers or sailors, al
though well versed in the use of arms, and not unac
quainted with the dangers of the sea. It is their love
of independence which causes them to prefer the wan
dering life of the herdsman and the horse-dealer, and
the machete plays no unimportant part in ad then- dif
ficulties. The Jarocho would rather want the most
indispensable part of his dress than be deprived of the
long, sharp, glittering blade which he wears in his belt.
This sabre is more generally in the hand of the Jaro
cho than at his side. A small point of honor, or the
most futde remark, has often been the means of bring
ing on the most bloody and long-continued series of

MY HOST IN FULL DRESS. 299
combats. They are possessed, however, of some rare
qualities, which atone for their defects. The Jarocho
is temperate, frank, loyal, and hospitable to the whites
(by this term he means the higher classes) ; he looks
upon theft with horror ; he loves the place of his birth.
A stranger to every desire for wealth, he lives content
ed with a little in the midst of a fertile country where
three harvests a year cover the ground, which is sown
but not tilled. The inhabitants of the country round
Vera Cruz are in general robust and well made. They
are strong and muscular ; and nature has thrown round
their persons an air of elegance in exact harmony with
the devotion the Jarocho pays to three things : his
horse, his sword, and his mistress.
Seven years before my arrival in Mexico, I once
had an opportunity of meeting with one of this singu
lar race ; but, from want of familiarity with Spanish,
I could not well understand his peculiar dialect.
As soon as I awoke in the morning, I was remind
ed, by the handsome and elegant dress of my host,
that it was the fete-day of Manantial. A twisted
fringe, strung with Venetian pearls, and studded at
regular distances with little mirrors, ran round his hat ;
his shirt, of the finest linen, was embroidered in the
most beautiful manner ; the buttons of his velvet cal-
zonera at his girdle were made of solid piastres, and
those which ran down his legs of reals and half reals.
On his feet were half-boots of Cordovan leather. His
cortante* polished to the highest degree of brilliancy,
hung suspended from his girdle of scarlet silk, and two
bows of the same color adorned its hdt. Set out thus
to the best advantage, the Jarocho had an air of re
finement about him which augured well for his success.
* Local name for a sword.

300 MANANTIAL ON A FETE-DAY.
In spite of a degree of satisfaction which shone upon
his countenance, Calros could not help twirling the
end of his mustache with an anxious" expression. His
joy seemed to be mixed with an alloy of bitterness.
I asked him the cause of it.
" Ah ! if you could only free me of my vow of ven
geance, I should be relieved of a charge which wdl em
bitter, I fear, all my pleasures."
" What ! will your oath keep you from drinking,
singing, and playing ?"
"No, but it will hinder me from knocking a fellow
down ; and what is a fandango without some little
quarrel to enliven it ? No matter ; one can not have
all one's pleasures at once. I shall sing louder, play
more, and drink as much as will soothe me for the dis
appointment." I doubted much the calming efficacy of Catalonian
brandy, but I affected to believe fudy in the power of
the remedy.
Manantial, like the Jarocho, had put on its holiday
garb for the occasion. An unusual stir was visible in
the vidage. At the doors of the cabins, women, ar
rayed in abundance of muslin and lace, appeared from
time to time, decked with gold and coral ornaments,
so dear to the swarthy beauties of Southern countries.
In a glade, an estrade had been erected for the accom
modation of the dancers ; little shops had been im
provised for the supply of water, tepache, and Catalo
nian brandy ; gambling-tables had been set up. In a
few hours the Jarochos from the surrounding vidages
would come pouring in. The sun was shining full
upon the spot in all its dazzling brilliancy. The
shadow cast by the palm-trees, already a little off the
perpendicular, showed that it was two hours past noon.

PREPARATIONS FOR A DANCE. 301
Crowds of horsemen now began to arrive, who, after
alighting, tied their foaming steeds to the trunks of
the trees or the pillars of the houses. Horses and
men were soon mingled together in strange confusion ;
the cries of the men, the neighing of the steeds, and
the tuning of guitars, were now heard on ad sides.
Circles were speedily formed round the gambdng-ta-
bles, the ventorillos* or the estrade reserved for the
female dancers. Here I stationed myself.
The estrade, on which female dancers were alone to
figure, was elevated a few inches above the ground.
According to a singular custom prevailing in ad the
vidages round Vera Cruz, the men on this occasion are
mere spectators of the women's performances. A Ja
rocho squatted himself down on the ground close to
the estrade, and commenced strumming his mandolin.
Eight or ten girls answered to his call, and began to
dance. I could not help admiring the graceful dex
terity with which many of them carried a glass of wa
ter on their heads without spilhng a drop, dancing,
too, all the while with the greatest vigor ; or the agdity
with which they untied, without using their hands, the
sdk bows attached to their shoes, f When this dance,
very coldly applauded, was finished, the guitar struck
up a new tune, that of the dance caded petenera.
This time the estrade was quite full, and among the
women who advanced to take a part in this measure I
recognized, by her graceful mien and dazzling beauty,
Dona Saeramenta, whom my host called, in his flow
ery language, his dearly-beloved angel on earth. She
was attired in a beautiful dress of transparent muslin.
* A kind of shed erected for the sale of brandy, tepache (a ferment
ed liquor made from ananas), and other intoxicating liquors.
t This dance is called bomba.

302 SACRAMENTA ADORNED FOR THE DANCE.
Her rounded arms were adorned in the upper part by
the embroidery and lace of her cambric chemise, the
rest remained bare. The contour of her fair shoulders
was masked, but not entirely concealed, by a gorget
of lace very hke Arlesian. She wore shoes of the
most beautiful satin, and a tress of her magnificent
black hair was wound round a tortoise-shed comb
mounted with massy gold. Her eyelids, cast down
under the fiery glances that were shot from all sides
at her, allowed one to see the long silken lashes with
which they were fringed. She was not now the calm
beauty that I had admired the evening before in the
moonlight, but an impassioned daughter of the tropics
in ad her brilliancy.
The excitement among the spectators, increased by
their frequent libations, became greater and greater
every minute, but another and a more intense interest
was soon awakened in the minds of the, crowd.
" Ah !" cried a Jarocho at my side, whose hah- was
beginning to turn gray, " at the last fandango held at
Malibran,* Quilimaco lost one of his ears, and Juan
de Dios the point of his nose, in a quarrel that arose
about a beauty who was not worth a lock of hair com
pared with that girl there."
"Have patience, tio,"\ answered another; "the
beautiful Saeramenta has more than one aspirant in
this village, and I venture to predict that, before night
fall, she will have danced the machete and chamarra
for two at least among us."
I did not understand what they meant, but the
events that followed soon explained it. Two groups
* A little village about three leagues from Vera Cruz.
t Uncle, an expression of endearment, applied to men advanced in
years.

THE JAEOCHO'S DESPAIR. 303
had by this time formed round the estrade occupied by
the dancers. In the first, a Jarocho, as richly dress
ed as Calros, seemed to exercise a marked ascendency.
In the second, my host appeared to be the head of an
other party. Animated by the hope of some quarrel
arising between the two factions, the musicians strum
med their guitars with redoubled ardor, and a fearful
discord filled the air. Just when the dancers were
beginning to put themselves in motion, some singers
chanted, in a nasal tone of voice, a couplet whose words
bore no relation whatever to the present circumstances,
and which consisted of a series of proverbs put in verse,
almost devoid of meaning, but strongly tinged with
obscene adusions. I was then standing near my host,
whose eye was fodowing with a jealous attention the
least movement of Saeramenta, but she did not deign
to bestow upon him the slightest glance.
" You see my hard fate," said he to me, in a low
voice; "in high hope one day, in despair the next.
We shall set out to-morrow."
These last words betrayed such poignant grief that
I could not help cursing in my heart that pitiless co
quetry which could wound the feelings of so ardent a
lover. "Ah!" he resumed, "she has not yet forgiven me
for that confounded bow of red ribbons which I was
unable to procure for her."
At this moment his rival advanced to the estrade,
and uncovering, presented his hat to Saeramenta with
a very gadant air. She received it with a smile, with
out interrupting for a moment the evolutions in which
she was engaged. Calros's face appeared quite im
passible, and he contented himself with making an al
most imperceptible gesture to one of his partisans.

304, HOMAGE PAID TO SACRAMENTA.
This person then advanced in his turn and did the
same. Custom demanded that, in a case like this, the
maiden should show preference to neither ; she there
fore continued to dance with the two hats in her hand.
The advantage of seeing his hat placed upon the head
of the- dancer would by right belong to the third gal
lant ; and, as I expected, Calros was the one who prof
ited by this usage. The two rivals then exchanged
looks of mutual defiance, while the first, untying his
sash of China crape, formed it into a rosette, and step
ped forward to suspend it to the bare shoulder of Sa
eramenta. The guitars, now struck with the greatest vigor,
made almost as much noise as a band of trumpeters,
and the voices of the singers increased in proportion.
The men were exchanging looks of evident satisfaction,
but the women were chattering among themselves, evi
dently envying the homage "paid to Saeramenta. This
young girl kept her feet in motion ; her complexion
was heightened by a reddish glow, which lent an ad
ditional charm to her radiant black eyes. A vague
apprehension, however, seemed to agitate her bosom.
At once happy and miserable, she dared not turn her
eyes upon him whose heart yearned for her with such
true affection. In spite, also, of Calros's apparent
calm, the involuntary working of the muscles of his
face disclosed the torture he was suffering.
"Courage!" said I to him, in a whisper; "have
you not on your heart the suchil flower ?"
Calros raised his head, as if the remembrance of
that had restored all his confidence. He seized his
machete, and went to suspend it at Sacramenta's shoul
der. I then understood the meaning of the prediction
that I had heard some time before. Saeramenta danced

PLEDGES AND THEIR REDEMPTION. 305
with the machete and chamarra of two of her suitors.
It was a singular sight to see a long, sharp, glittering
blade dangling from the nude shoulder of the young
girl, in such close proximity to her heaving bosom.
A sudden sdence now fell upon the crowd, simdar
to what sometimes takes place at a bull-fight when
the arena has received its first stains of blood. Ad
at once a loud and imposing male voice near the or
chestra exclaimed " Bomba ! " The instruments'ceased
to sound, and the song died away. The voice was
that of Calros's rival, who now chanted a couplet ex
pressive of his confidence in his mistress's tenderness,
while the friends of the Jarocho repeated the last line
in chorus. Calros then answered in a high key by
saying that he would not have a divided heart, and
that his rival was a traitor.
The Jarocho replied in another recitative, by in
quiring if he had spirit sufficient to meet him in fair
combat. Calros then, with a smile upon his face, ex
pressed his willingness to meet this traitor, this vaga
bond, this false friend.
Whether Saeramenta was weary of the dance, or
overcome by the general emotion which was manifest
ed when this last couplet was chanted, I know not,
but she stepped hastily from the estrade, and her com
panions fodowed her. Instructed by past experience
not to wait for the commencement of the melee, as
their instruments generally suffer in the fray, the mu
sicians hurriedly retired. Some customary pieces of
ceremony were still, however, to be gone through;
the suitors must redeem the pledges given to the danc
er. The customary fee for these is half a real each.
The two rivals advanced, one after the other, and filled
both hands of Saeramenta with sdver coin. While

306 THE AUNT OF CALROS.
she was receiving the forfeits, in the midst of mur
murs of applause excited by the prodigality of the two
Jarochos, and which she could not refuse without be
ing gudty of rudeness, her two dttle outstretched
hands trembled involuntarily, and her pale lips tried,
but in vain, to smile. Calros fruitlessly sought a
look of encouragement from her. Pale and mute, and
evidently laboring under an emotion too powerful for
concealment, she kept her eyes fixed upon the ground.
The machete would decide the question ; and the
pleasures of the fete were going to be wound up by
my host in spite of his sage resolutions, when an old
woman, elbowing her way through the crowd, remind
ed him of the oath he was about to violate. She was
the mother of his dead relative.
" It is a shame, nor Don Calros," cried the beldame,
" to take a new quarrel upon you when your cousin's
death has not yet been avenged."
The Jarocho was evidently taken aback at this un
seasonable interruption, and he made all the efforts he
could to induce the old woman to retract what she had
said, but to ad his reasons she had one unvarying re-
"Well, na Josefita," said Calros at last, good-hu-
moredly, "you are making a great work about noth
ing, and are mistrusting my good intention ; for, if I
fight this man, am I not keeping my hand in exer
cise ?"
"And should you happen to be ran through the
body, who wid then avenge my son ?"
"You are right there," replied Calros, thrown off
his guard by this argument; "but that's just the way:
the women are always mixing themselves up in busi
ness that does not concern them. Any one may now

WILL ANY ONE FIGHT ME? 307
take my place," he continued, with an ill-natured air,
"if my adversary consent."
His rival bowed, and, poising his hat jauntily over
his right ear, placed at the same time his hand upon
the hdt of his machete, and with his right leg thrown
slightly in advance, exclaimed, with an air of haughty
condescension, "What do I mean' by all this? Wid
the good folks of Manantial allow it to be said that
they suffered their fandango to be terminated without
bestowing the customary honors upon their visitors ?
Now," he continued, his eyes winking with increased
rapidity, " if I can not knock a man down for the
sweet eyes of na Saeramenta, I shad forfeit to any
one who draws the first blood a bottle of Catalonian
brandy." Loud shouts of applause interrupted the orator, who,
raising his head with an air of assurance, thus went
on : "I must say, however, that, having expended my
last real not an hour ago, I can not pay and must con
quer. Will any one here fight me on these conditions?"
This ridiculous fanfaronade, quite in the spirit of a
Jarocho, was welcomed enthusiastically by the by
standers. As for the speaker, looking upon Calros,
who was biting his thumbs, he cried impudently,
" Come, now, Don Calros, you have no lack of friends
to take your place."
But the enthusiasm of the crowd had died away.
The prospect of paying the forfeit in one's own per
son, and out of one's own purse, did not appear to be
welcomed by any of the on-lookers, and I was not
without some apprehension that Calros would revert
to his former idea by asking me to become his substi
tute. Happily, an unexpected incident occurred which
saved the honor of the villagers of Manantial.

308 THE HONOR OF THE VILLAGE IS SAA'iSD.
By the same road that I had reached the village the
evening before, a horseman was descried gadoping
along at his utmost speed. All eyes were turned upon
the new-comer, who appeared to be a stranger, and
whom I recognized as one of the horsemen who had
interrupted my game with Cecilio. The unknown
alighted, and, without saying a word, tied his horse to
one of the wooden pidars of a house ; then, still sdent,
he stepped to the estrade, drew his machete, at whose
hilt fluttered a bow of red ribbons, with its point traced
a circle in the sand, and then stuck his sword in the
centre. A dead silence welcomed this strange visitant. The
sword stuck in the ground seemed to me to convey a
defiance to ad the village. The antagonist desired by
the rival of Calros appeared to have stepped in at the
proper time. The general gaze was now directed to
the former boaster, but he evidently did not feel in-
*clined to take up this unlooked-for challenge. The
stranger, who looked like one of those Paladins on
whom a vow of silence has been imposed, advanced as
haughtily as he had come to one of the ventorillos,
called for a glass of brandy, and raised it to his mouth;
but, with the air of a man who disdains to assist his
courage by artificial stimulants, instead of drinking it,
he tossed the liquor over his shoulder. He then cast
upon all the by-standers a proud glance of defiance.
All the villagers viewed the unknown with admira
tion, but none seemed so impatient to measure their
strength with this brilliant champion as Calros. If
the readersremember, he was not in favor with Saera
menta, owing to the affair of the bow of red ribbons.
Now at the hilt of the stranger's sword hung a bow
of ribbons of the very color she wanted.

THE STRANGER'S CHALLENGE IS ACCEPTED. 309
"Viva!" he whispered to me; "the old woman may
go to the devd ; Saeramenta shall have her ribbons."
He then went and planted his sword beside that of
the unknown. The chadenge was accepted. The
stranger courteously carried his hand to his hat, and,
having considered his adversary for a moment, cast a
rapid look among the group of females, as if singling
out some one on whom to bestow the homage of his
valor. He was not long in discovering the beautiful
Saeramenta, and, stepping toward her, exclaimed, with
admirable self-possession, "The fandangoes of Medel-
lin have lost all their attraction since na Saeramenta
is no longer there to enliven them with her presence.
May I flatter myself that she has not forgotten them,
and one of her most fervent apasionados V
The young woman was going to reply, when Calros,
whose jealousy was ever awake, approached the un
known, and said, " Pardon me, Senor Cavalier, but I
have a particular liking for red ribbons. Will you
surrender those that adorn your machete as forfeit for
the first blood drawn?"
" With pleasure," answered the stranger. "I should
hardly have ventured to offer them in homage to Dona
Saeramenta; henceforth they shall have a certain val
ue in my eyes, as being the price of blood shed for
her." After saying these words with a gracious smile, he
uncovered himself, and plucked his sword out of the
ground. Calros did so too. A polite altercation then
took place between them as to who should be the first
to place his hat on his head ; but this was soon decid
ed by bonneting at the same time. The most expe
rienced of the spectators undertook the task of select
ing a spot free from the sun's rays. This done, the

310 THE COMBAT.
combatants stood face to face, the villagers surrounded
them, and they waited for the signal to begin. If the
stranger was as skillful as he was brave, Calros would
find in him a tough opponent, and the issue might
probably be unsuccessful to this ardent lover of Sae
ramenta. The word was given, and the combat com
menced. Their blows were so furiously put that it
looked more like an encounter for life and death than
a contest for the first blood.* Sometimes the swords
cut the air with a mournful sough ; sometimes they
struck one another with a shrill clang. It was evi
dent, however, that the stranger looked more to the
honor of his antagonist than to his life. Now, in
combats of this sort, the great point is to guard the
hand. A wounded hand is the greatest stain upon the
reputation of the most renowned swordsman. The
loss of life even is not such a disgrace. Unluckily,
the red ribbons, fluttering at the hilt of the unknown's
sword, protected his hand more securely than even the
best steel guard could have done. It was to deck the
beautiful hair of Saeramenta that Calros was exposing
his life ; it was to guard these ribbons from stain that
the Jarocho stood so grimly on his defense. In the
course of the combat the swordsmen had now gone
over a considerable space of ground. The tumultuous
crowd wavered to and fro, and followed the two combat
ants as they were successively displaced. Neither had
yet received a scratch, when the sword of the stranger,
striking that of Calros, glided along the whole length
of the blade. A moment after, my host's fingers be
ing cut, he was just about to drop his machete, but a
rude parry he made to save his arm failed, and the
* The Jarochos know nothing of scientific fencing, and trust alto
gether to strength and agility of body.

CALROS THE VICTOR. 311
blood poured out from a wound above his wrist. At
the same instant a bloody stain appeared upon the
shoulder of the stranger. The two swords were low
ered at once, and the combat was decided without its
being possible for me to say which of the two had been
first wounded ; but the skilled and experienced eyes
of the witnesses had decided that question. The un
known did not even appeal to their judgment ; but,
detaching the silk bow which adorned his machete,
fixed the much-coveted ornament upon its point, and
held it out to his adversary, thus confessing himself
conquered. This last act of courtesy won him ad
hearts ; and, in spite of his defeat, he partook with
his rival in all the honors of victory. One thing only
remained, which my host perhaps desired more. Dur
ing the whole time the combat had lasted, a deadly
paleness had overspread the countenance of Saera
menta, but that soon gave place to a more lively color
when Calros advanced toward her. While she was
receiving the precious ribbons which he had so val
iantly fought for, the tumultuous heavings of her bo
som, a sweet and radiant smile, and looks no more cast
down to the ground, all proclaimed in the most elo
quent manner to the happy Jarocho that his beloved
attached as much value to the bow of scarlet ribbons
as he had done to the withered suchd flower which had
faden from her hair the night before.
This last episode had passed unnoticed by almost
every body. The men surrounded the stranger, who
this time invited them to a ventorillo. Calros soon
joined the company, and the two rivals began a con
test of prodigality, to the great delight of all the vil
lagers, who, as they swallowed the brandy in long
draughts, congratulated themselves on having had such

312 ANOTHER STRANGER.  THEY BOTH DEPART.
a brildant fandango as would furnish matter for con
versation for a week to come. For my part, after
some words had passed between the former rivals, I
was on the point of addressing the stranger, when the
general attention was directed to a horseman who was
seen advancing at full gallop. This cavalier was no
other than the person with whom the unknown had
agreed the evening before to meet at Manantial.
When he saw the blood which stained his shirt, the
new-comer cried, " Have you passed a pleasant time
here, friend Julian ?"
" Better than I could have expected, friend Ventu
ra," answered the stranger.
"Well, did I not tell you what would happen?"
said the horseman, pointing to the sky, which, having
been covered with clouds for some time, now betoken
ed a coming storm. " We shall have some hard work
presently upon the beach. Will you accompany me ?"
" Widingly," answered the unknown, sadly, " for I
am afraid I have nothing to hope for here."
And, remounting his horse, after shaking every one
by the hand, the two friends went off at a galloj?. A
general break-up then followed. The passage at arms
between Calros and Julian had closed the fete in a
worthy manner.
Who were Julian and Ventura ? None of the Ja
rochos around me seemed to know them ; but I in
tended to interrogate Calros about the strangers on the
first opportunity. When night had come, and we
were lying together under the veranda of my host's
cabin, I was on the point of questioning him about the
two mysterious individuals, when the light tread of a
person walking over the dry grass interrupted me. It
was the old woman Josefa. Carefully draped, in spite
of the heat, in her rebozo, which allowed onlv her two

WE SET OUT FOR BOCCA DEL RIO. 313
sparkling dark eyes to be seen, the old woman pre
sented a complete specimen of those sorceresses that
are stdl to be found in Mexico among so many other
remnants of the Middle Ages.
" I have been charged with a message for you," said
she to Calros, " and from the lips of one dear to you,
who will welcome you on your return, if you ever re
turn alive. You will be told when to set out as soon
as you are ready."
The Jarocho rose briskly, and fodowed the old
woman. An hour afterward he returned. He knew
that her most fervent wishes accompanied him in his
perilous enterprise, and his brow was radiant with de
light. " It is, however, very hard to leave Saeramenta,"
he remarked, "but I have no longer a pretext for de
ferring my departure, and we shall set out to-morrow
morning." '
"So be it ; but what road do you intend to take ?
Do you know to what place the murderer has fled ?"
" We shad keep by the coast. Old Josefa assures
me that the pilot Ventura wid put me on his traces.
He is at Bocca del Rio. Down there we shad cer
tainly meet him."
When Calros named Ventura, I was desirous to sat
isfy my curiosity by asking who he was. I inquired
if he knew this Ventura, and, above ad, Julian, whose
chivalrous conduct had singularly interested me ; but,
as I obtained nothing but vague replies, I was confirm
ed in my design of accompanying my entertainer to
Bocca del Rio, where I hoped to meet the two friends.
Next morning we' saddled our horses before dawn,
and, as soon as it was daydght, quitted the village,
which was still enveloped in its usual morning fog.
O •

cftfje plot tkntorct.

CHAPTER I.
Vera Cruz. — Bocca del Rio.
The place where Vera Cruz now stands is not that
on which Cortez first disembarked. It was not tid
the end of the sixteenth century that Count de Mon
terey, the viceroy, laid the foundations of the present
city. Destined to become the key to New Spain,
Vera Cruz was budt by the conquerors with all the
splendor which they usually lavished on their under
takings. The houses were made large and spacious,
and the streets crossed each other at right angles, to
allow the fresh sea-breezes to circulate freely, and to
temper the intense heat of the atmosphere. Still faith
ful to that antipathy to trees, which seems a distinc
tive trait in their hygienic principles, the Spaniards
chose, as a site for the first maritime city in Mexico,
a vast sandy plain, enlivened by scarcely a spot of
verdure, arid not even containing a single spring of
water. Even before it was first visited by the yellow
fever, a situation so unfavorable gave to Vera Cruz a
melancholy appearance, which it has preserved to this
day. The town, though scarcely all built upon, nev
ertheless quickly attained a very high degi'ee of pros
perity. It was from its ill-sheltered roadstead that
those rich galleons sailed which c'onveyed to Europe a
mass of wealth far surpassing the much-vaunted treas
ure* of Potosi.

DESCRIPTION OF THE TOWN. 315
Few remains of its former grandeur are now to be
seen. Budt on too large a scale for its decreasing
population, this city, once so flourishing, never tritd
to struggle against that decline which is soon made
known to the traveler by its empty houses and desert
ed streets. The wind from the sea exercises in full
force its destructive agency ; and the terrible periodi
cal gales are sometimes so violent as to tear down the
crumbling wads of the palaces, and lift from their beds
the rusty cannon which serve for posts upon the quays.
In Vera Cruz you are reminded of the cities of the
East, as wed from the rich and picturesque costumes
of the people of the neighboring coast and of the inte
rior, who flock to the town, as by the dull appearance
of the houses and public buddings. Every where you
observe domes of various colors, steeples shooting high
into the air, balconies ornamented with massive grat
ings ; and, as if to increase the resemblance still more,
the women of the upper classes are never seen in the
streets. If you wish to get a glimpse of them, you
must penetrate into the interior of the houses, or,
rather, go out after sunset. Then, the murmur of
mysterious voices, the rustling of a fan, and some pale
figures, blanched by the rays of the moon, sitting be
hind a Venetian blind half opened, reveal the presence
of the fair Vera Cruzans to the stranger, whom the
freshness of the night, and the delicious coolness of
the sea-breeze, have brought out upon the streets.
Washed on one side by the ocean, which is gradu-
ady wearing away its admirable mole, surrounded by
heaps of sand, which the wind is continually shifting,
Vera Cruz, at the present moment, submits with in
difference to the progressive encroachment of the sand
hills and the daily ravages of the waves. The north-

316 DECAYING APPEARANCE OF THE CITY.
east wind carries before it, in dense whirling masses,
large bodies of sand. For many centuries a line of
movable hids has been thus graduady formed behind
the city. These hillocks, improperly caded medanos,
are continually augmented by fresh additions, and are
ever changing, according to the caprice of the wind,
their place and figure. Some rise in the air like pyr
amids, from the top of which smad portions of sand
are constantly flying off like a never-fading bank of
fog. The great number of these medanos, many of
which attain a height of from fourteen to more than
thirty feet, threatens to bury the town ; but, as the
danger is stid distant, and in hot countries one's ex
istence hangs merely by a thread, the inhabitants leave
to their posterity the task of providing against that
emergency. Another disadvantage still more serious
is, that the medanos hinder the rain-water from flow
ing away. Small lakes are thus formed at the bottom
of these sand-hids ; and the parched-up ground is grad
ually converted into a fenny marsh, from which arise
the most pernicious exhalations. A thick layer of
mud fertilizes the sand, and all the noxious plants
which abound in low, moist grounds are here produced
in countless profusion. During the rainy season this
rank vegetation spreads and grows round all the mar
gin of the ponds. The mangroves shoot their branch
es down to the ground. They take root there, pro
duce new trunks, and soon form impenetrable thickets
— haunts of numberless reptiles of every kind. A
thick crust of greenish scum carpets the surface of the
water. The fermentation which sets in on the return
of hot weather in these frightful marshes disperses del
eterious miasmas abroad, and removes to a distance
the swarms of musquitoes. For three months of the

A TEMPEST IS APPROACHING. 317
year, however, the impetuous squalls which usuady
prevad sweep away all pestilential vapors, and mo
mentarily purify these sinks of putrefaction.
The reader may perhaps remember that, the day
after the fandango at Manantial, I had set out with
Calros to seek the murderer whom he had sworn to
punish. On leaving the village, there were signs
abroad which showed the near approach of one of those
tempests caused by the north wind, termed by seamen
northers. A strange, dreamy sort of languor seemed
to brood over all nature ; the suffocating heat caused
our horses to foam and pant, although our pace was
designedly slow, and our lungs sought in vain for the
freshness of the morning air.
We had traveled only a few hours on a road over
shadowed by trees, when a dull, hollow, rumbling noise
was heard. It was the sound of waves ; we were ap
proaching the sea without being able to discover its
whereabouts. A few minutes afterward we debouch
ed upon the beach, and I could not help contemplat
ing with delight that ocean which bathed the shores
of Europe. In the distance we descried Vera Cruz,
with its spires and domes, and the fort San Juan de
Udoa, that stood like a rock among the bidows, above
which shot the tad, slender masts of the shipping in
the roads.
The state of the sea gave every indication of a tem
pest, of which we had recognized the first symptoms
in the wood. The waves gently licked the sand ; a
more than usually keen smed was distinguishable ; the
fish were evidently uneasy, leaping high out of the
water ; and the sea-birds wheeled round and round in
the air, uttering mournful cries. Thick clouds were
already sweeping up over the town. All at once a

318 PRESAGES OF A COMING STORM.
large cleft was observable in them. The Sierra of
San Martin, which extends from Tuxtla to the mouth
of the Goazacoalco, was suddenly stripped of the veil
which had, till now, hid the range from our eyes, and
its sharp peaks were brought out in bold relief against
the deep blue sky.
" Woe betide the ships that are in the gulf just
now!" said Calros, "for the north wind will advance
upon them sword in hand ;* this will be a tempestu
ous night. We shall know something more about it
this evening at Bocca del Rio."
I made no reply at first. I was gazing on the
ocean. To-morrow I intended to bid adieu to Mexi
co, and to embark for France. Contending emotions
were striving for mastery within me. The joy at my
return, long desired as it had been, was tinged with a
momentary feeling of dejection. The country that I
was about to leave had satisfied my thirst for adven
ture, and I wished ever afterward to lead a more calm
and equable life. Calros's remark reminded me that
I had not yet left this life of peril, from which I fan
cied I had been freed too easily. When, after saying-
nothing for a few moments, I told him — a little con
fused, I own — that I intended to embark in the first
American ship that was leaving the roads, Calros ob
jected with an air of chagrin, reminding me of my
promise to accompany him to Bocca del Rio ; and he
then pointed out the threatening appearance of the
sea. Not a single ship will lift her anchor here for
four days, he added ; and this last argument was de
cisive. I then agreed to his terms. I arranged to
* Con espada en mano, a local term to denote the fury of the north
east wind. It commonly blows for fifty hours when it is strong. If
weak, it lasts sometimes five or six days.

VERA CRUZ.- — THE NORTHER. 319
spend one of the four days- of detention with him at
Bocca del Rio, to assist in the search for the murder
er. That port is only twelve miles from Vera Cruz.
Calros intended to go through the city on the way to
his vidage. For my part, I resolved to stay in town
to make arrangements for my departure, after which I
meant to rejoin Calros in the evening.
A short time after this we entered Vera Cruz. Upon
the arid, sandy plain which surrounds the town, some
muleteers had pitched their tents, waiting impatiently
for the time when they could fly this pestiferous coast,
which carries off some of their number at almost every
trip. Farther off, a few negro porters, accustomed to
this burning climate, were wrestling and struggling on
the sand, paying no regard to the fine clothes they
wore. I could not help smiling involuntardy when I
compared in my own mind their condition with those
of our porters at home. After renewing my promise to
Calros of meeting him soon, I repaired to the counting-
house of my correspondent. I shall pass over in si
lence the worthless incidents which occurred during
this day, till the time when I had to quit the town
and set out for Bocca del Rio.
The wind now began to blow strongly from the
north. When I reached the shore, after passing the
outskirts of the town, great black clouds, preceded by
drifting scud, veded the face of the sky, and an icy
blast, charged with cold from Hudson's Bay, struck
me at intervals upon the face. The waves broke on
the beach with a mighty roar, and the water came up
as far as my horse's feet in large sheets of white foam.
The farther I advanced, the wind seemed to increase
in fury, and the night was growing darker and darker.
Forced sometimes to turn my back to avoid the clouds

320 THE MYSTERIOUS CAVALIER.
of drifting sand, I now and then had a glimpse of the
town that I repented of having left. At regular inter
vals, the light-house of San Juan de Udoa blazed up in
ad the beauty of its revolving light, sometimes gleam
ing on Vera Cruz shrouded in darkness, and then on
the roadstead white with foam. For a moment I dis
cerned the ships at their anchors pitching up and down
on the broken swell, and almost driving on each other.
The light soon turned, and all was dark. It was
scarcely the season for a nocturnal excursion. I ad
vanced, however, with a resolution that deserved some
credit, and had already approached the wood at the
extremity of which lies the vidage of Bocca del Rio,
when I fancied I distinguished a cavalier somewhat in
advance of me. I hastened toward him. Enveloped
in a large blue cloak, he seemed at a distance like a
Franciscan. The noise of the tempest was so loud
and overpowering that I was by his side before he
perceived me. I then saw he was not a monk, but a
peasant of the coast, whose bayeta* I had taken for a
frock. With his hand upon his eyes to guard them
from the dazzling glare of the lightning, the horseman
rode on, casting keen glances toward one side, as if
seeking to pierce the dark veil which hung- over the
ocean ; but nothing could be seen but the white crest
of the waves lashed into fury by the violence of the
storm. I shouted to the stranger with all the force
of my lungs, but the violence of the wind hindered my
words from reaching him. Ad at once a loud report
was heard in the distance. At the sound, as if it had
been a signal he had been ardently expecting, the cav-
ader put spurs to his horse, and galloped off in the di-
* A kind of cloak of woolen cloth worn almost exclusively by the
Jarcchos.

I REACH BOCCA DEL RIO.  THE WRECKERS. 321
rection of the woods of Bocca del Rio. He was soon
lost to view among the trees, and my only care was,
in the midst of the lianas and underwood, to keep the
straight path which led to the houses. I had reason
to hope that, once among the trees and sheltered from
the fury of the wind, I could fodow the road with ease.
As soon as I entered the wood, the noise of the waves
graduady died away. I rode almost an hour beneath
this leafy vault in complete darkness, and it was not
without regret that I again perceived, by a flash of
lightning, a long line of foaming breakers. I soon ar
rived at Bocca del Rio, so called from its situation at
the mouth of the river ; but, on issuing from the wood,
an interesting spectacle met my view, which decided
me to make a short halt.

CHAPTER II.
The Wreckers. — Narrow Escape of Ventura.
In spite of the violence of the tempest, the whole
population of Bocca del Rio were assembled on the
beach, and all eyes were fixed on the boding sheet of
foam, whose phosphorescent light contrasted strongly
with the deep black of the heavens above. Not a sail
was in sight. The distant bo6m of a gun, however,
signaled that a ship was in distress, and that a pilot,
was required. In such a night as this, it was evident
that nothing short of a mdacle could save the luckless
vessel from being dashed to pieces. Still, as another
gun had not been heard, it was hoped that the ship
exposed to the tempest had weathered the danger.
Besides, a pilot who had left that morning before the
O 2

322 A SHIP DRIVES ON SHORE.
norther-hegsji to "blow had very likely got on board,
and his consummate seamanship and skdl eased some
minds. A few, however, persisted in looking upon
the ship as doomed.
I soon recognized Calros, whom curiosity had
brought to the spot. Just when he was concluding
his account about the general gathering of the people
of the vidage, we heard another heavy boom, and this
time more distinctly than the last. A flash was soon
followed by a third report, and at the end of a few sec
onds the dark mass of a vessel was distinctly seen,
driving on shore with as much rapidity as if she had
been impelled by sails. Apparently no power could
now save her. A by-stander, however, remarked that
there was stid a chance of safety, if she succeeded in
reaching a part of the bay, opposite to which ran a
kind of natural canal, where she might glide softly on
to a sandy beach ; but if, on the contrary, the luckless
ship were driven on the rocks, she would infallibly go
to pieces as soon as she grounded. Unfortunately,
no one could exactly make out the place in question
in the dark, since we could not light any fires for fear
of guiding her in a wrong direction.
All the manoeuvres of the ship appeared to be now
directed to impelling her in the direction of the canal
that was covered by the waves. Sometimes she drift
ed broadside on, sometimes she ran right before the
gale, in the direction of the shore. A cry of joy sud
denly arose that was heard above the roaring of the
tempest. About a gunshot from the place where we
were standing, a beacon-fire flashed up with a brilliant
flame. Had some courageous fedow hazarded his life
to point out the passage into the place of safety ? We
fancied that the people on board put the same con-

SHE STRIKES.  THE PILOT VENTURA. 32;j
struction upon the hght as we did, for the ship was
seen advancing toward the light with great rapidity,
looming larger and larger as she approached the shore.
The light was waved backward and forward, but was
kept always in a straight line. A single jib was the
only sail that could be set to assist her in answering
her helm. Sometimes, when the wind lulled for an
instant, her motion appeared to be checked, but a fresh
gust soon gave her a new impulse. At last, carried
on the top of a high wave, the vessel hung for an in
stant upon her larboard quarter, then upon her star
board ; she then started forward and canted on her
broadside, her timbers grinding heavdy against the
ground. A cry of distress reached our ears, heard
distinctly above the roar of the winds and waves ; at
the same instant the light went out, like one of those
glow-worms which flit through the air at night in fen
ny places, and lead the incautious traveler into quag
mires. The schooner was a complete wreck. All we
could now do was to save the crew and passengers.
While some were deliberating on the means that
should be adopted for that purpose, a man was seen
making his way along the bows of the wrecked ship,
and, by the light of a lamp which shone full upon his
face, I distinguished a person who was no longer un
known to me since his visit to Manantial — I mean the
pilot Ventura. Some words that he directed to us
through a speaking-trumpet were heard very indis
tinctly, but a line that he held in his hand left us in
no doubt as to his meaning. Ventura was begging us
to launch a boat to take the end of a rope on shore.
But it was impossible that any thing could swim amid
these breakers. A boat was then lowered from the
bow* of the schooner, several seamen got in. and pulled

324 THE SHIP LOST BY A FALSE LIGHT.
hard to reach the shore ; but, in a few minutes, struck
by a sea, it fided with water and disappeared.
One man only succeeded in reaching the shore, al
most exliausted with cold and fatigue. He was the
pdot Ventura. Paying no attention to the questions
the people put to him, he unwound a line that was
fastened round his body, and ordered them to hold on
by the end so as to assist in saving the remaining sail
ors on board the schooner. A hundred hands imme
diately seized the rope, and held it with the strength
of a capstan. That done, the pdot gave me the de
tails of the dark and mysterious proceeding which I
had just witnessed. The ship had been lost through
a false light. The beacon-fire that had drawn her
upon a reef of rocks had been dt by the perfidious
hands of one of those wreckers to whom eveiy ship
wreck is a godsend. While telling a story which re
flected so much credit upon himself for his courage,
Ventura's eyes wandered about among the crowd,
seeking to discover the madcious individual who had
caused the loss of the schooner. I could hardly help
thinking on the person whom I had seen in advance
of me before my arrival at Bocca del Rio, and who, on
the first signal of distress given by the ship, had gal
loped off so furiously in the direction of the sea.
" Curse them !" cried Ventura, on finishing his ac
count; "to the devil with those wreckers whom the
north wind brings to the coast to rob the shipwrecked
and pillage the cargo ! Above all, confound the ras
cal who led us ashore to gratify his own infernal cu-
pidity!" While he was speaking, the vibratory motion given
to the cordage announced that the sadors of the ship
were striving to reach the land by its assistance." In

I REMAIN UPON THE BEACH. 325
fact, partly by swimming, partly by wading, the ship
wrecked seamen were not long in reaching the shore,
though not without great difficulty and danger, as the
sea was running higher, and the wind had increased
in fury. The vessel, which was an American schoon
er, had been bound to Alvarado with a rich cargo of
contraband goods, which was destined to become, to
ad appearance, a prey to the waves and the inhabi
tants of the coast ; but, with American prudence, the
lading had been insured for a sum at least equal to
its value, and the captain, knowing it was an affair
between the underwriters and the proprietors of the
ship, interested himself only to procure shelter for him
self and crew. The peasants received both him and
his men with every demonstration of hospitality, in
cited, no doubt, by the consideration of profiting with
out scruple, during the night, by the waifs which the
sea would not be long in throwing up. For my part,
L intrusted my horse to one of the villagers, after
taking the precaution of placing in my belt the pistols
which were in the holsters. My intention was to re
main upon the beach, that I might not lose a single
portion of the strange scene which the organized pil
lage of a wreck promised me.
The women and chddren having been sent away, a
smad number of men only remained upon the shore,
waiting impatiently for the moment when the sea
would give back a part of the cargo that had been in
gulfed in it. Ventura caused ad the lights to be ex
tinguished, and the beach became dark, if not still.
The hoarse noise of the waves was as loud as the
thunder overhead. Sometimes the pale light of the
moon illumined the foaming breakers with which the
sea was covered, and you got a glimpse of the ill-fated
vessel pounding to pieces upon the rocks.

326 THE WRECKERS APPEAR.
" Wherever there is a Tcorpse," said the pilot, point
ing to the schooner, "there you wild find zopilotes*
or sharks. We shall soon see the wretch that caused
the loss of the vessel, and it wid be a shame if we al
low others to share in any thing that the sea may
throw upon our coasts."
No sound, however, save the wild war of the ele
ments was heard, and, while waiting for the wreckers,
I had leisure to examine the situation of the different
places. A few paces from us was the mouth of a
river, whose banks were covered on both sides with
thick brushwood. On our side of the stream stood
the houses of Bocca del Rio, and between it and us
ran a thick range of mangroves, which would, owing
to the darkness, hide us completely from view. Upon
the suggestion of the pilot, we agreed to lie in ambush
at this spot.
We were not long kept in suspense. A body of
men on horseback soon appeared, riding along the
bank of the stream. They stopped upon the beach.
The troop halted a short distance from the mangroves
as if in doubt, and a horseman advanced alone to re
connoitre. " The rascal has gone away to get assistance," said
the pdot to me, in a low voice.
"And some mules, doubtless, to carry away the
spoil," remarked one of the river-men.
In the horseman who had left the main body I was
not long in distinguishing the man whose odd behav
ior had raised my suspicions while on my way from
Vera Cruz to Bocca del Rio. Astonished, no doubt,
to find the place which he had left so full of life some
* Black vultures that abound in the streets of Vera Cruz, which per
form the part of public scavengers by clearing the streets of carrion, &c.

VENTURA' FIRES AT THEIR CHIEF. .'327
time before, quite deserted, the man, still enveloped in
the same blue bayeta, continued sdently to examine
every place, and at last advanced near the mangroves.
He soon, however, returned to his comrades.
The remains of the schooner's cargo, which the tide
was washing on shore, could now be plainly seen.
This was a sure indication that the most valuable
parts of the lading would not be long in being thrown
-up. The wreckers could no longer restrain their im
patience. They stationed themselves in a long line
along the strand, so that nothing could escape them.
The man in the blue cloak, who seemed to be the
chief of these wretches, rode his horse into the waves,
to have a better view of the boxes and bales floating
about. " Will any of you lend me a gun ?" asked the pilot.
One of our party handed him his musket. Ventu
ra seized it. At this moment the dark profile of the
chief wrecker and his horse, relieved by the white foam
of the sea, presented an admirable mark. He fired,
and we saw the cavalier fall from his steed, and dis
appear beneath the waves. The other wretches took
to flight. Immediately after, a man came out of the
water, and walked up the beach, the ball which Ven
tura had intended for him having only struck his horse.
The pilot ran toward the vidain to prevent his escape.
A struggle took place in the darkness. Just when we
had come up to assist the pilot, he was thrown to the
ground by the marauder, whose poniard happily had
glided over his clothes without injuring him. It was
impossible to overtake the fugitive, as he fled as fast
as his legs could carry him, fancying, probably, his op
ponent had been killed. Ventura rose with difficulty.
" I was not able to hold him," said he, passing his

328 ON THE TRACES OF THE MURDERER.
hand over his body ; " but that's nothing. I recog
nized the fedow ; it is Campos ! I am not hurt a bit ;
but it is a wonder that the rascal did not pin me to
the ground with his dagger. I am curious to know,
however, where the deuce the scoundrel got that horse."
" Did you say that the miscreant's name was Cam
pos ?" cried Calros ; " Tereso Campos ?"
" Yes, Tereso Campos."
" That's the man I am seeking," returned the Ja
rocho, grasping my hand.
"Are you in search of him ?" asked the pilot ; " and
why?" " To kid him," answered Calros, quite naively.
"Wed, I warrant you we shad find him to-morrow ;
and if the proprietor of the horse he stole join us, as
he ought to do; the scoundrel wid be very fortunate if
he escape.".
"You hear, Senor Cavalier," said Calros to me;
" you have a like interest with us in avenging your
self upon Campos."
"Why?"
"Because, if I am not mistaken, it is your horse he
has carried off."
I replied with perfect disinterestedness that, with
the exception of the saddle, which was a costly one, I
did not attach the slightest value to the sorry hack of
which he had deprived me. But my objection was
overruled, and I was obliged to yield. The reader
may perhaps remember that I had sent my horse to
the village in the charge of one of the inhabitants, but
the man had tied up the beast to a tree near the beach,
intending to return for it in a short time ; and Cam
pos, meanwhile, had stepped in and appropriated the
animal.

DIVISION OF THE SPOIL. 329
Before advancing up the country in pursuit of the
fugitives, a very delicate business still remained to be
accomplished. This was the equitable division of the
spoils from the wreck, vast quantities of which had
been thrown up by the waves. I was not long in per
ceiving that the wrath of Ventura was chiefly directed
against the marauders, because they were poaching on
his preserves. At first, a few isolated portions of the
rigging had been collected, then casks of wine and
brandy, which were soon fodowed by large quantities
of boxes filled with various articles. As they were
thrown upon the shore, they were seized and piled up
in a dry, sandy hodow tid the distribution was made.
I must say that Ventura conducted himself on this oc
casion with the strictest impartiality ; he reserved
nothing to himself beyond his share but a number of
smad boxes containing a goodly number of yards of
fine Irish linen, as a sort of recompense for the dan
gers he had run. Ad was arranged to the full satis
faction of the river-men, who carried their booty away
with such expedition that, in a short time, not a single
article was to be seen on the sands.
We at last settled what was to be done during the
remaining hours of the night, which was already ap
proaching its meridian. In an hour hence we agreed
to meet on the bank of the river at a place that the
pdot pointed out to us. He, meanwhde, went home
to secure his share of the plunder. The Jarocho had
contemplated with a disdainful indifference the pidage
of the shipwrecked cargo. Before quitting the shore,
he threw a last look upon the sea, which was stid beat
ing with remorseless fury against the timbers of the
id-fated schooner, and then upon the broken barrels
and boxes which the tide was still floating to land.

330 EXCURSION BY WATER.
"Ad that," said he, with a melancholy smde, "is
not to be compared to a fandango under the palm-
trees, nor a look from Saeramenta."
I could not help thinking that the Jarocho was right ;
but it was scarcely the moment to lose one's Self in
amorous reveries. A short walk took us to the vil
lage ; and, after a frugal repast, a necessary precaution
before setting out to encounter new fatigues, we direct
ed our steps in sdence to the place where Ventura was
waiting for us.

CHAPTER III.
Excursion up a River. — Vengeance overtakes Campos, the Murderer.
In a little creek, overshadowed by some gigantic
willows, we found the pilot engaged in putting the oars
on board a smad boat that was moored to the bank.
I was rather averse to a march through the woods, and
it was with a feeling of pleasure that, instead of a pe
destrian excursion, I saw we were to be conveyed to
our place of destination in a boat. I communicated
my satisfaction to the pilot.
"Here," said he, "we only travel in two ways, on
horseback or in a 'dingy.' We leave to the newly-
landed Galicians the resource of striding a path.*
You can row, of course?" addressing himself to Calros.
He answered in the affirmative, and we took our
places in the skiff. As I was only a passenger, I
stretched myself on my cloak at the bottom of the •
boat to shelter myself from the wind. Though we
were at a considerable distance from the mouth of the
* Ensillar la vcreda.

NIGHT UPON A PICTURESQUE RIVER 331
stream, the river was swoden with the tide, and the
water lapped the sides of the boat with great fury.
We set out, and, impelled by two pairs of strong arms,
soon began to glide rapidly along the surface of the
dark water. The usual imposing stillness of Ameri
can forests was on the banks. At a distance you
heard the dull, heavy roar of the wind raging among
the trees. The banks of the river were very undulat
ing. Sometimes its bed widened considerably, and
we then kept in the centre of the stream. At other
times the water flowed between high, precipitous rocks,
under a thick canopy of mahogany and cedar trees,
from whose branches long-trailing parasitical plants
hung over our heads. Charmed with the beauty of
the river, I forgot completely the object of our journey.
I was soon reminded of it, however, by the pilot.
"Every one," said he, "in this world has his ene
mies. For my part, I know more than one individu
al, and Campos among others, who would be very glad
to know that at this late hour of the night, in the midst
of these solitudes, which alcalde has never visited, they
could meet Sinforoso Ventura unarmed and defense
less." " Have we no arms ?" Calros inquired. "Are the
pistols of my friend here, my machete, and your mus
ket, to be reckoned as nothing ?"
"In an open country such arms would be of the
greatest service ; here they are of no use. A person
hidden in any of the trees which overhang the stream
could pick out any of the three he chose, and send a
ball through his head ; or, by throwing the trunk of a
tree across the river, might capsize our boat, if he did
not smash it to pieces. What do you think of that?"
' ' I dare say you're right, " an swered Calros. ' ' Luck-

332 OUR CRITICAL SITUATION.
ily, nobody is to know that you are to be pulling up
the river to-night."
"lam not so sure of that," said the pilot ; " there
are spies and traitors every where. If any of the ma
rauders we put to flight this evening has the slightest
inkling of our plans, be sure that his comrades will be
apprised of it time enough to meet us at a part of the
river I know. We have already rowed two hours," he
added, shaking his head, " and the place is not far off.
You now know what we have to fear. Consider, there
fore, whether we shad push on, or land, and wait till
daylight." " I can not lose a minute," returned the Jarocho,
coldly. "If we pud well, we shall reach the vidage
where Campos lives in an hour."
" It is quite the same to me," Ventura replied. " Let
us proceed."
A dead silence succeeded these words. Knowing
now the dangers we had to run, I went and seated my
self in the bow, to try to make out, if it were possible,
the ambuscades that threatened us ; but the darkness
was so great that I could discover nothing. The leafy
vault under which we moved threw a thick shadow
over the bed of the river ; at times, however, a gust
of wind shook into the water, like a shower of golden
rain, large cucuyos, which fell from the trees above us.
Not a single star was to be seen through the inter
stices of the foliage. A quarter of an hour had now
elapsed without in the least justifying the suspicions
of the pilot. The Jarocho lay on his oars to take
breath, and the boat, moved by the current, turned
broadside on to the stream.
" Keep her head to the stream," cried the pdot,
sharply. " Even supposing that we have no ambus-

A DANGEROUS PASS. 333
cades to fear, the wind may, perhaps, have uprooted
some dead tree, and should it happen to hit the side
of our boat, it would cant over to a dead certainty ;
but if we are struck on the bow, it may do us no harm.
The tide runs up as far as this, and sharks not uncom
monly come up with it."
This last observation disclosed another danger
which I had not suspected; and, in the presence of
the increasing perds of this nocturnal expedition, I
thought, with some bitterness, on the comfortable far-
niente and refreshing sleep I should have enjoyed had
I been in my hotel at Vera Cruz.
Calros did not require a second warning, but re
sumed his oar with new vigor. We soon arrived at a
place where a high rock on each side of the stream ap
proached each other, narrowing very considerably the
bed of the river. About a dozen paces farther up, the
passage became so contracted that both oars could not
be worked, and it was only by the assistance of a boat-
hook that the pilot, by fixing it among the lianas,
could pull us up against the force of the current. The
river widened considerably at the head of this narrow
pass, and allowed us again to ply our oars ; but as
the stream grew broader, the banks rose in proportion.
On the right and left, high rocks curved gently in
ward, and then ran sheer down into the water, like the
arch of a bridge broken at the key-stone. Under this
vault every stroke produced an echo. We advanced
by chance, and the darkness was so intense that we
did not know but what every pud would send us up
against the wall of rock on either side.
" One would need to have the eyes of a tiger-cat to
see in this place," cried the pilot.
" Have we far to go now ?" asked Calros.

334 THE BOAT SUDDENLY STOPS.
"A few vigorous strokes wid send us there," an
swered Ventura; "but the most embarrassing thing-
is to discover the entrance to the narrow reach that
runs up from this basin. This reach is as narrow as
the one we have just left."
"Put out the boat-hook to feel if we are not run
ning against the rocks."
I did what he ordered me. The boat was still in
the middle of the stream. The boat-hook, though
stretched out as far as I could reach, struck against
nothing. "All right," I cried. "I can touch the rocks on
neither side."
The rowers again plied their oars, and the light skiff
flew up the river. All at once the boat-hook, which I
was holding at right angles to the boat, hit against a
rock, and bounced out of my hands. The shock over
set me completely. A cracking of broken branches
was heard. The skiff suddenly stopped.
" What's this ?" cried the pilot, who had run to the
bow, and was fumbling with his hands among a tan
gled mass of lianas and branches. "Demonio! the
rascals have pitched a dead tree into the river higher
up, and the current has carried it down here. We
can advance no farther. How shad we get out o'f this
mess ? One or two large stones, hurled from the top
of these rocks, might crush us to pieces before we could
clear the passage."
This took us completely aback, and not another
word was said. The only plan seemed to be to re
turn to the reach we had just left ; but the boat was
so strongly fixed among the branches of the fallen tree
that it could not be disengaged. Some moments
passed in a- fruitless endeavor to overcome this obsta-

WHO GOES THERE?  THE PILOT DISAPPEARS. 335
cle. Suddenly a voice caded out right above us,
"Who is there?"
" Gente de paz," I replied, prompted by the pdot.
"That's not enough. There are three of you, and
I must hear three voices."
" Caramba ! wed," cried the Jarocho. " Tell Cam
pos that I am here — I, Calros Romero, of Manantial."
"And ask him also,"' added the pilot, haughtdy,
"if he remembers the name of Sinforoso Ventura, of
Bocca del Rio."
A shrill whistle was heard in the woods. It was
repeated behind us, showing that both banks were
guarded. Two or three seconds elapsed, that seemed
as long as so many years. Shadowy forms appeared
on the rocks above our heads, threatening cries were
heard, and quivering lights danced upon the water.
The pdot was not long in firing upon the scoundrels :
but they had the advantage in point of position, and
wielded arms more terrible than ours. The flash of
the gun lighted up ad surrounding objects. Mean
while an enormous stone, which they had succeeded
in moving to the edge of the rocks, fed close to the
boat, and splashed us with water from head to foot.
The pdot cried out as if he had been hurt. We felt
the boat lurch under us heavily, and then, torn from
the rude embrace of the branches, drift rapidly down
the stream. When I opened my eyes, for we had
been both blinded by the spray, Ventura had disap
peared. I caded aloud several times. There was no
reply. "'Tis all over with him!" cried Calros. "He is
at the bottom of the river. We must see to ourselves
now." A speedy retreat was the only chance of safety left

336 VENTURA REAPPEARS.
us. The Jarocho seized the oars and began rowing
vigorously. Not a sound was heard but the dip of
the oar in the water. Had our enemies retreated, or
were they waiting for us at the narrow reach we must
unavoidably pass ? We could not escape the fate that
seemed to be awaiting us. We were soon in the dan
gerous pass. The trunk of a guaiacum or cedar hang
ing over the water — the noise of the wind in their
branches — an iguana leaving its bed of dry leaves — a
squirrel frightened by the working of the oars — the
slightest sound, or the least object that we saw, all
kept our minds on the rack, and our hands on our
arms. We stopped at short intervals, after which
Calros resumed his oars with new ardor.
We reached at last a spot where the vegetation was
not so abundant, and one of the banks was destitute
of wood. We landed there. A rapid survey con
vinced us that this was not the place for an ambus
cade. We decided to remain a short time to rest our
selves, and we should afterward consider whether to
continue our journey by land or water. The sun was
just beginning to make his appearance. What was
our surprise, when, as we were about to throw our
selves upon the ground, we heard a voice calling to
us ! The voice was that of our late companion Ven
tura. We thought at first that we were laboring un
der a haducination ; but in a short time we could no
longer doubt about the resurrection of our brave friend,
who appeared on the opposite bank, waving his hand
to invite us to carry him across. To cross the stream
was with Calros the work of an instant.
"And by what miracle are you stid in this world ?"
I asked of Ventura. " The cry of agony you uttered
still rings in my ears."

HOW THE PILOT ESCAPED. 337
" Tliat cry saved my life. As soon as I felt that
we ran the risk of getting crushed to pieces without
being able to defend ourselves, I jumped among the
branches that stopped our passage, and, on seeing the
immense stone which they had pushed into the river,
I raised a great shriek. The rascals, fancying from
the cry that I was mortady wounded, decamped as
quickly as they could. Once out of the water, I fol
lowed the course of the river, knowing that you could
not be far off. I was right, as you see. We shall
now resume our journey. As for you, Sefior Calros,
who are so impatient to revenge yourself upon Cam
pos, I have hit on a more expeditious plan than the
one we are now fodowing. I have some friends in
the village in which Campos lives. We shad go and
visit them ; and in two hours all your wishes shall be
fully satisfied."
The arrival of the pilot had brought back to Cal
ros's mind all that boiling impatience which his ex
haustion of body had alone kept under. He would
not listen to a halt. A short discussion then arose
as to whether we should continue our journey by land
or water. Ventura was of opinion that we ought still
to make use of the boat and reascend the river, as we
should probably fall in with no more enemies, and the
force of the current had very likely removed all ob
stacles to our passage. We therefore took our places
in the skiff without loss of time, Calros and Ventura
pulling, and I between the two rowers, glad at finding
that, from my inexperience in rowing, I should not be
expected to give any assistance, and would be at full
liberty to admire the glorious landscape that unfolded
itself before our eyes, bathed in the first light of dawn.
The river, so dark and sombre the night before,
P

338 CALROS FINDS A RIVAL IN JULIAN.
seemed now to smile in the sunlight. Light vapors
arose from the surface of the water, drawn up by the
heat, which had taken the place of the coolness of the
evening before. Numerous aquatic plants covered its
surface, and the furrow which our boat cut in passing
through them soon closed up again, leaving not a trace
of our presence. No sound was heard save the work
ing of the oars in the row-locks, and a green wood
pecker tapping with long, regular strokes the trunk of
a dead tree.
My companions were quite indifferent to the glori
ous beauty of this solitude. I must confess, however,
that I adowed myself to be distracted from the con
templation of these charms to listen to the conversa
tion of the two men, which was becoming more and
more animated. Besides relating the grievances which
he had endured from Campos, the pilot, in the course
of his narrative, caused a chord to vibrate in the heart
of the chivalrous lover of Dona Saeramenta. Calros
was painfully surprised on learning that Julian, his
antagonist in the fandango at Manantial, was his rival.
Julian, being the pilot's friend, had no "secrets from
him. His passion for Saeramenta dated from the time
when the parents of the young girl lived in another
village called Medellin, before they had come to reside
at Manantial. After the departure of Saeramenta for
Manantial, Julian had not lost all hope of seeing her
again, and of winning her affections. Old Josefa, the
woman whose son Campos had killed, and who was
seeking every where an avenger for her son's murder,
had been often invited from Manantial to Medellin for
the purpose of exercising the black art, in which she
was considered an adept. It was through her that
Julian received news of Saeramenta, and the old crone

CALROS IS DECEIVED. o^9
had even promised to exert her influence with the girl
in his favor, if he succeeded in putting her on the
traces of her son's murderer. This condition Julian
had been able to fulfill through the friendship of the
pdot, as the latter, by his ancient relations with Cam
pos, was well aware of all this wretch's crimes. Julian
had thus informed her that Campos was her son's mur
derer, and that the pilot Ventura would lend her a hand
in securing him. Josefa had, on her side, kept her
word. She had used ad her influence with Saera
menta in Julian's favor, "and was successful," said the
pilot, with an arch smile, " since the amorous Jarocho
had been invited to attend the fete of Manantial by
the young girl herself, to challenge, in her honor, the
bravest champion in the village." The pilot did not
know that the old crone Josefa, in her eagerness to
have her son avenged, had likewise excited the pas
sion of Calros, in order that she might make him more
eager in the search after Campos. Calros and I could
alone complete the revelations of Ventura. I did not
say a single word, however, because I feared to excite
the Jarocho's jealousy still more by untimely consola
tion, and because I knew that his soul was torn by
violent and contending emotions. The pilot, seeing
us both sunk in thought, turned to Calros and said,
"Now, when I think of it, it was you that chal
lenged my friend Julian. It was you that was victor
in the combat held in honor of the fair Saeramenta.
Well, shall I tell you ? Julian confessed to me that,
even after his defeat, he had not entirely lost hope ; so
much so that he is talking about quitting Medellin,
and you will perhaps see him some of these days qui
etly settled in Manantial."
"Are you sure of what you say?" asked Calros, in
an altered tone.

340 MY host's despair.
" Has my good friend Julian ever deceived me ?"
answered the pilot. " Trust me, he is not a man that
is under the influence of illusions. If he never come
to Manantial, it is because he will have the best of
reasons for staying away."
This was rather much, and Calros asked him no
more questions. With eyes fixed mechanically on the
water around him, the poor fellow plied his oar with a
kind of feverish energy. His body was with us, but
his mind had fled away to the woods of Manantial.
We had now gone as far as we could on the river,
which had now dribbled down to a mere streamlet,
flowing between low banks. Upon one side fields of
green sugar-cane, waving in the wind, stretched to the
foot of a chain of hills which rose at a short distance
from the stream.
" We must land here," cried the pilot ; " the village
is behind these hills."

CHAPTER IV.
The Duel. — Awful Death of the Murderer.
We leaped ashore. The pilot tied the " dingy" to
the bank, and led the advance. We soon reached the
vdlage. All was quiet there. The greater part of
the inhabitants were stid in their hammocks under the
verandas of their cabins, but they saluted the pilot as
he approached with the greeting of an old acquaintance.
After replying briefly to the questions that were put
to him, Ventura asked where Campos was. He point
ed to Calros, and explained why he had come thither.
This news was welcomed with enthusiasm by the idle

CAMPOS THE MURDERER. 341
and pugnacious peasants ; but in a diversion in which
there was so much interest, the greatest seeresy must
be employed, and every one rivaled his neighbor in
discretion. The hut of Campos was noiselessly ap
proached, and he was found inside stretched in his
hammock. I could not help admiring the rare com
mand of countenance which this man showed when ho
saw the pilot, whom he believed to be lying at that
moment at the bottom of the neighboring river. He
rose quietly, looked at us with a disdainful curiosity,
and did not appear to be moved at seeing Calros.
" Who put you on my traces ?" he asked of the Ja
rocho. " Tia Josefa," was the reply. " It was by her or
der I came here from Manantial."
"A word is enough to the wise," answered Campos.
"It is well ; I am ready for you."
The conditions of the duel were immediately dis
cussed, with a calmness and dignity which I did not
expect in two such adversaries. Neither Calros nor
the pilot deigned to make the slightest adusion to the
events of last night. It was a duel to the death which
was to be fought, and at such a solemn moment all re
crimination was reckoned sidy and trifling. The place
of meeting was mutually agreed on ; and Campos left
to procure his seconds, while we directed our steps
thither. I walked behind Calros, silent and sorrowful.
" Whatever happen," said he to me, in a low voice,
" whether I fad or remain alive, in any case, you wid
have no message to deliver to her from me."
After walking about half an hour on a footpath that
ran at right angles with the river, we arrived at the
edge of one of those marshy ponds so common in cer
tain parts of Mexico. On one side was a clump of

342 THE COMBAT BEGINS.  CAMPOS BURIED , ALIVE.
trees, and on the other rose lofty hillocks of fine mov
ing sand, which was gradually filling up the lagoon by
its ceaseless shifting. We there waited the arrival
of Campos and his seconds. Calros strode over the
ground, a prey to feverish anxiety, for the Jarocho was
not one of those lackadaisical lovers who rush out of
life the first check they receive. The ground meas
ured, and the situation chosen, the antagonists stood
face to face. The signal was given ; and I heard, with
a beating heart, the clash of the two swords. I had
turned my head away ; but, hearing a cry of rage, I
was drawn irresistibly to cast a look upon the com
batants. A man had run to the top of one of the sand
hills ; he brandished the stump of a machete, and blood
was trickling down his side : this was Campos. His
flight had been so sudden and rapid that his adversa
ry was still immovable in his place. One of his sec
onds approached to hand him a sword in the place of
the one that had been broken, but he came too late.
Exhausted by the effort he had made in clambering up
the hill, Campos staggered and fell upon the sand.
For a moment we thought he would have kept himself
on the mound, but the movable substance rolled away
from beneath him, and the unhappy wretch, after strug
gling fearfully for a few moments, rolled down into the
marsh, and was ingulfed alive in an avalanche of sand.
Nothing now remained but to secure the flight of
Calros. We left in ad haste the scene of action, and
arrived at the boat before the alcalde of the village had
detached a single alguazil in pursuit. Aided by the
current, the light skiff glided like an arrow down the
stream, the trees and rocks seeming to fly behind us.
After a two hours' row, we reached the mouth of the
river, and landed under the widows which overshadow-

CALROS AND I PARTr 343
ed the pilot's abode. We required his services no far
ther, and therefore bade him adieu. Before parting,
he tried to induce Calros to stay with him.
" I was looking out for a brave and resolute fedow
to make a man of him like myself. I have found one
in you. The sea-shore is preferable to the woods. It
is to enrich the dweller on the coast that the norther
blows three months every year. Remain with me ;
you wid be rich in that time."
But a complete dejection now possessed the mind
of the Jarocho ; he shook his head mooddy in token
of refusal." Well, I am sorry for it," said the pdot. " I shall
always miss a comrade who can handle an oar as wed
as a machete. We two could have done a good stroke
of business together. Good-by, then ; every one must
follow his destiny."
We parted, and I accompanied Calros to the hut
where he had left his horse. Some wood-cutters, dur
ing my absence, had found my hack a short way off
in the woods.
' ' I must bid you farewed here, "said Calros. ' ' You
will soon see your native land, and I — "
He left the sentence unfinished ; I finished it in
thought, and pressed him to return to Manantial. I
attempted also, but in vain, to prove to Cahos that his
despair was at least premature.
"The words of the pilot," he replied, "agree but
too wed with a voice that has been incessantly caldng
to me, ' Saeramenta never loved you.' ''
"But," I answered, "if you intend to bid an eter
nal farewell to your mother and the vdlage in which
Saeramenta lives, why did you refuse the offer of the
pdot ? Your life would then have some definite aim."

344 I BID ADIEU .TO MEXICO.
"That's of no consequence. The Jarocho is born
to live free and independent. A bamboo hut, the
woods and the river, a gun and nets, are ad that is
necessary for him, and these I shall find every where.
Farewed, senor ; don't ted any body that you saw me
weep like a woman."
Pulhng his hat over his eyes, Calros gave the spur
to his horse. It was not without a lively sympathy
that I followed with my eye the retiring figure of one
whose exalted passion and adventurous humor had
shown the character of the Jarocho in the most pleas
ing light. I had to gain Vera Cruz on foot this time,
as my horse had lost both saddle and bridle. I drag
ged him along, however, with a halter behind me. Op
pressed by heat and thirst, I stopped at a hut by the
way-side, and the host accepted of the poor brute in
compensation for the refreshment with which he had
supplied me.
Two days afterward I embarked on board the good
ship Congress for the United States. I could not
leave Mexico without regret, for the society to be found
in that country had for me all the attraction of a ro
mance, with every particular of which I had a strong
desire to become acquainted.

THE END.

A LIST OF NEW BOOKS,
PUBLISHED BY
HARPER &c BROTHERS.

-~r+*~r /¦ f- S< ^f-sr*.

Squier's Central America.
Notes on Central America ; particularly the States of Honduras
and San Salvador: their Geography, Topography, Climate, Pop
ulation, Resources, Productions, <tc, &c, and the proposed In-
teroeeanie Railway. By E. G. Squiee, formerly Ghargfi d'Af-
faires of the United States to the Republics of Central America.
With Original Maps aud Illustrations. 8vo, Muslin, §2 00.
Napoleon at St. Helena ;
Or, Interesting Anecdotes and Remarkable Conversations of the
Emperor during the Five and a Half Years of his Captivity.
Collected from the Memorials of Las Casas, O'Meara, Montholon,
Antommarchi, and others. By John S. C. Abbott. With Illus
trations. 8vo, Muslin, *2 60.
Helps's Spanish Conquest.
The Spanish Conquest in America, and its Relation to the His
tory of Slavery, and to the Government of Colonies. By Akthue
Helps. Large 12mo, Muslin. (In press.)
Loomis's Arithmetic.
A Treatise on Arithmetic, Theoretical and Practical. By Elias
Loosris, LL.D. 12mo, Sheep.
Barton's Grammar.
An Outline of the General Principles of Grammar. With a Brief
Exposition of the Chief Idiomatic Peculiarities of the English
Language. To which Questions have been added. Edited and
Enlarged by the Rev. J. Geaeff Bakton, A.M., Professor of the
English Language and Literature in the New York Free Acad
emy. 16mo, Muslin, 37 £ cents.
Ewbank's Brazil.
Life in Brazil ; or, a Journal of a Visit to the Land of the Cocoa
and the Palm. With an Appendix, containing Illustrations of
Ancient South American Arts, in Recently Discovered Imple
ments and Products of Domestic Industry, and Works in Stone,
Pottery, Gold, Silver, Bronze, &a. By Thomas Ewbank. With
over 100 Illustrations. 8vo, Muslin. S2 00.

NEW BOOKS PUBLISHED BY HARl'ER. AND BliOTHKUS.
Meiico and its Religion ;
Or, Incidents of Travel in that Country during Parts of the Years
1851-52-53-54, -with Historical Notices of Events connected with
Places Visited. By Robeet A Wilson. With Illustrations.
12mo, Muslin, $1 00.
Parisian Sights
and French Principles, seen through American Spectacles. By
James Jackson Jarves. Second Series. With Illustrations.
12mo, Muslin, §1 00.

Italian Sights.

and Papal Principles, seen through American Spectacles. By
James Jackson Jaeves. With Illustrations. 12mo, Muslin, $1 00.
Art-Hints. Architecture, Sculpture, and Painting. By James Jackson Jaeves.
12mo, Muslin, SI 25.
Christian Theism :
The Testimony of Reason and Revelation to the Existence of the
Supreme Being. By Robeet Anchoe Thompson, M.A. (The First
Burnett Prize of $9000 was awarded to this Treatise.) 12mo,
Muslin, SI 25.
A Child's History of the United States.
By John Bonner. 2 vols. 16mo, Muslin, $1 00. (Uniform with
Dickens's " Child's History of England.)

Lily.

A NoveL By the Author of " The Busy Moments of an Idle
Woman." 12mo, Muslin, $1 00.
James's Old Dominion.
The Old Dominion ; or, the Southampton Massacre. By G. P.
R. James, Esq. 8vo, Paper, 50 cents.
Miss Bunkley's Book.
The Testimony of an Escaped Novice from the Sisterhood of St.
Joseph, Emmettsburg, Maryland, the Mother-House of the Sisters
of Charity in the United States. By Josephine M. Bunklet.
12mo, Muslin, $1 00.
Learning to Talk ;
Or, Entertaining and Instructive Lessons in the Use of Language.
By Jacob Abbott. Illustrated with 1*70 Engravings. Small 4to,
Muslin, 50 cents.

HARPER'S NEW CLASSICAL LIBRARY.
Reprinted from " Bohn's Classical Library." Comprising Literal
Translations of the principal Greek and Latin Authors.
The works which it is proposed to issue are reprint's from " Bohn's
Classical Library," brought out uniform with the English edition,
and comprising faithful translations of the principal Greek and
Latin classics.
Each work will be given without abridgment, and will include
short suggestive notes, adapted to the comprehension as well as
the actual wants of the student. Copious and accurate indexes
will be appended to every translation. No version will be adopted
without ample and thorough revision, correcting its errors by the
lights of modern research, and placing it on a level with the pres
eut improved state of philological learning.
The following Volumes will be succeeded by others as fast as
they can be got ready. *

C^SAR, Complete, with the Alexan
drian, African, and Spanish Wars, lit
erally translated. With Notes, and a
very copious Index. 12mo, Muslin,
75 cents.
DAVIDSONS VIRGIL. Revised by
T. A. Buckley. 12mo, Muslin, 75
cents.
SMART'S HORACE. Revised by T.
A. Buckley. 12mo, Muslin, 75 cents.
WATSON'S SALLUST, FLORUS,
and VELLEIUS PATERCULUS.
12mo, Muslin, 75 cents.
EDMONDS CICERO. Cicero's Of
fices, Old Age, Friendship, Scipio's
Dream, Paradoxes, <fec. 12mo, Mus
lin, 75 cents.
YONGE'S CICERO. The Orations
contained in the Text-Books used in
the Schools and Colleges of America.
12mo, Muslin, 75 cents.

WATSON'S XENOPHON. The An
abasis and Memorabilia of Socrates.
With a Geographical Commentary by
W. F. Ainsworth, Esq. 12mo, Mus
lin, 75 cents.
BUCKLEY'S HOMERS ILIAD.
ISiiio, Muslin, 75 cents.
DALE'S THUCYDIDES. 12mo,Mus-
lin,75 cents. (Bohn's Edition, 2 vols.
$1 75.
CARY'S HERODOTUS. Complete
in one Volume. With Index. 12mo,
Muslin, 75 cents.
SOPHOCLES. The Oxford Transla
tion, revised by Buckley. 12mo,
Muslin, 75 cents.
/ESCHYLUS. By an Oxonian. Re
vised by B uckle y. 12mo, Muslin, 75
cents. With an Appendix, containing
all of Hermann's Emendations, trans
lated and explained by Bubges. (Not
contained in Bohn's Volume.) 12mo,
Muslin.

MAYHEW'S WONDERS OF SCIENCE. The Wonders of Science; or,
Young Humphry Davy (the Cornish Apothecary's Boy, who taught himself
Natural Ph losophy, and eventually became President of the Royal Society).
The Life of a Wonderful Boy written for Boys. By Henhy Mayhew, Au
thor of " The Peasant-Boy Philosopher." 16mo, Muslin.

LOSSING'S PICTORIAL FIELD-BOOK
Of the Revolution; or, Illustrations, by Pen and Pencil, of the His
tory, Biography, Scenery, Relics, and Traditions of the "War
for Independence. 2 vols. Royal 8vo, Muslin, §8 00; Sheep, .
$9 00; Half Calf, $10 00; Full Morocco, 815 00.
A new and carefully revised edition of this magnificent work is just completed
in two imperial octavo volumes of equal size, containing 1500 pages and 1 100 en
gravings. As the plan, scope, and beauty of the work were originally developed,
eminent literary men, and the leading presses of the United States and Great
Britain, pronounced it one of the most valuable historical productions ever issued.
The preparation of this work occupied the author more than four years, during
which he traveled nearly ten thousand miles in order to visit the prominent scenes
of revolutionary history, gather up local traditions, and explore records and his
tories. In the use of his pencil he was governed by the determination to withhold
nothing of importance or interest. Being himself both artist and writer, he has
been able to combine the materials he had collected in both departments into a
work possessing perfect unity of purpose and execution.
The object of the author in arranging his plan was to reproduce the history of
the American Revolution in such an attractive manner, as to entice the youth of
his country to read the wonderful story, study its philosophy and teachings, and
to become familiar with the founders of our Republic and the value of their labors.
In this he has been eminently successful ; for the young read the pages of the
*' Field- Book" with the same avidity as those of a romance ; while the abundant
stores of information, and the careful manner in which it has been arranged and
set forth, render it no less attractive to the general reader and the ripe scholar of
more mature years.
Explanatory notes are profusely given upon every page in the volume, and also
a brief biographical sketch of every man distinguished in the events of the Revo
lution, the history of whose life is known.
A Supplement of forty pages contains a history of the Naval Operations of the
Revolution; of the Diplomacy; of the Confederation and Federal Constitution;
the Prisons and Prison Ships of Xew York; Lives of the Signers of the Declara
tion of Independence, and other matters of curious interest to the historical student.
A new and very elaborate analytical index has been prepared, to which we call
special attention. It embraces eighty-five closely printed pages, and possesses
rare value for every student of our revolutionary history. It is in itself a com
plete synopsis of the history and biography of that period, and will be found ex
ceedingly useful for referee ce -by every reader.
As a whole, the work contains all the essential facts of the early history of our
Republic, which are scattered through scores of volumes often inaccessible to the
great mass of readers. The illustrations make the whole subject of the American
Revolution so clear to the reader that, on rising from its perusal, he feels thorough
ly acquainted, not only with the history, but with every important locality made
memorable by the events of the war for Independence, and it forms a complete
Guide-Book to the tourist seeking for fields consecrated by patriotism, which lie
scattered over our broad land. Nothing has been spared to make it complete, re.
liable, and eminently useful to all classes of citizens. Upward of THIRTY-FIVE
THOUSAND DOLLARS were expended in the publication of the first edition.
The exquisite wood-cuts, engraved under the immediate supervision of the author,
from his own drawings, in the highest style of the art, required the greatest care
in printing. To this end the efforts of the publishers have been directed, and we
take great pleasure in presenting these volumes as the best specimen of typogra
phy ever issued from the American press.
The publication of the work having been commenced in numbers before its
preparation was completed, the volumes of the first ed'.tlon were made quite un
equal in size. That defect has been remedied, and the work is now presented in
two volumes of equal size, containing about 7£n pases each.

WOMAN S RECORD ;
Or, Sketches of all Distinguished Women from the Creation to the
Present Time. Arranged in Four Eras. "With Selections from
Female Writers of each Era. By Mrs. Sarah Josepha Hale.
Illustrated with 230 engraved Portraits. Second Edition, re
vised and enlarged. Royal 8vo, Muslin, $3 60 ; Sheep, §-t 00 ;
Half Calf, *4 25.
" Many years have been devoted to the preparation of this comprehensive work,
which contains complete and accurate sketches of the most distinguished women
in all ages, and, in extent and thoroughness, far surpasses every previous bio
graphical collection with a similar aim. Mrs. Hale has ransacked the treasures
of history for information in regard to the eminent women whom it commemor
ates ; few, if any, important names are omitted in"her volumes, while the living
celebrities of the day are portrayed with justness and delicacy. The picture of
woman's life, as it has been developed from the times of the earliest traditions to
the present date, is here displayed in vivid and impressive colors, and with a
living sympathy which could only flow from a feminine pen. A judicious selec.
tion from the writings of women who have obtained distinction in the walks of
literature is presented, affording an opportunity for comparing the noblest produc
tions of the female mind, and embracing many exquisite gems of fancy and feel
ing. The biographies are illustrated by a series of highly -finished engravings,
which form a gallery of portraits of curious interest to the amateur, as well as of
great historical value.
This massive volume furnishes an historical portrait gallery, in which each age
of this world had its appropriate representatives. Mrs. Hale has succeeded ad
mirably in her biographical sketches. — Philadelphia Presbyterian.
" Woman's Record" is, indeed, a noble study and noble history. The sketches
are all carefully and even elegantly written. — Philadelphia Evening Bulletin.
What lady, who takes a pride in her sex, would not desire to have this volume
on her centre-table 1 and what husband, lover, or brother would leave such a wish
ungratified. — Washington Republic.
This superb monument of Mrs. Hale's indefatigable devotion to her sex is illus
trated by 230 portraits, engraved m that style of excellence that has deservedly
placed Lossing at the head of his profession. — Philadelphia Saturday Courier.
We are pleased with the plan of the " Record," and with the manner in which
that plan is carried into execution. The book is a valuable and permanent con
tribution to literature. — New Orleans Baptist Chronicle.
This work merits the warmest commendation. — Sun.
This is a large and beautiful book, and covers the ground marked out by the title
more fully and satisfactorily than any other work extant. It is a most valuable
work. — Southern Ladies'1 Companion.
Here we have placed before us a book that would do credit to any author or
compiler that ever lived, and, to the astonishment of some, produced by the head^
heart, and hand of a woman. — X. Y Daily Times.
This is a very curious and very interesting wrork — a Biographical Dictionary of
all Distinguished Females — a work, we believe, quite unique in the history of
literature. We have only to say that the work will be found both instructive,
amusing, and generally impartial. — London Ladies^ Messenger.
The comprehensiveness of the work renders it a valuable addition to the library,
— London Ladies'1 Companion.
A Female Biographical Dictionary, which this volume really is, will often be
consulted as an authority ¦ and the great extent of Mrs. Hale's information as to
the distinguished women of modern times, supplies us with a number of facts
which we knew not where to procure elsewhere. It is clearly and simply written.
—Land'* Gar<iian

HARPER'S NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE.
Each Number of the Magazine will contain 144 octavo pages, in double col
umns, each year thus comprising nearly two thousand pages of the choicest Mis
cellaneous Literature of the day. Every number will contain numerous Pictorial
Illustrations, accurate Plates of the Fashions, a copious Chronicle of Current
Events, and impartial Notices of the important Books of the Month. The Vol
umes commence with the Numbers for June and December ; but Subscriptions
may commence with any number.
Terms. — The Magazine may be obtained of Booksellers, Periodical Agents, or
from the Publishers, at Three Dollars a year, or Twenty-five Cents a
Number. The Semi-Annual Volumes, as completed, neatly bound in Cloth, are
sold at Two Dollars each, and Muslin Covers are furnished to those who wish to
have their back Numbers uniformly bound, at Twenty-five Cents each, Eleven
Volumes are now ready, bound.
The Publishers will supply Specimen Numbers gratuitously to Agents and
Postmasters, and will make liberal arrangements with them for circulating the
Magazine. They will also supply Clubs, of two persons at Five Dollars a year,
or five persons at Ten Dollars. Clergymen supplied at Two Dollars a year.
Numbers from the commencement can now be supplied.
The Magazine weighs over seven and not over eight ounces. The Postage upon
each Number, which must be paid quarterly in advance, is Three Cents.
The Publishers would give notice that that they have no Agents
for whose contracts they are responsible. Those ordering the Mag
azine from Agents or Dealers must look to them for the supply of the
Work. Each month it gladdens us and our household, to say nothing of the neighbors
who enjoy it with us. Twenty-five cents buys it— the cheapest, richest, and most
lasting luxury for the money that we know. Three dollars secures it for one
\ -ar : and what three dollars ever went so far ? Put the same amount in clothes,
eating, drinking, furniture, and how much of a substantial thing is obtained ? If
uleas, facts, and sentiments, have a monetary value — above all, if the humor that
n-freshes, the pleasantries that bring _a gentle smile, and brighten the passage of
a truth to your brain, and the happy combination of the real and the imaginative,
without which no one can live a life above the animal, are to be put in the scale
opposite to dollars and cents, then you may be certain, that if Harper were three
or four times as dear, it would amply repay its price. It is a Magazine proper,
with the idea and purpose of a Magazine — not a book, not a scientific periodical,
nor yet a supplier of light gossip and chatty anecdotes — but a Magazine that takes
every form of interesting, dignified, and attractive literature in its grasp.— South-
irn Times.
Its success was rapid, and has continued till the monthly issue has reached the
unprecedented number of 150,000. -The volumes bound constitute of themselves
n library of miscellaneous reading, such as can not be found in the same compass
1:1 any other publication that has come under our notice. The contents of the
Magazine are as "various as the mind of man." In the immense amount of mat-
ti'T which it contains, it would be strange, indeed, if there was not something to
gratify every taste. The articles illustrating the natural history and resources
of our country are enough to entitle the Magazine to a place in every family where
there are children to be taught to love their native land. The Editor's Table pre
sents every month an elaborately prepared essay on some topic intimately con
nected with our politics, our morals, or our patriotism, while the Easy Chair and
the Drawer of the same responsible personage— doubtless a plural unit— display
gems of wit, humor, and fancy, in any quantity to suit the temper of any reader-
-"Boston Courier

HARPER'S STORY BOOKS.
A Monthly Series op Narratives, Biographies, and Tales, for the
Instruction and Entertainment of the Young. By Jacob Ab
bott. Embellished with numerous and beautiful Engravings.
Terms. — Each Number of " Harper's Story Books" will contain
160 pages in small quarto form, very beautifully illustrated, and
printed on superfine calendered paper.
The Series may be obtained of Booksellers, Periodical Agents.
and Postmasters, or from the Publishers, at Three Dollars a year,
or Twenty-five Cents a Number in Paper, or Forty Cents a Num
ber bound in Cloth gilt. Subscriptions may commence with any
Number. The Postage upon "Harper's Story Books," which must
be paid quarterly. in advance, is Two Cents. "Harper's Magazine"
and " Harper's Story Books" will be sent to one Address, for one
year, for Five Dollars.
The Quarterly Volumes, as completed, neatly bound in Cloth gilt.
are sold at One Dollar each, and Muslin Covers are furnished to
those who wish to have their back Numbers uniformly bound, at
Twenty-five Cents each.
Vol. I. Contains the first three Numbers, "Bruno," "Willie,"
and "Strait Gate." — Vol. II. "The Little Louvre," "Prank," and
"Emma." — Vol. III. "Virginia," "Timboo and Joliba," and "Tim-
boo and Fanny." — Vol. IV. "The Harper Establishment," "Frank
lin," and "The Studio."
They are the best children's books ever published. They wisely avoid the in
troduction or discussion of religious topics, yet are such as Christian parents
may unhesitatingly place in their children's hands. The price is marvelously
low. Twenty-five cents a number makes it about six pages of print and two ex
cellent engravings for eace cent of the money. The engravings alone, without a
line of letter-press, would be cheap at the price. One good thing these Story Books
will certainly accomplish : henceforth inferior authorship and used-up, worn out
illustrations can not be paTmed off on children. They have samples here of what
is best for them, and they are shrewd enough not to put up with any thing of low
er quality. — N. Y. Daily Times.
We have heard so many fathers and mothers who recognize the pleasant duty
of guiding the minds of their children in the paths of knowledge at home, speak
in terms of the highest commendation of this series of books for children, that we
feel a desire to see them universally read among children. They constitute the
finest series of books for the young that we have seen. — Louisville Courier.
Who is better qualified than Jacob Abbott to prepare such a work? He always
seems to have an intuitive perception of just what children want— just what will
take with them, and so serve as the medium of conveying instruction in the pleas-
antest form. He has begun this new series admirably, and we almost envy the
relish with which our children will read it. Now for a suggestion to parents :
instead of buying your boy some trumpery toy, give him a year's subscription to
this charming monthly. It will cost you three dollars, indeed ; but its excellent
moral hints and influence, its useful and entertaining knowledge, are worth all
that, and much more If you think you can not afford it for one child, take it for
vour children's home circle, and let one read it aloud to the others. You'll never
i.-^rT it.— Christian Inquirer

BUNGENER'S COUNCIL OF TRENT,
History of the Council of Trent. From the French of L. F. Bvnge-
ner, Author of "The Priest and the Huguenot" Edited, from
the Second English Edition, by John M'Clintock, D.D. 12mo,
Muslin, -si 00.
Most persons know that the Council of Trent was a product of the Reforma
tion, but comparatively few, we suspect, know much about its history. Those
who wish to know (and it is a matter worth knowing) will find ample means of
information in this volume. * * * He (the author) is clear in statement, subtle
and consecutive in his logic, and steers as far from dullness as from sourness. —
Perthshire Advertiser.
It is all that a history should be— perspicuous in language, discriminating in
detail, dignified and philosophical in manner, candid and faithful in the narration
of facts, and bears evident traces of extensive reading and enlarged*information.
— Caledonian Meecury.
This history is invaluable. — Christian Advocate.
Characterized by clearness, truthfulness, and vigor in the narrative, acuteness
and terseness in the reasoning, and a spirit of Christian fidelity and charity. —
Watchman. The work before us is undoubtedly one of the very best that has appeared on
the subject. The writer has abundant materials, and has used them with fidelity,
impartiality, and talent. His brilliant style radiates in every department of the
work. — Philadelphia Evening Bulletin.
A work of permanent interest, which should be well understood by the ministry
ol our church and country. — Christian Observer.
It is adapted for popular reading; while, as a true portraiture of men and things
in the Council, it is invaluable to the theologian. — Christian Intelligencer.

MEXICO AND ITS RELIGION;
Or, Incidents of Travel in that Country during Parts of the Tears
1851-52-53-54, with Historical Notices of Events connected
with Places Visited. By Robert A Wilson. "Wiih Illustra
tions. 12mo, Muslin, $1 00.
This is a record of recent travel in various parts of Mexico, including full sta
tistical details, historical reminiscences and legends, and descriptions of society.
manners, and scenery. A large portion is devoted to the influence of the Catholic
Church, and relates many piquant narratives in illustration of the subject. The
author writes in a lively, graphic, and, sometimes, humorous style. He gives a
great deal of valuable information, and his travels can not fail to find numerous
readers and prove a most popular volume.

SEYMOUR'S JESUITS.
Mornings among the Jesuits at Rome. Being Notes of Conversa
tions held with certain Jesuits on the Subject of Eeligion in the
City of Rome. By Rev. JI. Hobaet Seymour, M.A. 12mo.
Muslin, 7> eent=.