10th.—The Baron and Madame de , with their secretary, the Count de B, came out yesterday morning unexpectedly to breakfast, and spent the day with us.
13th.—We went out with Cn last evening, to take a walk, when a man rushed by us in a state of great agitation, and on going further we met some workmen, who told us that an Indian laborer had stabbed a man in the next field, and that he had died before a padre could be procured. We heard the cries of his wife and children, and A, crossing the ditch that bordered the field, went to see the man. He was a master-workman, or director, and had found fault with one of the men for his idleness. High words ensued, and the laborer (probably the man who had passed us) drew his knife and stabbed him. He was lying stone dead, with his hand half cut through in his efforts to defend himself. A asked an administrador, who was standing near, what would be done to the guilty man. "Probably nothing," said he, shrugging his shoulders; "we have no judges to punish crime." This rencontre, as you may believe, took away from us all inclination to pursue our rambles.
There is a pretty farm house in the village, in which we took shelter the other day from a shower of rain. The farmers are civil and respectful, a superior kind of people, with good manners rather above their station. The daughters are good looking, and the house clean and neat. One of the girls gave me an account of a nocturnal visit which the robbers paid them last winter. She showed me the
