ers then in prison at Guadalajara had arrived, and that they would be shot immediately. Mr. Seward had been appealed to by their father, to intercede for them at the city of Mexico, but they were in their graves long before we reached Guanajuato. They deserved no sympathy.
We took leave of our old friends, who had accompanied us all the way from Manzanillo, with much regret, and shall not soon forget their kindness and constant care for our welfare. Henceforth, we were under the care of Señor Don Luis G. Bossero, the special commissioner sent out from the City of Mexico to meet us at Guadalajara and escort us to the capital. He is a large, fine-looking gentleman, exceedingly courteous and polite in his manners, and speaks English with just enough foreign accent to make his droll stories more amusing and enjoyable.
Our baggage was loaded upon a cart drawn by four mules, abreast, which were managed by about a dozen retainers and servants of different degrees. Our road, all day for thirty miles, led us over a broken, hilly country, something like Central New York in appearance, and almost entirely devoted to cattle raising. The few small villages through which we passed were all inhabited by very poor people, of Indian descent, and the country generally seemed to be in keeping. The whole country is underlaid with ancient and partially decomposed lava, and the roads, though hard enough at the bottom, were fearfully rough. Our baggage-cart was repeatedly stalled or overturned, and one of the mules had his leg broken, and was turned out to die by the roadside.
A few miles out from Guadalajara, we crossed the
