falls a long fleece of silky black fur. And the Centaur-like grace of steed and rider flashes before one's delighted eyes, to disappear as mysteriously again behind the jealous hedges.
Under a mesquite-bush by the wayside one may see an Indian woman scouring a tall earthen jar, preparatory to swinging it, fresh filled from the well, upon her shoulder in the old biblical fashion; under another, a couple of wrinkled crones are washing clothes in a shallow ditch, and spreading the wet pieces upon the cactus plants to dry. Now and again a drowsy little tienda shows one or two unhurried customers at its narrow counter; or a corner cantine has its inevitable handful of quiet pulque-drinkers; or a silent brown group, their glowing eyes alone showing trace of excitement, gathers around a pair of fighting cocks. The sky above is as blue as Colorado; the air is pure and sweet, with the softness of a late May day; and between you and the matter-of-fact, work-a-day world you left a few hours ago, are a thousand miles of distance and a lifetime of difference.
Every step into the new territory to the southward deepens the impression which this first
