and all attacks were at once abandoned. He had fought so bravely that picadors, matadors, coleadors, and all the troop of the arena drew round him in a circle, as if to look on the death-struggle of a hero. All seemed struck with admiration! the léperos in the galleries, even, were hushed to profound silence.
The bull stood a moment as if uncertain what to do. I confess that the poor wretch seemed to me to possess intellect—an intellect, stung by the reproach of strength foiled by an inferior and despised foe.
He felt his limbs grow feebler. He attempted to run, but his legs refused to move. He lifted his feet convulsivly—waved his tail—opened his eyes as if alarmed by a sudden nervous fear, and fixed them with a fierce stare on the blood which was pouring in a stream before him. He tried to run; reeled twice, but recovered his balance. A matador then came again before him with his cloak and a short dagger, to put an end to the painful scene; but as he approached, the beast swayed himself forward with his lips drawn up, and the foam covering his teeth—drew himself up still and stiff as a statue, for a dying effort of power—then suddenly bending his head to the earth, sprang at the matador and fell dead—
"Foiled, breathless, bleeding, furious—to the last!"
*******
This was the best fight of the evening. Five more bulls were brought out, but nearly all proved craven. None, however, were killed by the matador at the first blow, which rather lowered the mob's opinion of his skill. Some of the animals were caught by the tail, which, twisted around the high pommel of the saddles of the coleadors, while their horses were brought to a sudden halt, threw the bulls on their sides. These, however, were the utter cowards. Others were caught with the lasso around the horns or heels, and I had thus the first opportunity of seeing the perfection obtained by most Mexican horsemen in the use of this useful instrument. One of the bulls bounded over the palisade, among the spectators, within a few feet of me; but he was so contemptible a beast, that he seemed more pleased to get rid of the crowd than the crowd was to get rid of him. He was of course sacrificed in some very ignoble manner.
As the evening sports ended, and even before sunset, the moon rose in her calm majesty, casting her mild light on the multitude in that bloody circus. The towers and dome of a church overlook the walls of the arena on the east, and the bells called the crowd from that scene of carnage on the Sabbath evening, to the adjacent retreat of peacefulness and religion! As I went home, I could not help asking myself, if I had spent those hours profitably? It is true that there are "sermons in stones, and good in everything;" and the contrast of life and death—the passage of a creature from robust and active health, and the full enjoyment of every physical power, to death and utter oblivion—was, it is equally true, a sermon and a lesson. But to how many? Was there a lépero there, who went away taught, thoughtful or moralizing?
