and concocting a kettle of Atolli, or Champorada,[1] with the child slung to her back in the Indian fashion, and exposed to the bracing cold of the morning air, which is not dispelled until the sun gets well above the horizon, at nine or ten o'clock. The little creature seemed to thrive upon this system, and as all was confusion within at that hour, the servants being busy in making up the loads, and her mother occupied with the care of her less healthy sister, we generally let her take her chance.
At nine or ten o'clock, according to the distance, we stopped at some Rancho to breakfast, or sate down wherever there was shade, and pulque, or a little water, to eat the provisions which we had brought with us. Milk we often obtained at this hour, when we laid in the provision for the day, which kept admirably, notwithstanding the sun and the motion of the coach, in bottles filled till they overflowed, and then corked up. I did not find this to be the case with the milk and cream which I had brought with me from England;[2] for the cases not being quite full, we generally found, on opening them, that their contents had been converted, by the trot of the mules, into butter; in which state, however, they furnished, occasionally, a very agreeable addition to our fare. After breakfast, which lasted but a short time, we proceeded, without farther in-
