of which we received at Sombrerete, for banishing a fit of the spleen, which might otherwise have endangered his life. The rapidity of my progress prevented me from feeling this in the same degree; and I was in such excellent condition for work, that after riding 150 miles from Durango in two successive mornings,[1] I walked about Fresnillo all the afternoon, to make inquiries respecting the mines, none of which are now in activity. Some few were taken up in 1825 by the Mexican Company; but the contracts were so injudicious, and the terms so onerous, that they were abandoned, (not, I believe, without a considerable sacrifice,) as soon as public opinion with regard to mining speculations in England took an unfavourable turn. The town lies at the foot of an isolated hill, upon which the mines are situated; platforms for the erection of Malacates, and extensive excavations, are now all that is left to denote their former importance.
The road from Fresnillo to Zacatecas is excellent as far as Arroyo de en Media, (six leagues,) but the level country ceases at San Juan de la Calera, (two
- ↑ Many people have thought Captain Head's account of distances exaggerated; but in countries where it is the custom to ride post, one hundred miles a day is by no means an extraordinary performance. I have myself ridden from Madrid to Bayonne, (one hundred "Leguas del Rey," or four hundred English miles,) in forty-seven hours; and I once went from Seville to London, when sent, under very pressing circumstances, with despatches, by Lord Heytesbury, in eight days and a half, (partly on horseback, and partly in a cabriolet,) and returned in nine.
