of words that meant nothing, and of arguments never intended to lead to anything. Each member of the assembly appeared to think his own particular voice the only one worthy of being heard on the occasion, and to be bent on vindicating his own importance at the expense of everybody and everything beside; and the subject of adjourning to partake of refreshments, seemed to be the sum and substance of their conversation, at intervals. The council met in an old, and almost unfurnished apartment, in what was formerly a splendid palace in the town square; and, as nearly as I can remember, there were about twelve members present.
The occupant of the principal seat—who seemed to be regarded as chairman—was a dark and rather puffy man, with curly moustaches, an angular beard, and black teeth; dressed in a thick, ornamented serapé, embroidered shirt, velvet pantaloons, and thin shoes. His grand forte, by which he appeared to exercise a great amount of control over his comrades, lay in—hesitation. He was not a solemn man, nor particularly violent, nor yet silent; and he listened with some show of deference to all around him—but he hesitated. Nothing could
