quarrel was the result. The little man was wofully beaten and punished before he would relinquish his point; and the postilion was thrust into the street by the late recipients of his bounty—bleeding and wounded, minus hat, bells, and scarlet handkerchief; his clothes hanging in miserable shreds and tatters about his person.
A yet more grotesque assertion of this independence shewed itself on another occasion, as I was travelling from the city of Puebla to the town of Perote, in the company of a small caravan of pedlars, guards, and carriers.
We had arrived within three hours riding from the latter place. It was early in the evening, and very hot; so as we had the remainder of the day before us, we allowed our animals to take their own time in carrying us to our journey's end. Proceeding very leisurely, therefore, we were overtaken by a man mounted upon a sorry mule, and a female with a child, who walked in a faltering and hesitating manner beside him. They had come from one of the little villages on our right hand, and were anxious to reach Perote before nightfall. They were both intoxicated; and the female produced a small coin—I could not see the amount—to secure
