extra displays of skill. Looking for an inn we discover two lines of low, rickety buildings alternating with heaps of rubbish, fodder and harness. After some efforts a waiter is found and we obtain a room, with a mule already slumbering in one corner of it and all sorts of household litter thrown about. A wretched cot with a rope bottom, a dirty table and an abundance of saints portrayed in Mexican dress help to make the place homelike. The waiter is amiable, and ejects the mule with a great show of indignation; but when we ask for water and a towel his good nature fails. "Oh, What a man," he cries, flinging up his hands; "What a lunatic. Ave Maria Purisima; Ha! Ha! Ha! He wants water, he wants a towel; what the devil—! Good-by." The dining-room is a hot, steamy cell, fitted up with Charcoal furnaces; and for viands we are offered plenty of hard beef, chile (pepper) and tortillas (flapjacks of a sort), besides a number of dishes that only a native could either describe or eat. Chile and tortillas appear, however, to be the essentials; and the latter, partly rolled up, serve also as spoons."[1]
After dinner we look about the town. All is monotonous and sombre. The houses, mostly of one story, form a continuous wall along the street—or along the sidewalk, if there be one—and their projecting, heavily barred windows, in front of which the young fellows have to do their courting, suggest prisons more than homes. Now we come to the massive, crumbling, gloomy church, and wonder where the priest keeps the family which everybody knows he has. Here is the government house, and we stop to picture the wily politicians, who—with noble exceptions—obtain the offices of local grandeur, and the little horde of clerks, many of them rendered prematurely decrepit by their vices, that fawn but cannot be made to Work at the nod of authority, In vain we look for a book—store, though somewhere that name doubtless appears on a sign; but we do and the office of the comandante general, an officer who represents the central power, has charge of the military, and often is mining and counter—mining in a sharp struggle with the governor. How intolerably dull it must be to live here! Business of a large sort there is none. The little newspapers are scarcely more than echoes from partisan sheets at Mexico. Religion is a subject that one
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