The salutation on the street is “adios,” the equivalent of the French adieu, but “buenos dias,” “buenos tardes,” and “buenos noches” are also used for good morning, etc., and are always used in the plural. Why, the deponent sayeth not. One of the adjuncts of an introduction, is for the native to offer his cigarette case; and to refuse the invitation to smoke, is to also refuse the introduction, and this little custom nearly brought trouble upon the writer’s head. His early education had been sadly neglected, and the manly art of smoking had never been taught him, so he was forced to practice deception on his kind friends to keep the peace. The deadly cigarette is rolled in the thin innershuck of the Indian corn, and holds its shape whether filled or not, so I filled my pocket with empty cases. When my new-made friend asked that I smoke with him the pipe of peace, I replied cordially, “Sí Señor,” and took the proffered cigarette, and with the same hand felt in my pocket for a match and exchanged the loaded cigarette for a harmless one, and, presto! I am in good form and all goes merry as a marriage bell. He tells me his house, his sisters and all he has are mine for ever, and I quietly add another item to my million dollar possessions. In one summer I have acquired more wealth and real estate and beautiful maidens by actual gift, than Jay G. and Brigham Y. acquired in a lifetime.
Already I have become a bloated aristocrat, and daily receive and give away haciendas that cover nine square leagues of land.
The custom-house officials already have their eye on me, and are even now figuring on the dividends they will declare when I attempt to leave the country, but every bitter has its antidote, so I am congratulating myself on the change of dates. A few years ago I was in this country when each state collected its customs’ duties from every other state, and that sometimes meant two or three inspections daily. Now things have changed and they inspect only on the border, so I shall have fewer bribes to offer the officials from my newly-acquired millions.
This people’s generosity runs them into bankruptcy. Once a kind friend introduced himself to me, said he always did like my country and people, said he had a beautiful sister named Inez and she was mine. “Take her, señor, she is yours,” also a whole block of buildings. I thanked him profusely and began to take stock of my new possessions, when he said in excellent English, “Have you a loose quarter about your clothes you could lend me to buy a supper?” We had reached a part of the street where there was no light when he made his modest request, and he had his hand on a very persuasive looking knife. I had my eye on him and my hand on a good revolver, so in very choice Texas language I told him I had the drop on him.
After reflecting that he had nearly impoverished himself by enriching me with all his possessions, I took pity on him and gave him a pewter quarter that some of my dear friends had passed on me that very morning. Instinctively his native politeness came to the front, and with hat in hand he kotowed, and in the softest of Spanish he thanked me a thousand and one times, and incidentally let the quarter fall to the pavement to catch the ring of it. Proving counterfeit money here is a regular trade which they all learn.
Hereafter I shall positively refuse all gifts, because I am going to call upon the president, and when I admire the national palace he will of course say: “Take it, it is yours,” and it will appear ungrateful in me to refuse it and mean in me to accept it, because all new presidents have to start a revolution; and then he might not appreciate my motives, and sometimes they do not understand American jokes till a week after their perpetration. This is due to British influence at the embassy.
In the Capital I went once to a hotel, and before the carriage could stop, three flunkies fell over themselves grabbing for my baggage, they were so glad to see me. One got an umbrella, one a camera and one a valise, and ran up stairs to my room to welcome me, and this welcome only cost me twenty-five cents.
The proprietor wrung my hands and then wrung his own, and then spreading them out with a magnanimous gesture said: “This hotel is yours señor, and all my servants; just make yourself at home.” I blushed profusely and told him I certainly appreciated a four-story stone front on San Francisco Street, and I would remember him in my prayers.
After a week of his hospitality, when I offered to treat him to a cigar, he incidentally mentioned that I owed him sixteen reals for each day of my pleasant sojourn. I asked him what for. “Your room, señor.” I told him very forcibly that he told me to make myself at home. “So I did,” said he. “But I never pay board at home,” said I, but the point was lost on him. He was wearing a British hat, impervious to jokes. Next summer he will ask me what I meant.
This is the second time I have got into trouble by accepting largesse, and for the first time I understand what the old Trojans meant when they said: “Beware of Greeks bearing gifts.”