It is too late for me to expect any credit for remarking the mutability of all human affairs; but I was reminded of the fact to-day with all the force of a new revelation. But this morning I was quartered like a prince, with a palace for a dwelling, and a cacique’s retinue to obey my bidding; and now, there is not an Indian so poor as to do me reverence. The floor of the Casa-real into which fate had cast me was not entirely covered with water. The hammock swung clear of the mud. There evidently had been a roof over head, and my situation would have been positively worse in the streets. Comparatively, then, I was comfortable. The rain too had almost ceased; the Indians were coming in, and the prospects of a dinner were brightening. Across the square stood the church, with its heavy walls blackened with the sun and the rain, with its gabled front, and pigeon-holed apex, and its trio of bells. By its side stood the house of the curate, with its low sides, and high though dilapidated thatched roof. There were some half dozen stores scattered about, and a few stone buildings, no doubt inhabited by the whites; the rest of the town, as usual, is made of Indian huts.
The dinner came, and it satisfied me that none can appreciate the importance of a meal, except those who have tried it after a day’s riding and fasting in a country like this. After a hearty repast of tortillas and frejoles, the weather was consulted, with a view of continuing our journey; but the result was not flattering. The fact was much clearer than the sky, that we were to remain here during the night, and there was no friendly Colonel within reach to rescue me from my lodgings. But it struck me that there must be some resource. The curate appeared to be the only chance, so to his house I wended my way, and entered with the customary “Ave Maria” upon my lips. He was swinging in his hammock. I introduced myself to him at once; described the deplorable state of the Casa-real, and solicited his influence in obtaining us more comfortable quarters. He received me very kindly, and promised to do all in his power to make me comfortable; and right well he kept his word. A bottle of “Abenaro,” a peculiar liquor of the country, and its accompaniment of cigars, were speedily sent for; and, in much less time than it requires to partake of either, I discovered that I was at home, at the house of my friend, the curate of Tuncax.
A long and animated conversation followed, which, I only recollect, was poorly understood by either, in consequence of the small amount of words which we comprehended in common. It was, mainly, of a political cast; politics being the subject in which he appeared to take most interest.
The curate was a young man, who, compared with many of his order in the country, had devoted much time to study. He has possessed the curacy for the last four years; but, if one may draw conclusions from things around, it is not a very lucrative situation.
Everything in the vicinity indicated extreme poverty; and I felt some embarrassment in asking to see his church and its nakedness. This, however, was happily obviated by a polite invitation, on his part, to conduct me through it. So, putting on his black velvet and silk, and mounting a curious high-peaked hat, and taking his telescope in his hand, he led the way over the broken stone floors, and along the dark damp halls, to the edifice.
As we entered, he remarked that it was poor. Indeed, that was plainly impressed upon everything in and about it. It had not even cleanliness and order to relieve its appearance. We passed through it, and ascended, by a flight of stone steps on the outside, to the roof, where, by the aid of the telescope, we had a fine view of the surrounding country.
On returning, my kind host made such immediate and complete arrangements for our accommodation, as guarantied to my ménage not only comfort, but some degree of splendor. On reaching the house that had been made ready for our reception, my friend, the curate, informed me that it was mine, and desired me to call for whatever I wished. The saddlebags and hammock were sent for, and everything was soon in a comfortable condition. The table was supplied with refreshments, and ornamented with large earthen cups of cool water, on the surface of which full-blown red roses were floating. The garden attached to my house, which I supposed, of course, was included in the gift, was fragrant with ripe oranges, and other delicious fruits. Besides all these, a whole troop of Indians were in attendance, to await my behests. There stands the Casa-real, our deserted hovel, just across the way. These sudden changes absolutely require nerve.
Between the kindness of the curate, the company of a civil dignitary of the town, and two other citizens, as guests, and a supper, which, I flatter myself, I was fully prepared to appreciate, served up with the unusual luxury of knives and forks, I contrived to pass one of the most agreeable evenings that I had enjoyed since my departure from home.
At three o’clock on the following morning, we made ready to leave. The church was already lighted up, and the worthy curate at his post. At four we were in our saddles, and were soon making our way upon the road. The sky was clear and bright. The moon was half gone, throwing a sombre light upon all things around us. The green bushes by the road-side looked black; and the bleached wood of the rude crosses, erected at the pathway entrances to the haciendas, appeared forlorn and startling.
We met with but one living thing upon the road, and that was the mail-carrier. Neither the trampling of horses, nor the sound of horn, heralded his approach; but the clamping sounds of his wooden sandals, as they struck upon the stony road, gave us the first notice that he was near. The mail was contained in a small box, held by a strap, which passed round the head of the carrier, who was an Indian.