I stopped at the “Hotel des Diligences,” which had been opened during my absence; and though I could not but feel some compunctions at having thus deserted the amiable Doña Michaelé, yet as she only kept her house purely for the accommodation of strangers, I felt my defection to be less serious. The new hotel was liberally supplied with all the natural advantages that are necessary to make its inmates comfortable. It was, in fact, un hotel Français, and reminded me strongly of those to be met with upon the borders of Switzerland, which, I am right glad to see, are finding their way into this province. Perhaps there is no part of the world where the traveller is more at a loss for accommodations upon the road, than in Yucatan.
The jaded horses being provided for, I, as is my wont, soon made myself perfectly at home, and as happy as I could. I was not a little rejoiced to find that the hotel was provided with a bathing-room, a luxury of which I was not long in availing myself. I came out completely renovated, and with all convenient speed swung myself into a hammock and forgetfulness.
On Sunday I attended public worship at the cathedral. The bishop delivered his last of an annual series of ten sermons. “Heaven” was the subject of his discourse. The church was well filled; the ladies, of course, and as usual, constituting a majority of the numerous assemblage that attended. They looked exceedingly well, though I could reconcile myself with difficulty to their seating themselves upon the cold stone floor. The words of the bishop, at the remote position which I occupied in the church, were indistinctly heard; and, therefore, I am unable to give any opinion of their merits. One thing is certain, their author looked the prelate to admiration. It was rather an ungentlemanly or thoughtless act of the commanding officer on parade in the adjoining square, to fire a feu-de-joie during the preaching. It had the effect of putting to rout many of the congregation, and drowning the bishop’s voice, very much to his discomfiture. I had entertained much doubt respecting the popularity of the church among the higher order and the better informed people of Yucatan, and this went far to establish it. It is policy, however, to keep it up as it is—but such examples as this have quite a contrary tendency.
For the last ten days the city has presented a singular aspect. Stores have been closing and opening. Processions, military and ecclesiastical, have been the order of the day. Images, of all sizes and distinctions, have been paraded through the public streets, and the churches crowded with women. Prayers were uttered aloud in the public thoroughfares of the city; and places of most resort, filled with both sexes, arrayed in suits of mourning. Government officers received indulgences, and all public labor was suspended. It was the enacting of the scenic shows of the death and rising of our Saviour. At half-past eight o’clock this morning, all the bells (and here are not a few) were put in motion. The Saviour had risen, and all was life—as life is in Merida!
My preparations for leaving Merida were completed. It was now late in the evening, the last night of my stay at Merida; and José had hung about, for one petty excuse or other, although he was sick, with an affectionate reluctance to leave me for the last time. The cause was almost too prominent to escape notice; and the remembrance of his little frailties, and they were remarkably few, was at once buried in oblivion. He wanted to accompany me home, but his health would not permit; and I was obliged to forego the indulgence of his wishes, and my own inclination to enjoy the advantage of his faithful services. The time has been when I have parted from a good old horse with an agitated bosom, and could less have been expected upon this occasion? The truth must be told; we both shed tears. I felt sincerely sorry to part with him. Poor José, God bless him! all I can do for him now is to give him my kind wishes, and to speak of him as he is—and to say to my countrymen who may visit Merida, that if they want a boy upon whom they can depend to follow them faithfully through the world, José is the lad to do it.
On the 7th of April, after experiencing a touch of the fever, to which all strangers are subjected in this country, I left Merida, by coach, for Campeachy. It started at five o’clock in the morning, with three passengers; an elderly woman and man and myself composing the load. The team galloped off at the rate of ten miles the hour, and changed horses every hour during the route. The coach was one of four which were imported from Troy; and, as a sample, was well worthy of the high reputation the Trojan carriages enjoy throughout the United States; but the horses and harness were in shocking bad keeping.
The driver was an Indian; besides whom were two other attendants, who were needed, for the unskilful hands of the Indian, and the wildness of the horses, made the vehicle go on all sides of the road. It was no uncommon occurrence, to be brought up against a stone wall at the side of the road; and, in one instance, we were foul of an Indian hut, which frightened the inmates to such a degree that they ran out, supposing it to be an earthquake. By combining the skill and strength of our whole party, we succeeded in getting the horses and coach again upon the highway.
We stopped at a village to take breakfast, and passed through several towns on the road, but they afforded nothing worthy of remark. The country through which our route lay, presented the same aspect as other parts we had visited. The fields were still covered with weeds, to burn which the proprietors of the soil were only waiting for dry weather. This is the only preparation the soil receives prior to sowing it. The progress of the coach afforded us much amusement, by the fright which it appeared to occasion to all animated nature in our way. This line of coaches had been only a short time established, and its whirling along among people and cattle, had a similar effect that a locomotive has among the animals and their owners in the wilds of the far West. Nothing would stand before it. Away went horse and rider, mule and packs, to secure a safe retreat in the bushes, at the alarming sound of our approach. Our arrival in the town brought out the whole population, and the Indians would come round the coach aching with curiosity, their countenances expressive both of fear and admiration.
Dinner was procured at a town called Zibackchen, and we remained here, for the want of horses, during the night. Our dining apartment was a billiard-room, where we sat down to a small table, four in all; our conductor making one of the number. Our elderly male companion had evidently seen better days. He was much soured at the appearance of the viands placed before us; and well he might be, for, agreeably to my recollections, they were shockingly bad, and dirty withal. There was but one knife; and that was used for the purpose of scraping the forks; and yet, the charges were most extravagant. This, too, is the depôt, under the personal supervision of the owners of the coaches, as we understood; the principal of whom is the Secretary of State! He, at least, ought to know the fact, and cause the evil to be abated. If I were upon those terms of intimacy that would warrant the freedom, with the kindliest motives, I would not hesitate to inform him of the existence of this crying evil. Our restiff fellow-passenger had spent some little time in New York, and was continually drawing comparisons; and, in his vexation at the things around him, expressed his opinion that Yucatan would never excel that State. This was a point upon which I felt no great disposition to cavil.
I walked through the town at four o’clock. The streets were deserted, the houses closed, and the people in their hammocks. At five, men were lounging about, and the ladies making their toilet, either at the windows or doors. This is a large town, and well built; but not more than one-half of the houses are occupied.