The Lepero is a variety of the Indian, and combines in himself most of the bad qualities of the two classes from whose union he derives his being. He is the inhabitant of cities, towns or villages, and, is in Mexico, what the lazzaroni are in Naples. Neither white, black nor copper colored; neither savage nor civilized; neither an agriculturist nor a mechanic, the lepero occupies an equivocal position upon the boundaries of all these characters. His existence is altogether a matter of chance. He has scarcely ever a permanent home. His wife and children, or his amiga, are lodged on the ground floor of a hovel in the outskirts of the town, from which he is often expelled in consequence either of his poverty, intemperance, or quarrelsome behavior. If unmarried, he finds a resting place, in these delicious climates, on a mat beneath the sky, or within the friendly shelter of a wall
or portico. He is devoted to pulque and music; for, whilst he drains his social glass in the pulqueria amid a crowd of companion leperos, he is ever ready to sing a stave or make a verse in which a spice of wit or satire is certainly found. When he has earned a dollar by toil, he quits his labor even before it is completed, in order to spend his enormous gain. His wants are so small that he may be liberal in his vices. He regards work as an odious imposition upon human nature; and, created merely to live, he takes care only of to-day leaving to-morrow to take care of itself. Prudence, he thinks, would be a manifest distrust of Providence. His food, purchased at the corner of a street from one of the peripatetic cooks, consists of a few tortillas or corncakes, steeped in a pan of Chili peppers compounded with lard. A fragment of beef or fowl sometimes gives zest to the frugal mess. His dress, of narrow cotton or leather trowsers, and a blanket which is at once, bed, bedding, coat and cloak,—is worn season after season without washing, except during the providential ablutions of rain, until the mingled attrition of dirt and time entirely destroy the materials. An occasional crime, or quarrel, which is terminated by a resort to knives and copious phlebotomy, sends him several times every year to the public prison, where he is faithfully visited, fed and consoled by his spouse or amiga. As he passes along the streets with the manacled chain-gang to sweep the town, he begs a claco with such bewitching impudence that the man who refuses the demanded alms must be insensible to humor. Like the Indian, he is remarkably skilful in imitation, and makes figures of wax or rags, which are not only singularly faithful as portraits, but possess a certain degree of grace that is worthy of an artist. Some of the tribe read and write with ease and even elegance. Among this class are to be found the evangelistas or letter writers, who, seated around the portales and side walks of the plaza, are ready, at a moment's notice, to indite a sonnet to a mistress, a petition to government, a letter to an absent husband, or a wrathful effusion to a faithless lover. Another branch of this nomadic horde is engaged in the profitable occupation of "thieving," which requires no capital in trade save nimble fingers, rapid action, and a bold look with which detection may be defied. The narrow streets and lanes of towns are the theatres in which these accomplished rogues perform. No man in Mexico dares indulge in the luxury of carrying a handkerchief in his pocket. The attempt would be useless, for a lepero would appropriate it before the stranger had walked a square. Upon one occasion a hat was actually taken off an Englishman's head by a lepero in a dense crowd; but the act was so adroitly done, that the jolly foreigner joined in the shout of laughter with which the hero was hailed as he vanished among the masses. Should the priest pass at such a moment with the host, on his way to the chamber of a dying citizen, the lepero would fall on his knees with the rest of the townspeople, yet whilst he beat his breast with one hand, he might be seen to keep the other tenaciously in his victim's pocket. If caught in the felonious act, which rarely happens, the lepero takes the inflicted blows or choking with craven humility, and, whilst he shouts—"ya esta, Senor amo,—ya esta!" "enough, my master, oh enough!" he is seeking for another opportunity to pilfer his punisher's watch or purse, during the conflict.
Such is the Mexican lepero. The sketch may seem broad or even caricatured to those who are unacquainted with the country, but its accuracy will be acknowledged by all who have resided in Mexico and been haunted by the filthy tribe.
The Ranchero comes next in our classification of the Mexicans. He is a small farmer, or vaquero, who owns or hires a few acres on which he cultivates his corn or grazes his cattle. He is not an Indian, a white man, an African, or a lepero, yet he mixes the qualities of all in his motly character. He is a person of lofty thoughts and aspirations;—a devoted patriot;—a staunch fighter in all the revolutions whenever guerillas are required;—a hard rider and capital boon companion over a bottle or in a journey among the mountains.
On his small estate he devotes himself to the cultivation of the ground, or leaves this menial occupation to his family whilst he goes off to the wars or to carousals and fandangos in the neighboring village pulquerias. He is an Arab in his habits, and especially in his love and management of the horse. Dressed in his leather trowsers and jerkin; with his serape over his shoulders, his broad brimed and silver corded sombrero on his head; his heels armed with spurs whose three-inch rowels gleam like the blades of daggers; his sword strapped to the saddle beneath his armas de agua, and, grasping his gun in his hand,—the Ranchero is ready, as soon as he mounts, to follow you for months over the republic. He is the nomade of the country, as the lepero is of the town. His devotion to his animal is unbounded. The faithful quadruped is his best friend and surest reliance. His lazo lies curved gracefully in festoons around the pommel of his saddle. Thus, with his trusty weapons and his horse, the mounted ranchero is at home in the forest or in the open field; on hill side or in valley. Few riders, elsewhere, can equal him in speed or horsemanship; and few can excel him as a herdsman, a robber, an enemy, or even a friend whenever you hit his fancy or are willing to understand his character and pardon his sins.