is sucking its bit, I will smoke cigarettes, and sing that romance of King Rodrigo, which, as you are aware, commences thus."
And quickly bringing his guitar to the front, he began singing in a loud voice, —
"Cuando las pintadas aves
Mudas están, y la tierra
Atenta escucha los rio
Que al mar su tributo llevan:
Al escaso resplandor – "2
"Eh!" the colonel exclaimed, brusquely interrupting, "what musical rage possesses you? It is frenzy."
"No," the singer replied in melancholy mood; "it is philosophy."
The colonel examined the poor fellow for a moment; then drawing nearer to him, —
"I am Colonel Don Sebastian Guerrero de Chimalpos. I am travelling with my daughter and a few servants. Grant me the honour of your company for this night: tomorrow we will separate, and go our several ways."
The stranger hesitated for a moment, and frowned. This shade of dissatisfaction, however, soon disappeared.
"I am a proud fool," he replied with affecting frankness; "misery renders me so susceptible that I fancy people are ever trying to humiliate me. I accept your gracious invitation as frankly as it is offered. Perhaps I may be able to prove my gratitude to you ere long."
The colonel paid no great attention to these words, because, just at the moment, the party arrived at the mesón of San Juan, whose lighted windows had revealed its proximity to the travellers for some time past.
II. – EL MESÓN DE SAN JUAN
A great deal has been written about the cool and inhospitable way in which Spanish and Sicilian landlords receive the travellers whom Providence sends them; but it is evident to us that those who write in such wise are not acquainted, even by hearsay, with the mesoneros or Mexican hosts. Were it so, they would doubtlessly, at their own risk and peril, have rehabilitated those worthy fellows, to discharge the whole weight of their indignation on the huéspedes of New Spain.
It is a justice to render to the Spanish and Sicilian landlords, that if they are utterly unable to satisfy in any way the exigencies of travellers, by giving the latter the provisions they demand, still they greet them with so affable a countenance, and veil their refusal under such an exquisite politeness, that in nine cases out of ten the traveller is compelled to allow that he was himself to blame for not laying in the necessary provisions, and therefore sups on apologies.
In Mexico things are very different. On the few high roads formerly constructed by the Spaniards, and which the neglect of the different governments that succeeded them has left in such a state that they will soon disappear completely, there stand, at long distances from each other, vast buildings which resemble fortresses, for they are nearly all surrounded by embattled and loopholed walls. These buildings are the mesones, or inns.
The interior is composed, first, of an enormous court, with a noria, or well, intended to water the horses. Corrals for the beasts of burden occupy the four corners of this yard. In a separate building are the travellers' cuartos; that is to say, miserable dens furnished only with a frame of oak, covered with a cowhide, which serves as a bed. These cuartos are numbered, and all open on long corridors. Each traveller is obliged to bring with him the indispensable bedding, for the host only supplies the alfalfa for the horses' provender, and water from the noria.
It was about ten at night when Colonel Guerrero arrived at the door of the mesón of San Juan, which was hermetically closed. Upon the repeated blows dealt by one of the servants, a wicket pierced in the wall, about two paces from the gate, at length opened; an ill-tempered face was visible, and a rough voice shouted, —
"Who dares to make such a disturbance at the gate of so honest and respectable a mesón as this?"
"Travellers have arrived, Don Cristoval Saccaplata," the colonel answered. "Come, open quickly, for we have made a long journey, and are tired."
"Hum! They all say the same thing," the host growled. "What do I care for that? I shall not open, it is too late; so go your way, and Heaven protect you!"
And he prepared to close the wicket.
"One moment. Confound you!" the colonel shouted, "you will not let us bivouac in front of your door? That would not be at all honourable for you."
"Bah! A night is soon passed," the host replied with a grin; "besides, you can go on to the mesón del Salto: they will open to you there."
"Don't you know that is eight miles off?"
"Of course I do."
"Come, open, Señor Saccaplata: you would not have the barbarity to leave us out here?"
"Why not?"
"Because, if you do open, you will be rewarded in a way which you will not repent of."
"Yes, yes, all travellers are the same; they make plenty of promises so long as they are outside; but once in, they are not in a hurry to untie their purse-strings."
"That will not be the case with us."
"How do I know?" the huésped said, shrugging his shoulders. "My house is full; I have no room left."
"We will find some, dear Saccaplata."
"Halloh! Who are you, pray, who know me so well? Maybe you are one of those caballeros de la noche who have been ransacking the country for some time past."
"You are mistaken grossly, and I will prove it to you," the colonel answered, anxious to cut short this open-air conversation. "Take that first," he said, throwing two ounces through the wicket; "and now, to prevent any misunderstanding, know that I am Don Sebastian Guerrero."
The worthy landlord was only sensible to one argument – that which the colonel had so judiciously employed to overcome his resistance. He stooped, picked up the two ounces, which disappeared in a second, and again addressing the travellers, but this time with a tone which he strove to render more amiable, —
"Come," he said, "I must e'en do what you wish, I am too good-hearted. You have provisions, I hope?"
"We have everything we require."
"All the better, for I could not have supplied you. Do not be impatient; I am coming down."
He disappeared from the wicket, and within five minutes could be heard unbarring the door, growling fearfully the while. The travellers then entered the yard of the mesón. The huésped had lied like the true landlord he was; he only had in the house two or three muleteers with their animals, and three travellers, who, by their dress, seemed to be hacenderos from the vicinity.
"Halloh!" Don Sebastian shouted, "someone to take my horse."
"If you begin in that way we shall not be friends long," the huésped said in the sharp tone he had previously employed. "Here, everyone, big or little, waits on himself, and attends to his own horse."
The colonel was far from being of a patient temper. If he had previously endured the host's insolence, it was solely because it was impossible to chastise him; but that reason no longer existed. Sharply dismounting, he drew his pistols from his holsters, thrust them in his belt, and walking boldly toward Señor Saccaplata, seized him by the
When the spangled birds are dumb, and the attentive earth listens to the rivers that bear their tribute to the sea by the weak light – .
