if there be no shelter at hand, not
infrequently, when alone or only with his companions, takes off his
clothing and places it in some sheltered rock-crevice, where it keeps
dry, until the storm has passed, he himself remaining nude and
unconcerned amid the downpour. A mouthful of _mezcal_, or fiery native
spirit, will ward off a chill.

At night we have sought the hospitality of the owner of some _adobe_
hut. He has done his best for me, but sleeping on the floor is ever
trying, and the pack-mule with my baggage and camp-bed has tarried on
the road. A rainstorm in this region has the effect of bringing out the
noxious vermin from the soil, where they have lain during the heat.
Among the most uncomfortable of these are the _alacran_, or scorpion,
and the centipede, both of which reptiles are found freely upon the
walls and roofs of the _adobe_ dwellings. For my peace of mind we have
carefully examined the interior, with a candle, before turning in, and
the _mozo_, with a piece of firewood, has smashed the offending
centipedes, of which there were a number. Both the scorpion and
centipede have a venomous sting, the former sometimes fatal. As to the
_peones_, they display small concern at the presence of these vermin.
"God willing we shall not be stung," they say, and, rolling themselves
in their _ponchos_ on the bare floor in a corner of the habitation,
they are soon asleep. But sleep does not visit me so easily. An
uncomfortable impression remains, which has not been lessened by the
casual remark of the owner of the hut regarding the habits of the
scorpions. "Very knowing creatures, senor," he says, as he obsequiously
helps to arrange my couch in the middle of the floor--a position chosen
by myself--"they have a habit of dropping from the roof on to a person
sleeping beneath"!

Mexico, unlike other Cordilleran countries, lends itself to travel in
certain directions by means of roads and vehicles. The _diligencias_
which give communication from remote places to the wayside stations of
the railways, where the nature of the topography admits of roads for
wheeled vehicles, are canvas-topped carriages drawn by half a dozen
mules. Over the dusty plains of the tableland and through the rugged
scenery of hill-passes these somewhat crazy vehicles perform their
journeys, starting often before sunrise and arriving after sunset in
order to accomplish their toilsome trajectory. Jolting over the ruts
and _arroyos_ of the scarcely-t