ing
down, two or three clumsy cedar chairs covered with raw hide, and a
couple of grass hammocks, serving the double purpose of beds and
lounges, constituted all the furniture of the great farm. As a
substitute for wardrobes and hat-stands, we were shown a number of
deer-antlers and bull-horns embedded in the walls of reeds and mud,
on which to hang our pouches, bridles, etc.

I searched in vain on our arrival for something like a bowl in which to
lave my hands and face, covered with dust and parched by the broiling
sun of the savannas. Even water was so scarce that it was served to us
sparingly from a large calabash gourd used in bringing it from the
river, nearly a mile distant. It is true there was, within the enclosure
of the houses, a pond or excavation, made while searching for the
remains of a brave officer who fell fighting for his country's freedom.
Sufficient water had accumulated there during the rainy season to
entitle it to the name of _Laguna_ or Lake of Genaro Vazquez, the name
of the aforementioned hero; but it was so filled with _bavas_,--a small
species of alligator,--terrapins, and toads, as to render the water
undrinkable.

But to return to our head-quarters, the structure of which struck me so
forcibly at first as a beehive of vast proportions, naturally suggesting
the idea of a "land of milk and honey." Unfortunately, neither of these
could be obtained for love or money, although the woods and pastures of
the estate abounded in both the creatures that produced them. So we were
compelled to resort to our reserved stock of _papelon_ to sweeten our
coffee, and to its own delicious natural aroma in the place of milk. As
to the house itself, it only differed from the rest in that region in
being larger, and perhaps in better order, than are the generality.
Imagine a pyramidal structure, thatched with palm-leaves, the roof
slanting to within a few feet of the ground, and supported on stout
posts of live timber, which served also as framework for the walls, and
you will have some idea of the style of architecture peculiar to the
country. Doors and windows are of no account in a country uniformly warm
throughout the year, and where the inhabitants possess few articles
capable of tempting the cupidity of light-fingered gentry. Therefore an
ox-hide stretched across the openings left in the walls to admit light
and the inmates is all that is required to keep off uninvited guests. As
an exception to this rul