ich, from time to time, she gazed
tenderly. They were her only ones. They were a boy and girl, nearly of
equal size and age. The boy was the elder, perhaps thirteen or more, a
handsome lad, with swarth face, coal-black eyes, and curly full-flowing
dark hair. The girl, too, who would be about twelve, was dark--that is
to say, brunette in complexion. Her eyes were large, round, and dreamy,
with long lashes that kept the sun from shining into them, and thus
deepened their expression.

Perhaps there are no children in the world so beautiful as those of the
Spanish race. There is a smoothness of skin, a richness in colour, and
a noble "hidalgo" expression in their round black eyes that is rare in
other countries. Spanish women retain this expression to a good age.
The men lose it earlier, because, as I believe, they are oftener of
corrupted morals and habits; and these, long exercised, certainly stamp
their lines upon the face. Those which are mean, and low, and vicious,
produce a similar character of countenance, while those which are high,
and holy, and virtuous, give it an aspect of beauty and nobility.

Of all beautiful Spanish children none could have been more beautiful
than our two little Creole Spaniards, Leon and Leona--for such were the
names of the brother and sister.

There yet remains one to be described, ere we complete the account of
our travelling party. This one was a grown and tall man, quite as tall
as Don Pablo himself, but thinner and more angular in his outlines. His
coppery colour, his long straight black hair, his dark and wild piercing
eye, with his somewhat odd attire, told you at once he was of a
different race from any of the others. He was an Indian--a South
American Indian; and although a descendant from the noble race of the
Peruvian Incas, he was acting in the capacity of a servant or attendant
to Don Pablo and his family. There was a familiarity, however, between
the old Indian--for he was an old man--and Don Pablo, that bespoke the
existence of some tie of a stronger nature than that which exists
between master and servant. And such there was in reality. This Indian
had been one of the patriots who had rallied around Tupac Amaru in his
revolution against the Spaniards. He had been proscribed, captured, and
sentenced to death. He would have been executed, but for the
interference of Don Pablo, who had saved his life. Since then Guapo--
such was the Indian's name--had remain