on frustrated; but the poor cura was more to be pitied than any
of us. His unlucky visit to Uxmal had brought upon him three infermos,
with the prospect every day of a fourth. His convent was turned into a
hospital; but the more claims we made upon him, the more he exerted
himself to serve us. I could not but smile, when speaking to Doctor
Cabot of his kindness, as the latter, rolling and tossing with fever,
replied, that if the cura had any squint-eyed friends, he could cure
them.

The cura watched the doctor carefully, but without venturing to offer
advice to a medico who could cure biscos, but the third day he alarmed
me by the remark that the expression of the doctor's face was _fatal_.
In Spanish this only means very bad, but it had always in my ears an
uncomfortable sound. The cura added that there were certain indices of
this disease which were mortal, but, happily, these had not yet
exhibited themselves in the doctor. The bare suggestion, however,
alarmed me. I inquired of the cura about the mode of treatment in the
country, and whether he could not prescribe for him. Doctor Cabot had
never seen anything of this disease, particularly as affected by
climate. Besides, he was _hors de combat_ on account of the absence of
our medicine-chest, and in such constant pain and delirium that he was
in no condition to prescribe for himself.

The cura was the temporal as well as spiritual physician of the
village; there were daily applications to him for medicine, and he was
constantly visiting the sick. Doctor Cabot was willing to put himself
entirely into his hands, and he administered a preparation which I
mention for the benefit of future travellers who may be caught without
a medicine-chest. It was a simple decoction of the rind of the sour
orange flavoured with cinnamon and lemon-juice, of which he
administered a tumblerful warm every two hours. At the second draught
the doctor was thrown into a profuse perspiration. For the first time
since his attack the fever left him, and he had an unbroken sleep. On
waking, copious draughts of tamarind water were given; when the fever
came on again the decoction was repeated, with tamarind water in the
intervals. The effect of this treatment was particularly happy, and it
is desirable for strangers to know it, for the sour orange is found in
every part of the country, and from what we saw of it then and
afterward, it is, perhaps, a better remedy for fever in that climate
than an