daylight, and I found Tequilla
quite a large place: with picturesque church, clusters of fine trees,
all snugly posed in a bowl-like valley--fertile and well watered, with
extensive plantations of the _argave_ extending far as the eye could
compass, over the neighboring country.

Whilst a relay of horses were being sent for, the landlord of the meson
accompanied me to a running brook, where I cooled my jolted
frame--swallowed a bowl of coffee, lit a cigar, and learned that we were
the first travellers who had passed in five days, and that a detachment
of cavalry was hourly looked for, to dislodge the rogues near Madelena.
Feeling now indifferent about the matter, we got into the saddle, and
once more gave spur towards our destination. The road was tolerable, the
horses were better, and the country became more populous. Once the
grateful steam of fried fish involuntarily caused me to halt for a hasty
breakfast; but it was only for a moment--when on we rushed, up hill and
down slope, splashing over water-courses--passing huge, ungainly carts,
with hewn timber wheels, creaking and groaning to market, while vehicles
also of a more modern build lumbered slowly along, with six or eight
mules ahead. Then I doffed my sombrero to a gay young officer in advance
of a well-appointed troop of cavalry, and, with horses white with foam,
we dismounted at the outer garita of Guadalajara. It was a small village
and military post, seven leagues from the city, having a great stone
arch and gateway commanding the road. Another relay, and an hour's
gallop brought the spires and towers of the goodly town in
sight--standing in the midst of an immense plain, and watered by a
branch of the Rio Grande. Passing through a town, with a noble church
and convent, we crossed the river by a substantial stone bridge, where
stood statues of Santa Anna and other patriots, with their noses knocked
off, and faces otherwise scarified. After being detained for inspection
at a guardhouse, we entered the city proper, through long lines of paved
streets, until we pulled up in front of the palace, at the house of Don
Domingo Llamas, to whom I had letters.

CHAPTER XXXI.

Guadalajara is a beautiful city, of an hundred thousand people, laid out
in broad, regular streets, with solid and imposing houses, painted
outside gaily in frescoes--and plazas, fountains, shady alamedas, richly
adorned churches, and fine public buildings. It is the capital of the
pop