had finally been acted upon in the
Mexican Senate, before the ratifications were exchanged. Mexican
diplomacy is proverbial, and they chose the most tortuous track to gain
the goal. The delay was in some degree attributable, so said the
Government, to the absence of the official seal, and certain time
required to make proper copies and translations; but it was with equal
reason surmised, that it arose from causes relative to a division of the
first instalment of the indemnity, as a new ministry was to be elected,
and the old cared not to assume the odium of signing the Peace, without
being fortified with the assurances of their successors that they should
receive the reward of their services. But here subterfuge was
unavailing--the armistice expired on the 2d of June, and time was
flying. At length, after refusing permission for the American cavalry
and artillery to take up their line of march by land to the Northern
frontier, on the night of the 30th of May, the final signatures were
affixed to the Treaty, and an hour later, Herrera was chosen President
of the Republic.

Soon after midnight, with a copy of this document in my jacket, and a
promise, from the Secretary of War, of an escort for ten leagues, I once
more began my journey towards the Pacific Ocean.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

It was quite dark on taking my place in the diligence, but getting
comfortably seated, I heard one of the passengers inquire if there was
to be an escort; so putting my head out of the window, I asked my man
Juan if he had any idea where the troops were concealed? _No Senor, no
hay!_--not a soul to be seen. _Bueno!_ I consoled myself by being sure
of meeting them at the garita--and then we came to the gate, but never a
sabre visible! Malditos were of no avail. Senor Rosa, in a multiplicity
of _negocios_ had forgotten me! Truly, I was scared out of sleep the
first few posts, but at last my eyelids gained the day--I sailed away in
the land of dreams, and never awoke until reaching Salamanca--much
refreshed and decidedly happy not to have been rifled by ladrons.

It was four o'clock and raining heavily as we drove into the cellar, as
it were, of the sky-built city of Guanajuato. The water was bounding and
leaping down the naked sides of the hills, converting every narrow gully
into a boiling torrent, until cascades and rivulets all poured into the
deep valley beneath, and went roaring and foaming away, increasing in
bulk and impetuosity a