oon after nightfall the twinkling lights of
Madelena were visible, and we trotted into the Meson. The neighborhood
had become quiet since my departure; the compadres dispersed, and the
paisanos had thrown aside the weapons they dared not use. It was too
late for a call upon the Alcalde, and my venerable guide ordered supper.
The patron of the inn was not an obliging person--not anxious to add to
the comforts of his guests. He had a pair of daughters flitting about
the yard in loose undress, who busied themselves for an hour in the
attempt to boil eggs to my liking; but after the fifteenth trial, some
as hard as brickbats, and others hardly warmed, the effort was
relinquished, and I contented myself with the national dish of frijoles,
which is ever an excellent preparation, and invariably well cooked.
Meanwhile, the surly patron kept a lynx-eyed supervision upon the
erratic damsels; and they never came near the bench, laid for our
supper, without he would snatch the dish from their fair hands, and,
with a rough push, cry "_Basta! basta! muchacha! anda!_ Be off with
you." Old Cypriano lost patience at last; and seizing his lance, swore
by the Holy Virgin if he did not know how to treat a cavallero, who
spent his cash like a king, he'd teach him--he would! These threats had
the desired effect; and calling off his handmaidens, he sent them to the
_cocina_, sat down before the door, and left us in peace. I remained at
the Meson until daylight, reclining on a large rough-built settee in the
patio, with no other covering than a comfortable serapa between my body
and a canopy of stars: certainly preferable to the close, damp holes
within the building, where fleas and vermin parade in battalions on the
look-out for wayworn travellers. Moreover, nothing can exceed the
delicious atmosphere of the nights, in the _Tierra templada_ of Mexico,
soft, yet invigorating--clear, calm and refreshing. I speak, of course,
of the dry season--with the rains one must seek a more modern
habitation.

My venerable soldier had the _pinto_, grinding his last mouthful of
grain beside me, ready for a start. I arose, as the sailors say, wide
awake as a black fish, and swung into the saddle. _Vayase con Dios_--go
to heaven, or the other place, just as the intonation implies--said the
grum inn keeper. _Hasta nunca_--hope never to see your ugly phiz
again--retorted Cypriano, as he gripingly counted out the rials for our
entertainment; I threw something mor