peech, sometimes read from a written copy, after which he presented
a bouquet of flowers, real or artificial. The governor received the
bouquet with a bow, placed the flowers on a little table near by, or, if
the gift were a large bouquet of real flowers, handed it to one of the
attendants standing near, and then made a polite speech of response,
emphasizing it with vigorous gestures and plainly expressive of much
interest and earnestness. The delegation then took its leave, always
bowing reverently, and each man kissing the governor's hand as he passed
out. As he received this mark of respect, the governor would make a
playful remark, or pat the persons on the head, or otherwise treat
them as a father might his little children. Instantly the flowers were
cleared away, the next delegation ushered in, and the same ceremony
gone through with. Finally, all was ready for our leaving. The party
consisted of five persons--myself, as leader, Mr. Lang, my American
photographer, Don Anselmo, my Mexican plaster-worker, Manuel, and the
_mozo_. All but the _mozo_ were mounted on horses, more or less good or
bad. The _mozo_, Mariano, a Mixtec indian, went on foot, carrying the
photographic outfit on his back, and our measuring-rod in his hand.
It was well on in the afternoon before we started, and hardly were we
outside the town, before Mr. Lang's horse showed signs of sickness. His
suffering was plain, and every person we met volunteered the information
that unless something was done promptly, we should have a dead horse on
our hands. Going to a little shop on the roadside, where strong drinks
were sold, we stopped, and after preparing a remedy with the help of a
passing Indian, threw the horse down, wedged his mouth open, and gave
him what seemed to be an unsavory draught. More than an hour was lost
out of our already short afternoon by this veterinary practice, and long
before we reached Etla, where we were compelled to pass the night, it
was dark.

Leaving Etla in the morning, looking down as we passed out from the city
upon a wonderful group of mounds, we passed rather slowly through the
town of Huitzo. Don Anselmo and I loitered, as we found the whole
country to be rich in ancient relics, examples of which were to be found
in almost every house. As the afternoon passed, we found that we were
likely to be completely left by our companions, and were forced to
hasten on. The latter part of the daylight ride was up a continuous, an