smoker taking half a dozen whiffs, this they
called hubble-bubble.

It may be wondered how, in such a rough
land, with bad care, little corn, and an
atmosphere unfavourable to violent exercise, we were
able to do our work. The secrets were two;
first, we were lightly laden, carrying only two
hundred pounds, including the saddle, in place
of the three hundred generally borne in Spain;
secondly, when a mule fell dead there were
always others at hand to take his place.

Immense numbers of us died on the wayside,
or were put out of pain by a pistol-shot
through the brain. On my homeward journey,
I saw within a few hundred yards of the ridge
of each mountain we traversed the corpses of
at least twenty of my kind, and five or six in
most of the small streams we crossed. There
scarcely was a mile of road in which I did not
see half-a-dozen carcases.

THE DIVERSIONS OF LA SOLEDAD.

THE Imperial Mexican railway, in the year
1864, was in its infancy. The entire line of
route had been carefully surveyed, and beautifully
mapped out; all engineering difficulties had
been disposed of, on paper, and vast numbers
of labourers were employed on cuttings and
embankments, but nine-tenths of the line yet
remained to be made. A considerable impetus
had been given to all kinds of industry in the
normally distracted country just then. The
unfortunate Maximilian had accepted the crown
from the commission of Mexican " notables"
who waited on him at Miramar; and General
Almonte had been appointed president of a
Council of Regency until " El Principe," as the
emperor elect was called, should arrive. As
for Don Benito Juarez, he was nobody, and, in
sporting parlance, might be said to be "nowhere."
He was supposed to be hiding his
diminished head in the neighbourhood of
Brownsville, on the frontier of Texas, and I
have heard him spoken of innumerable times
by Mexican politicians (who are, I dare say, very
ardent Juarists by this time), in the most
contemptuous terms. The mildest epithet with
which he was qualified was "El Indio," the
Indian: President Juarez having scarcely any
European blood in his veins. More frequently
he was called " the bandit," or the " banished
despot."

So everything looked very bright and hopeful
in Mexico; a strong French force occupying the
country; and the railway (which was already
open for traffic as far as La Soledad) was being
pushed forward towards Paso de Macho. We
jogged along pretty steadily in our omnibus
car; but, until we reached a place called Manga
de Clavo, I thought that Mexico must be the
counterpart of the Egyptian desert. For miles
the line was skirted by sandhills. There
were more sandhills in the middle distance,
and the extreme horizon was bounded by sandhills;
the whole of which, illumined by a
persistently ferocious sunshine, offered the
reverse of an  encouraging prospect. Luckily
there was no sirocco, or the sand would have
invaded the carriage and choked us.

But with magical rapidity the scene changed,
and the desert bloomed into fruitfulness amazing.
The train plunged into a densely wooded country.
We saw thick clumps of trees spangled with
blossoms or bending under the load of bright
hued tropical fruits; the foreground was literally
one parterre of variegated flowers, and the
" cow-catcher" of the engine scattered roses
as we marched. I began to warm into
enthusiasm. We hurried by palm trees, cocoa-nut
trees, lemon and orange groves, and forests
of the banana. That tree with its broad bloodstained
leaves, and its body reft and bent by
the last hurricane and the last rainstorm, swaying
and bulging, but abating not one jot of its
ruby ruddiness, should furnish a potent liquor;
but the fruit of the banana is in reality very
mild and suave; conveying to the mind, in its
dulcet mawkishness, the idea of sweet shaving
paste. It is most tolerable when fried, and
served as a savoury dish. And here I may
remark that the majority of tropical fruits are
productive of most grievous disappointment
when eaten. From the shaddock downward, I
don't think I met any which caused me to think
disparagingly of the grand avenue at Covent
Garden in London, or of the Marché St. Honoré
in Paris. Abnormal size is the principal
characteristic of tropical fruits. They are intensely
sweet; but the saccharine matter has an ugly
propensity to turn acid on the stomach and kill
you. The flavour is generally flaccid and insipid.
From this general censure must be always
excepted the sweet lemon— not the lime — a most
exquisitely toothsome fruit.

Ever and anon, in the density of this new
and delicious landscape, there would occur an
opening, revealing a little valley vividly green,
studded with flowers, and perchance with a
few scattered wigwams built of palm branches
and thatched with palm leaves. The Indian
women in their simple costume—almost invariably
consisting of two articles, a chemise of
coarse white cotton-cloth called "manta" and
a narrow petticoat-skirt of red and black, or
black and yellow striped stuff—looked, at a
distance, picturesque enough. Round about all
the palm-branch wigwams there were seen to
be sprawling groups of Indian piccaninnies of
the precise hue of roast fowls well done. Their
costume was even more simple than that of
their mammas. Mexican scenery, save where
the massive mountain passes intervene, is one
continuous alternation. Now comes a belt so
many miles broad of wonderful fertility. Indian
corn — the stalks as tall as beadle's staves, the
cobs as large as cricket bats—oranges, lemons,
bananas, sugar, coffee, cotton, rice, cinnamon,
nutmegs, and all manner of spices. Then, for
many more miles, you have a belt of absolute
barrenness, a mere sandy desert. What I saw
of Mexico reminded me of a tiger's skin—dull
yellow desert barred with rich dark brown