with him. Their great difficulty was to keep him quiet. Unable to remain inactive in the city, he marched toward San Salvador, for the ostensible purpose of attacking General Morazan. The Centralists were in a state of great anxiety; Carrera's success or his defeat was alike dangerous to them. If defeated, Morazan might march directly upon the city, and take signal vengeance upon them; if successful, he might return with his barbarians so intoxicated by victory as to be utterly uncontrollable. A little circumstance shows the position of things. Carrera's mother, an old woman well known as a huckster on the plaza, died. Formerly it was the custom with the higher classes to bury in vaults constructed within the churches, but from the time of the cholera, all burials, without distinction, were forbidden in the churches, and even within the city, and a campo santo was established outside the town, in which all the principal families had vaults. Carrera signified his pleasure that his mother should be buried in the Cathedral! The government charged itself with the funeral, issued cards of invitation, and all the principal inhabitants followed in the procession. No efforts were spared to conciliate and keep him in good temper; but he was subject to violent bursts of passion, and, it was said, had cautioned the members of the government at such moments not to attempt to argue with him, but to let him have his own way. Such was Carrera, at the time of my visit, more absolute master of Guatimala than any king in Europe of his dominions, and by the fanatic Indians called el Hijo de Dios, (the Son of God,) and nuestro Señor, (our Lord).
When I entered the room he was sitting at a table counting sixpenny and shilling pieces. Colonel Monte Rosa, a dark Mestitzo, in a dashing uniform, was sitting by his side, and several other persons were in the room. He was about five feet six inches in height, with straight black hair, an Indian complexion and expression, without beard, and did not seem to be more than twenty-one years old. He wore a black bombazet roundabout jacket and pantaloons. He rose as we entered, pushed the money on one side of the table, and, probably out of respect to my coat, received me with courtesy, and gave me a chair at his side. My first remark was an expression of surprise at his extreme youth; he answered that he was but twenty-three years old; certainly he was not more than twenty-five; and then, as a man conscious that he was something extraordinary, and that I knew it, without waiting for any leading questions, he continued, that he had begun (he did not say what) with thirteen men armed with old muskets, which they were obliged to fire with cigars; pointed to eight places in which he had been wounded; and said that he had three balls then in his body. At this time
