I had just been talking with the builder of the Vera Cruz road. He had expressed fears of an attack, and as he had been long in the land, his fears were well grounded, at least to me. He had been describing how a French friend of his was lately cut to pieces on the hill we were soon to cross. So I was in an excellent condition for a fright. He had ridden ahead a rod or less, and was chatting Spanish with the conductor, Mr. Comargo. It was pitch-dark. Horsemen had been passing us quite frequently, lively with pulqui, and the bull-fight of the day. They were all in good fighting trim. Suddenly a number of them rode in among us, wheeled round their horses, and drove up to the conductor. I heard them speak his name. "It is come now, I am sure of it," I thought. These fellows are going to seize the conductor, and pistols and rifles will instantly flash and fire. As I had neither rifle nor pistol, I was not expected to take a very prominent part in the mêlée. I could see them dimly speak to the leader, and awaited the fire. It did not come. What does it mean? One second—ten—thirty elapsed, and no cry, no grapple, no shot. I turned to one of the escort at my side, and summoning up all the Spanish at my command, I said, "Nosotros ombres?" "Si, señor," was his calming reply, and the scare was over. They were gentlemen from Real del Monte, who had ridden down to escort us through the town. My escort, who said "Yes, sir," did not rebuke me for my bad Spanish. But when I got back to Mexico, and was telling the adventure to some Yankees, they laughed at my language, and said my question meant "We friends?" instead of "Our friends?" which I meant to say, and that I ought to have said, "Nuestros ombres?"
I insert this, so that if you are equally frightened you may be sure and be grammatical, otherwise your stay-at-home friends, who know just a bit more than you, and not your Spanish comrades, will be sure to make fun of you, even as those who never write a book or an article can cut up the grammar of those who do. Lindley Murray did not write Shakspeare, nor Goold Brown edit the Atlantic; but how much more they know about correct writing than mere geniuses!
