about twenty-five years of age, of olive complexion, classic features, six feet three inches in height, and slim and straight as a young palm tree. I never saw a finer rider—all these men ride like Centaurs—or a handsomer man. His belt buckle was of finely wrought silver, and his pistol holster and pistol, marvels of rich ornamentation in the same metal.
At Tecolapa, twelve miles from La Calera, we saw long rows of Indian women going to the well with water-jars poised on their shoulders, exactly as has been done in Palestine from the days of Jacob and Rebecca to our own day.
It is thirty-six miles from La Calera to Colima. The Government is spending a large sum in grading a wagon-road over the mountains from Colima to the sea, and the thirty miles nearest Colima are finished. But the storm had torn it up fearfully, and in many places it was almost impassable. Rain came on, and when the moon went down behind the mountains, the darkness added to the difficulty of the trip, and we went on at a snail's pace. We changed teams three times in the thirty-six miles, but it was 2 o'clock in the morning before we emerged from the long "Via de Colima" upon the well-paved streets of that fine old city, and our coach, with a rattle and uproar which awakened all the sleeping watch-men, rolled up to the door of the truly palatial mansion of Señor Huarte.
