The fondness for meddlesome gossip and scandal is unusually rife in Mexico; for the people are idle, and, therefore, very mischievous. Besides this, there is more food for scandal than could be the case in more enlightened nations,—priestly confessions and duplicity, references and intercommunications, having undermined all prudent reserve.
A story, that came to my knowledge in connection with an unfortunate and persecuted family, will serve to illustrate this habit.
One fine March morning, the good people residing in the street San Martin, of the town of Perote, were startled by the appearance of four mules, two abreast, and a group of strange figures, all advancing very quietly between the irregular rows of strong castellated little houses peculiar to the vicinity. The human portion of the procession consisted of eight persons,—a rather tall, well-looking man, the father of the family, by whose side walked the muleteer with whom he was talking; followed by a sprightly youth about seventeen, hand in hand with his sister, a blooming, handsome girl, a year younger; and a vagrant urchin not more than ten years old, very like his father, who was thwacking the
