with the well-dressed foot-passengers, as the former seemed to afford a truer index of Mexican society than the latter. I never met, for instance, a lépero, in all the picturesqueness of his tattered costume, without having a strong desire to become better acquainted with this Bohemian-like class, who reminded me frequently of the more uncommon heroes of Picaresque romance. It appeared to me a curious study to compare this filthy and ragged denizen of the great towns with the savage adventurers I had met in the woods and savannas. When I first came to live in Mexico, I sought, and succeeded in getting acquainted, through the kindness of a Franciscan monk, a friend of mine, with a thorough-bred lépero, called Perico the Zaragate.[1] Unhappily, our acquaintance had hardly commenced, when, for very good reasons, I was resolved to break it, for I only got the scantiest information from him about his class, and the number of piastres I was forced to pay him was so considerable as to induce me to reflect strongly upon the absurdity of taking such expensive lessons. I was resolved, then, to bring my studies with him to a conclusion, when, one morning, Fray Serapio, the worthy monk who had made me acquainted with Perico, entered my apartment.
"I came to ask you," said the Franciscan, "to go with me to a bull-fight at the Necatitlan Square; there will also be a Jamaica and a Monte Parnaso, which will be an additional inducement."
"What is a Jamaica and a Monte Parnaso?"
"You will know that immediately. Let us set out; it is nearly eleven, and we shall be scarcely there in time to get a good place."
I could never resist the attraction of a bull-fight,
- ↑ Zaragate, a rogue of the most dangerous kind.
