the lépero were two very distinct types. Fray Serapio finished his exhortation by administering hastily to Perico an absolution in Latin, worthy of Molière's comedies. He then said, in good Spanish,
"All you have got to do now is to ask pardon of this cavalier for having fleeced him so often, which he will willingly grant, seeing that it is very improbable that you will lay him again under contribution, at least for a long time."
The lépero turned to me, and, in as languishing a tone as he could assume,
"I am a double-dyed rascal," said he, "and shall only consider myself completely absolved if you will pardon me for the unworthy tricks that I have played upon you. I am going to die, Señor Cavalier, and I have not the wherewithal to bury me. My wife must be told of my situation, and it will be a great comfort to her if she find something in my pocket to pay for my shroud. God will reward you for it, Señor Cavalier."
"In truth," said the monk, "you can hardly refuse the poor devil this favor, as they are the last piastres he will cost you."
"God grant it!" said I, not thinking about the cruelty of the wish, and I emptied my purse into Perico's outstretched hand. He shut his eyes, let his head fall upon his breast, and said no more.
"Requiescat in pace!" said Fray Serapio; "the sports must be far advanced by this time. I can be of no farther use here."
We went out. After all, said I to myself in leaving the circus, this recital has been the most curious revelation I have yet got from the Zaragate. Such a confession as this is ample amends for the drafts upon my purse which this singular personage has made. Be-
