year, however, the impetuous squalls which usually prevail sweep away all pestilential vapors, and momentarily purify these sinks of putrefaction.
The reader may perhaps remember that, the day after the fandango at Manantial, I had set out with Calros to seek the murderer whom he had sworn to punish. On leaving the village, there were signs abroad which showed the near approach of one of those tempests caused by the north wind, termed by seamen northers. A strange, dreamy sort of languor seemed to brood over all nature; the suffocating heat caused our horses to foam and pant, although our pace was designedly slow, and our lungs sought in vain for the freshness of the morning air.
We had traveled only a few hours on a road overshadowed by trees, when a dull, hollow, rumbling noise was heard. It was the sound of waves; we were approaching the sea without being able to discover its whereabouts. A few minutes afterward we debouched upon the beach, and I could not help contemplating with delight that ocean which bathed the shores of Europe. In the distance we descried Vera Cruz, with its spires and domes, and the fort San Juan de Ulloa, that stood like a rock among the billows, above which shot the tall, slender masts of the shipping in the roads.
The state of the sea gave every indication of a tempest, of which we had recognized the first symptoms in the wood. The waves gently licked the sand; a more than usually keen smell was distinguishable; the fish were evidently uneasy, leaping high out of the water; and the sea-birds wheeled round and round in the air, uttering mournful cries. Thick clouds were already sweeping up over the town. All at once a
