many opportunities of satisfying itself in Mexico, once more made me forget my troubles.
We had not walked ten minutes, till, as the sereno had told us, we came to a bridge thrown over a narrow canal. Some dilapidated houses bathed their greenish bases in the thick muddy water. A lamp which burned dimly before a picture of the souls in Purgatory threw its livid reflex on the stagnant water. On the terraces the watch-dogs bayed at the moon, which was sometimes hidden, sometimes fringed only by a movable curtain of clouds, for it was the rainy season. Except those doleful sounds, all was silent there as in the other parts of the town that we had traversed. The windows in the first story, brightly lighted up opposite the picture of the souls in Purgatory, were the only things remarkable in this double row of melancholy-looking huts. Perico knocked at the door of the house with the illuminated windows. They were rather long in coming; at last the door half opened, one of the leaves being fastened as usual by an iron chain.
"Who is there?" said a man's voice.
"Friends who come to pray for the dead and rejoice with the living," said Perico, without hesitation.
We entered. Lighted by the porter's lantern, we passed through a porch and entered an inner court. The guide pointed out to Perico an iron ring let into the wall. I tied my horse up by the bridle; we ascended some twenty steps, and I entered, preceded by Perico, a room tolerably well lighted up. I was at last going to learn what a velorio was.
