LETTER THE TWENTY-FIRST.
San Agustin — The gambling fête. — The beauties of the village — The road from Mexico — Entry to San Agustin — The gambling houses — San Antonio — The Pedregal — Last day of the fête — The Cock-pit — The Boxes — The Cock-fight — Decorum — Comparisons — Dinner — Ball at Calvario — House of General Moran — View of the gambling tables — The Advocate — Ball at the Plaza de Gallos — Return to Mexico — Reflections — Conversation between two Ministers
Since my last letter we have been at San Agustin de las Cuevas, which, when I last saw it, was a deserted village, but which during three days in the year, presents the appearance of a vast bee-hive or ant-hill. San Agustin! At the name how many hearts throb with emotion! How many hands are mechanically thrust into empty pockets! How many visions of long-vanished golden ounces flit before aching eyes! What faint crowing of wounded cocks! What tinkling of guitars and blowing of horns come upon the ear! Some indeed there be, who can look round upon their well-stored hacienda and easy rolling carriages, and remember the day when with threadbare coat, and stake of three modest ounces, they first courted Fortune's favors; and, who being then indigent and enjoying an indifferent reputation, found themselves, at the conclusion of a few successive San Agustins, the fortunate propri-
