myself. I have dismissed the guide whom my friend Don Manuel obtained for me, saying, that he was a coquin, and who appeared to me to be such in so high a degree, that I considered him quite capable of pitching me down into the subterranean river which I was going to see. I excused myself, therefore, on the plea of el vento. It blows so into my room that I cannot write any more. The paper is in a perpetual flutter.
I have had since I last wrote various small uneasinesses and misadventures, but all of which turned out for the best, and I now write to you from Madame C.'s beautiful coffee-plantation, where I am staying amid the most delightful tranquillity and cheerfulness of her lovely family.
I spent the day quite alone at San Antonio in my little posada. My room, however, although naked and bare of furniture, was clean, and Raimund, the servant of the house, was very respectful and kind, and began by degrees, out of pure good will, I believe, to understand me, and if I had not been left alone in this posada for a time, and if these little adverse circumstances had not occurred, I should not have made acquaintance with San Antonio de los Bagnos, as I have now done, and that would have been a great pity.
When I had dined on some excellent boiled beef and yams, and the day began to grow cool, I set out on a solitary ramble, having long since become hardened against the wondering glances of the screaming and skipping negro children, who always follow me at first when I go out alone.
Some palm-thatched huts, standing in a plantation-grove, at a little distance from the posada, attracted me, because I presumed them to be the dwellings of negroes; and I was not deceived in this respect, I soon found
