bridge are the ruins of Santa Anna's hacienda, and along the road beyond on both sides of it, we passed numerous black crosses, erected over the graves of murdered men, buried where they fell. Forty miles on our journey brought us to Rinconada, where the mules were changed for the second time, and where a good breakfast was served.
In this small, out-of-the-way place, a sight greeted my eyes that rendered me for the moment speechless. I have already spoken of the great influx of engineers into this country; they crowded every steamer, and worried the lives out of every officer on board by criticisms of the management of the machinery. Having seen these knights of the theodolite on board ship,