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14
PERICO, THE MEXICAN VAGABOND.

mense glasses filled with beverages of all the colors in the rainbow, red, green, blue, and yellow. The mob in the palcos de sol snuffed up greedily the nauseous smell of the fat pork, while others, more lucky, seated in this improvised elysium, under the shade of the trees, discussed pates of the wild duck of the lakes.

"Look!" said the Franciscan, pointing with his finger to the throng seated at the tables in the ring; "that's what we call a Jamaica".

"And that?" said I, showing him a tree five or six yards high, fixed in the ground, with all its leaves, in the middle of the arena, quite covered with handkerchiefs of every hue, which fluttered from the branches.

"That is a Monte Parnaso," said the Franciscan.

"Probably poets are to ascend it?"

"No; but léperos, and such like uneducated persons which—will be a great deal more diverting."

The monk had hardly given me this answer, which but half enlightened me, when cries of toro, toro, from the rabble in the palcos de sol became louder and more overpowering; the pastry cooks' booths and the puestos were suddenly deserted; the revelers were suddenly interrupted by the sudden rush of a band of léperos from the highest boxes round the inclosure, who, sliding down by means of their cloaks, made a terrific onslaught on the green booths inside. Among the crowd who were yelling and kicking down the booths, and strewing the whole ring with their remains, I recognized my old friend Perico. Indeed, without him the fête would have been incomplete. The Monte Parnaso, with its cotton handkerchiefs, stood alone in the midst of the wreck, and soon became the only object to which the looks and aims of the rabble were directed. All tried to be the first to ascend the tree, and