ed the suburbs to walk in the middle of the road, as well to see all who were approaching, as to avoid the angles in the wall that might shelter ambuscades. I arrived without accident at the Guadaloupe gate, some times smiling at my terrors, sometimes shuddering at some sudden noise. The night, was very dark, and the July rains were already announced by a thick fog, the moisture of which rendered the pavement slippery.
"Shall we soon be there?" I asked of the soldier, when we came to the gate.
"Immediately," he replied.
A drizzling rain succeeded the fog. We soon arrived at a road which ran between the lakes, without the soldier showing any signs of having reached the end of his journey. A thick mist, which hovered over the water, hid the two snowy peaks of the volcanoes which cap the Cordilleras. At last I perceived at some distance the lighted windows of a small house, and very soon a confused sound of voices reached my ear. Arrived at the house, the soldier tapped with his bayonet, and the door opened. He entered first with out any ceremony, and motioned me to follow him. Under any other circumstances, I should have seen nothing very extraordinary in this invitation; but my ideas having been running on ambuscades for the last month, I hesitated about penetrating into such a cut throat looking place. A voice that I knew put an end to my hesitation: it was that of the Lieutenant Don Blas, who was conversing with his asistente about the result of his mission. All my fears then vanished, and I entered. At the same time Don Blas sprang to meet me, and pressed me in his arms with all a Mexican's warmth. After the first compliments had passed, he led me through a room (crowded with men of
