ne filled with books, odd numbers of
magazines, and old newspapers, and the other containing a multitude of
vials, pots, and bottles of medicine--a small apothecary's shop, in
fact, together with two or three cases of surgical instruments. Two
elegant bureaus, with rosewood doors and mouldings, like those furnished
passenger ships to the East Indies, stood against the wall at either
side; and near to each, in opposite corners, were low iron bedsteads,
without mattresses or bedding, and merely stretched with dressed and
embossed leather. For pillows were Chinese heel stools, and as for
covering, the climate dispensed with it altogether. Hanging against the
wall were a couple of brace of pistols and two or three muskets, and on
the table stood a square case-bottle of gin, some glasses, and a
richly-bound breviary clasped with a heavy gold strap; but in no other
part of these huts were fire-arms ever allowed, and very rarely was
liquor served out in more than the usual daily half-gill allowance.

Seated at the table in the last room we have described were two men.
One, the shorter of the two, was dressed in a long, loose bombazine
cassock, girded about his waist by a white rope, which fell in knotted
ends over his knees. Around his open neck was hung a string of black
ebony beads, hooked on to a heavy gold cross, which rested on his
capacious breast, and which the wearer was continually feeling, and
occasionally pressing to his lips. His face was dark and sensual--thick,
unctuous lips, a flat nose, and large black eyes--while a glossy fringe
of raven hair went like a thick curtain all around his head, only
leaving a bluish-white round patch on the shaved crown. This individual
was the Padre Ricardo, who, for some good reasons best known to himself,
had left his clerical duties in his native city of Vera Cruz and taken
service with Captain Brand. One of the reasons for leaving--and rather
abruptly, too--was for thrusting a cuchillo into the heart of his own
father, who had reported him to his superior for his monstrous
licentiousness. The padre, however, always declared that he was
actuated entirely by filial duty in killing his old parent, to save him
the pain and disgrace which would have followed the exposure of his son!
He still clung, though excommunicated, to the priestly calling, and
prided himself upon his fasts and vigils, never omitting the smallest
forms or penances, and saying mass from Ave Maria in the early mor