was invited to a "wake." Having never attended one, I accepted the
invitation. At one end of the room stood a large table, and upon it
the body of a child two years old. On its head was a wreath of
flowers. The child was dressed in white; in its tiny hands was a
bouquet of flowers; the feet were encased in small white slippers;
lighted candles surrounded the body. At either end of the table were
several old women, who were employed by the family as mourners, and
they kept up a continual low moaning sound. Occasionally they would
stop to partake of wine, and start again, more dismal than ever. The
room was large and on each side were seated ladies and gentlemen
talking and laughing and seemingly enjoying themselves. The parents of
the dead child appeared to have surpassed the expectations of their
friends and made a great success of the "wake."

There is a custom in Peru that when several persons are gathered
together there is constant drinking. A large bottle of wine or
whiskey is placed on the table with one glass. A lady or gentleman
will fill the glass and drink to the health of some one present. It is
bad form to leave any liquor in the glass, so it is always drained,
refilled and presented to the one whose health has been drunk. It is
an insult to refuse to drink, after one has drank to your health and
the person accepting the glass drinks to the health of some one else.
In this manner the glass is constantly on the move. On this occasion,
the wine was on the table with the corpse.

About one o'clock in the morning not seeing any disposition on the
part of the guests to retire, I bade our friends good night.

I had barely reached the street when I heard firing and saw people
running. Suddenly there came a volley of musketry, and a woman dropped
dead a few feet in front of me. Almost immediately the streets were
deserted, but I could hear the cries of "Vivia Pierola," and I knew
another revolution had broken out.

VIII.

VIVA GENERALISSIMO PIEROLA.

I did not do anything for the woman. Shot through the heart, she was
past all aid. I made a dash into a by-street, intending to reach the
station, get my engine ready and go to Ilo to prevent the insurgents
from using the road to transport their troops. But I ran into an
officer's arms before I had gone a block. He had been looking for me
all night, and told me I was his prisoner. I was to be taken before
Senor Pierola. Meantime I was to be treated with e