een abandoned. No
doubt the road they had been following once led to some such settlement
that had long since fallen into ruin.

It is a melancholy fact that the Spanish-Americans--including the
Mexican nation--have been retrograding for the last hundred years.
Settlements which they have made, and even large cities built by them,
are now deserted and in ruins; and extensive tracts of country, once
occupied by them, have become uninhabited, and have gone back to a state
of nature. Whole provinces, conquered and peopled by the followers of
Cortez and Pizarro, have within the last fifty years been retaken from
them _by the Indians_: and it would be very easy to prove, that had the
descendants of the Spanish conquerors, been left to themselves, another
half century would have seen them driven from that very continent which
their forefathers so easily conquered and so cruelly kept. This
re-conquest on the part of the Indian races was going on in a wholesale
way in the northern provinces of Mexico. But it is now interrupted by
the approach of another and stronger race from the East--the
Anglo-American.

To return to our travellers. Don Pablo was not surprised that the road
had run out. He had been expecting this for miles back. What was to be
done? Of course they must halt for that night at least. Indeed it was
already near camping-time. The sun was low in the sky, and the animals
were all much jaded. The llamas could not have gone much farther. They
looked as if they should never go farther. The heat of the climate--it
had been getting warmer every hour--was too much for them. These
animals, whose native home is among the high cool mountain valleys, as
already observed, cannot live in the low tropical plains. Even as they
descended the Sierras they had shown symptoms of suffering from the heat
during all that day. Their strength was now fairly exhausted.

The party halted. A little open space was chosen for the camp. The
animals were relieved of their burdens and tied to the trees, lest they
might stray off and be lost in the thick woods. A fire was kindled, and
part of the vicuna meat cooked for supper.

It was not yet night when they had finished eating, and all were seated
on the ground. The countenance of the father was clouded with a
melancholy expression. Dona Isidora sat by his side and tried to cheer
him, endeavouring to force a smile into her large black eyes. The little
Leona, with her head resting on her moth