trembled lest, even in his dreams, a
thought of impiety might reach the ear of a familiar, history could
always be made to conform to the interests of the Church.

Since the records of the Spanish Inquisition have become the property
of the public, and the manner in which the facts of history were
trifled with is now understood, it is a question more easily asked than
answered, Who wrote such and such a book?

WHO WROTE BERNAL DIAZ?

Who, then, wrote the history of Bernal Diaz? We have seen that it cuts
down the monstrous exaggerations of Cortez more than a half, yet we
shall see that the statements of Diaz are still incredible. It is a
very religious book, as the Spaniards understand the word religion, and
reflects great credit on the Church. But, with the slight evidence we
have presented, no one would charge the work with being altogether a
fiction, and Bernal Diaz a myth. All that can be said is, that we are
left in that state of uncertainty in which every one finds himself who
looks into a record that was within the control of the Inquisitorial
censors.

Our stage-ride has been forgotten in discussing historical questions;
and while we have been dwelling upon Cortez and Bernal Diaz, we have
crossed the plain, and been climbing the heights of Rio Frio, and now
we begin to catch glances of the valley and of the city of Mexico--a
city and valley so renowned in history and tradition, that it seems
more like a city of the Old World than a town in the interior of the
continent that Columbus discovered. Truly it is an old city. It was an
old city before Columbus was born--an old city in a new world. It is
one of the links that binds the present age to ages long past and
almost forgotten--a city where the present and the past are strangely
mingled together. In its streets are "penitents," wandering, in
sackcloth and sandals, with a downcast look and a rope for
self-castigation, among soldiers in new French uniforms and ladies in
the latest Paris fashions. This is not the time for a favorable view of
the valley from this point. To see it in its full glory, we must look
upon it at sunrise.

[16] Folsom's _Letters of Cortez_, p. 49.

[17] _Bernal Diaz._ Lockhart's translation. London, 1844.
Vol. i. p. 157.

[18] "We buried our dead in one of the subterranean
dwellings."--_Diaz_, vol. i. p. 152.

[19] _Letters_, p. 61.

[20] _Bernal Diaz_, vol. i. p. 179.

[21] Vo