frica in Slave-ships.--A curious old
Book.--Our Monk arrives at Vera Cruz, and what befalls him there.--Life
in a Convent.--A nice young Prior.--Our Monk finds himself in another
World.

It was a stormy evening in the month of November, 1853, when the noble
steamship _Texas_ cast anchor in the open roadstead of Vera Cruz,
under the lee of the low island on which stands the famous fortress of
San Juan de Ulua. Hard by lay a British vessel ready to steam out into
the teeth of the storm, as soon as the officers should receive from us
a budget of newspapers. We were too late to obtain a permit to land
that evening, so that we lay tossing at our anchors all night, and
until the sun and the shore-boats appeared together on the morning
following.

VERA CRUZ.

The finest view of Vera Cruz is from the harbor; and the best time to
look upon it is when a bright sun, just risen above a watery horizon,
is reflected back from the antiquated domes and houses, which are
visible above the old massive city wall.

Soon we were in one of the canoes alongside, and were quickly
transported to the mole, on which we landed, among bales of cotton and
bundles of freight that encumbered it. The iron gate of the city was
now opened, and we passed through it, mixed up in the crowd of
bare-footed "cargadores" or porters, who were carrying upon their backs
bales of cotton, and depositing them in various piles in front of the
custom-house. How quietly and quickly these cargadores do their work!
and what great power of muscle they have acquired by long application
at this laborious calling!

[Illustration: VERA CRUZ.]

What a contrast does this city present to New Orleans, which we had
left only four days before! Instead of the noise and bustle of a
commercial emporium, all here is as quiet and as cleanly as a
church-yard. Even the chiming of bells for the dying and the dead,
which so incessantly disturbs the living by night and day in the season
of the "vomito" or yellow fever, is no longer heard, for it is the
healthy season--the season of "Northers." The only noise is the little
bells upon the necks of the donkeys, that are carrying about kegs of
water for family use. The chain-gang have completed their morning task
of cleansing the streets and gutters, and as they are led away to their
breakfast, a clank now and then of their chain reminds the traveler
that crime has been as busy here as in more bustling cities. Morning
mass is over, a