to disbelieve the word of
the Church. The miracle worked well. The religious enthusiasm boiled
up; and when Saint John was returned to his niche, and the little
"cofre" placed in front of him, many a "peseta", "real," and
"cuartillo," were dropped in, which would otherwise have been deposited
that night in the _monte_ bank. Nodding Saints and "winking Madonnas"
are by no means a novel contrivance of the Holy Church. The padres of
its Mexican branch have had their wonderful saints too; and even in the
almost _terra ignota_ of New Mexico can be found a few of them that have
performed as _smart_ miracles as any recorded in the whole jugglery of
the race.

A pyrotechnic display followed--and no mean exhibition of the sort
neither--for in this "art" the New Mexicans are adepts. A fondness for
"fireworks" is a singular but sure characteristic of a declining nation.

Give me the statistics of pyrotechnic powder burnt by a people, and I
shall tell you the standard measure of their souls and bodies. If the
figure be a maximum, then the physical and moral measure will be the
minimum, for the ratio is inverse.

I stood in the Place de Concorde, and saw a whole nation--its rich and
its poor--gazing on one of these pitiful spectacles, got up for the
purpose of duping them into contentment. It was the price paid them for
parting with their liberty, as a child parts with a valuable gem for a
few sugar-plums. They were gazing with a delight that seemed
enthusiasm! I looked upon scrubby, stunted forms, a foot shorter than
were their ancestors. I looked upon eyes that gleamed with demoralised
thought.

These were the representatives of a once great people, and who still
deem themselves the first of mankind. I felt sure that this was an
illusion. The pyro-spectacle and its reception convinced me that I saw
before me a people who had passed the culminating point of their
greatness, and were now gliding rapidly down the declining slope that
leads to annihilation and nothingness.

After the fireworks came the "fandango." There we meet the same faces,
without much alteration in the costumes. The senoras and senoritas
alone have doffed their morning dresses, and here and there a pretty
poblana has changed her coarse woollen "nagua" for a gay flounced
muslin.

The ball was held in the large saloon of the "Casa de Cabildo," which
occupied one side of the "Plaza." On this festival day there was no
exclusiveness. In the fr