he
_maguey_. The old man was rich, and owned other houses, but he lives
alone, his wife being dead and his daughters married. He is a master of
the Aztec, and uses it in its most poetical and figurative style. He
does not speak like common men, but his conversation abounds in metaphor
and flowers of speech. When once one spoke to him of his lonely and
solitary life, he said, "Alone and solitary! No, we are three! There are
here myself, my good angel, and my bad angel. I am never alone." Isidro
knows all the boundaries of the fields, and can trace all the titles,
and is frequently appealed to in land disputes, and even in law cases,
is summoned to give testimony. He received us heartily, offered
cigarettes and ordered supper. To refresh us, he broke fresh leaves from
the orange-tree and steeped them in hot water, sweetening with sugar.
After supper, good beds were made upon the floor, with plenty of mats
and blankets.

We had hardly risen in the morning, when the village was thrown into
great excitement by the appearance of a band of soldiers. They had come
to arrest a young man supposed to be a leader in the local opposition to
Governor Cahuantzi. This opposition was just at fever heat; the election
was approaching, and a fierce effort was being made to oust the
governor. Forty-four towns were in open rebellion, among them, all of
those which we had visited. There had been new laws passed regarding
land and taxes; these had been resisted. The governor had threatened
to send engineers to make new surveys, and to bring land-titles into
question. The suspicion and distrust which we had met were doubtless, in
large part, due to these measures, and the fear that we were government
spies. So great was the discontent, and so openly expressed, that it was
said that on the Saturday preceding, in the Plaza of Tlaxcala itself,
there was a riot, with cries of derision and contempt, and firing of
guns upon the palace. We were told that the nearest _haciendero_, who
was friendly to the governor, was marked for assassination and would be
killed within the next few days.

Leaving at ten next morning, we skirted Santa Ana, and, having passed
through San Pablo, came out upon the banks of the Sawapa. This pretty
stream has reputed remedial power, and in May hundreds of people bathe
in its waters, to protect themselves against small-pox. As we crossed
the great stone bridge, we met a drunken indian who attached himself to
our party. Betw