each side simultaneously, causing a rapid see-saw motion, not agreeable to riders generally. The saddles are modifications of the Mexican saddle, with high peaks, over which are thrown gaudily colored sheepskins, here called “pillons,” or “pellons.” The equipment is not complete without a pair of holsters and pistols; and a Nicaraguan “caballero” is never so much in his element as when mounted on a spirited, champing horse, with a fanciful “pillon,” jingling bit, and portentous spurs, his sombrero, covered with oiled silk, set jauntily on the side of his head, with a señora or two in a neighboring balcony to whom he may lift his hat as he passes by. The ordinary saddle, or “albarda,” is a very cheap affair, and will hardly admit of a description which shall be comprehensible to the uninitiated reader. It is sometimes used from preference, but my experience would never lead me to recommend it to any but an inveterate enemy. The road to the Malaccas passed through an unbroken forest, into which we struck almost as soon as we left the city. It was level, completely arched over with trees, whose dense foliage shuts off the sun; while cactuses, and shrubs whose fragrant flowers almost compensated for the thorns which pricked one’s legs, and scratched one’s hands in endeavoring to pluck them, fenced in the path with a wall of verdure. Here and there we caught glimpses of the lake through a vista of trees, while at intervals, narrow, well-beaten paths branched off to the “hattos” and haciendas which were scattered over the country, away from the principal thoroughfares. We met men and boys driving or riding mules loaded with corn, _sacate_ (grass), fruits, wood, and all the various articles of common use in the city, and occasionally a woman going in with a basket of chickens, sausages, coffee, or cacao, to be offered the next morning in the market. The entire stock, in some instances, was hardly worth a _medio_ (sixpence), but this, it should be remembered, is no insignificant sum, in a country where a _rial_ (twelve and a half cents) is the daily wages of a working man. All these people bowed with the grace of courtiers as we rode by; for all, from the highest to the lowest, from the little Indian boy who clasps his hands before him and says “buena dia, señor,” to the lady who inclines her fan to her lips in token of recognition, have an apparently instinctive sense of politeness.