There was great anxiety for the arrival of the commander-in-chief of the forces of the State, General Muñoz, with reinforcements, and we were amused for a week with rumors that he had just started from Leon with a thousand men,—was within two days’ march,—and then that he had not started at all, that there was trouble in other departments,—in short, the city was in a fever, and full of reports; to which, after a few days, we ceased to listen, or listened only to laugh at them. We almost concurred with the Señorita Teresa in the wish that Somoza or General Muñoz would come,—she didn’t care much which; for in either case this chronic state of alarm would be terminated. Upon the whole, she would rather prefer that the General should arrive, for he was the most polished man in the country, and withal would bring his military band, and then there would be no end to the evening music in the plaza, and the “_tertúlias_” and balls afterwards! Between baths in the lake at early dawn, delicious snoozes in hammocks at noon, rides on the beach in the evening, dinners, visits, and a general overhauling of books, papers, and baggage, time passed rapidly and pleasantly enough for a week. During that period, I had put our sick countryman in funds, and he had started from Los Cocos, at the head of the lake, in a bongo owned at San Juan, for that port, there to wait a vessel for the United States. He came one afternoon to bid us good-bye, and as I looked in his pale face, momentarily flushed with the excitement of starting for home and friends, and heard his low, weak voice, I could not help thinking that the poor fellow would never reach his native land, and little supposed then that I should ever see him or hear from him again. But what was our surprise when, some five or six days thereafter, he came trotting into the court on a sorry mule, and in most woful plight. His eyes were very large, and his whole appearance that of a man who bears important news. He did not wait to be questioned, but started off at once with “I’ve seen him, I’ve seen Somoza!” His voice had all come back again. We got the whole of the story directly, told with a _naïveté_ and earnestness which in themselves, apart from the incidents, were convulsing. He had embarked in a small bongo, with a colored gentleman, his wife, and two children, as passengers,—catalogued in the recital as “an old nigger, a fat wench, and two naked picaninnies.” The narrow _chopa_ he had the satisfaction of sharing with these pleasant companions; but after one night’s trial, he had arranged that he might occupy it alone in the afternoons, on condition that his fellow-passengers should have exclusive possession of it the rest of the time. The second night, therefore, he watched the stars and kicked his heels in the bow, and had only just commenced his afternoon’s lease on the succeeding day, and began dreaming of home, when he was aroused by a great commotion and loud words. He found the