Hark, a bell! the sound vibrating even into the depths of the leafy forest! It is the _oracion_, and we are near Managua. But it was nearly an hour before we emerged into the open fields surrounding the city, and then it was so dark that we could discern nothing except the lights of the houses, and the occasional gleaming of the lake beyond. Here we were met by Don Pedro Blanco, to whom I was specially recommended by Don Frederico. He had come to put his “pobre casa” at my disposition. Don Pedro was for doing things in a grand way, and accordingly desired us to wait for all the stragglers to come up, so as to make an imposing entrée, which we did, at a round pace, to the great alarm of the infantile, and the utter indignation of the canine portion of the population. It was too dark to see much of the town, and I only remember interminable streets lined with huts and low houses, a big church with a spectral white archway in front, and a great plaza flanked by two or three two-story buildings, with another large church in its centre. All this was out of our way, for Pedro was determined to impress us with the magnitude of the town, and I began to think that it had no end, when suddenly Pedro turned short, ducked his head, and dashed beneath the “Porteria” into the _patio_ or court yard of his own house, whilst our escort filed off, at a tearing rate, for the public posada. Fortunate escort! Don Pedro’s house was not the most aristocratic in the place, nor yet the cleanest, although his wife was amongst the fattest and fairest. It had but two rooms, and one of these was a _tienda_, or store, where our hostess dispensed candles and candy, dry goods and dulces, toys and tobacco, vegetables and medicines, in quantities to suit purchasers. Here a couple of new hammocks were forthwith swung, into which we rolled without ceremony, and with all the satisfaction of tired men. Pedro’s grand _entrée_ had almost finished us; but he had considerately ordered supper before leaving home, and I almost forgave him the awful trot he had given us, when I saw the cloth spread and the savory dishes make their appearance one by one. M., who had never before ridden two consecutive miles on horseback, and who, thoroughly “used up,” had lain like a log in his hammock, began now to show some signs of life, and even sat up and looked voraciously at the table. I asked for a basin of water before sitting down, which Don Pedro produced at once, but protested against our washing ourselves then, as it was “muy malo,” and would bring on the _calentura_, or fever. This superstition, I afterwards found, was not only general amongst the natives, but also amongst foreigners resident in the country. I however never regarded it, and yet escaped the calentura.