From the corridor, the eye traversed broad fields of cane, framed in by a dense forest, the view opening only towards the east, where the perspective of fields terminated, in the distance, with the tiled roof of the house belonging to the indigo estate, but half seen amidst the surrounding trees. A creaking cart came up the broad avenue towards us, loaded with stalks of the _caña_, which were piled in heaps in front of the mills situated in the valley of the stream, and partially concealed by the vapors rising lazily from the boiling kettles in which the juice was evaporated. The mozos engaged in the various processes moved about with a slow and careless air, in perfect harmony with the general quiet of the scenery, and in unison with the monotonous clatter of the mill, which seemed to be half asleep, and just about to stop altogether. I sat down in a vacant hammock, and for the first time fully comprehended the charms of hacienda life,—that aimless, dreamy existence, undisturbed by ambition or envy, and separated from the struggle of conflicting interests. Our bachelor friend vegetated here month after month, without a wish ungratified, making the most of the present, and careless of the future. Occasionally, he said, his slumbering energies would be roused for a moment, but lacking legitimate objects to occupy them, soon subsided again, and the stream of life flowed on as before. A turn with his dogs in the morning, a stroll of supervision through the mills, chocolate, a book, the hammock, and the siesta,—these, with now and then a ride to the village, or on extraordinary occasions a rapid descent of a single day on Leon, made up the sum of life. Connected with this estate was a “huerta de las fruitas,” a fruit garden, upon which the late Don Gregorio had expended a great deal of money and care. It covered several acres of ground,—a wilderness of oranges and lemons, white and yellow pine apples, melons, mamays, marañons, jocotes, limes, citrons, guavas, tamarinds,—in short all the innumerable varieties of tropical fruits and flowers, traversed by broad walks, here a vista terminating in a bower, and there ending with a glimpse of the deep pools of the neighboring stream; the whole surrounded by an evergreen hedge of cactuses, in full bloom, and loading the air with fragrance. Here was the odorous sweet lemon, and in the centre of the garden a group of bread-fruit trees, remarkable for their broad, deep green leaves, amongst which might be discerned the nuts, looking for all the world like the heads of young darkies. These trees had been introduced by Don Gregorio from the Sandwich Islands, and flourished quite as luxuriantly as in their native soil. But the fruit did not “take” with the Nicaraguenses, who preferred the tortilla and the plantain; the tree is therefore propagated solely from motives of curiosity.