The commandante insisted on our dining, and we had no indisposition to do him the favor,—particularly as we had ocular demonstration, in the flitches of dried meat, the luscious-looking plantains, and other edibles, which hung from the rafters, (not less than in the person of our rotund host, whose uniform was strained to the utmost limit in the buttoning,) that his larder was well supplied, and the wants of the inner man properly cared for. Preparatory to taking a walk through the little village, which the commandante told us was “muy pobre,” very poor, we all took a drop of brandy, to his toast complimentary to us, and “to the President of the United States,” “El Esclarecido General Taylor.” I have said that the house of the commandante stood within the ancient outworks of the strong fort of San Carlos. The rocky summit of the point had been smoothed, and the slopes scarped, so as to render ascent difficult, if not impracticable. A battery, which raked the river for a mile, once existed here; but the few rusty guns which remain are more formidable in appearance than in fact. The fort itself, which formerly communicated with this battery by a covered way, stands some distance back, on the highest point of land in the vicinity. It was very strong, but is now in complete decay, and covered with large trees and bushes, so as to be entirely hidden from view. Within it we observed many very heavy pieces of ordnance, some of which were cast in Manilla, and trees were growing up through heaps of rusty cannon-balls. The position completely commands the entrance to the lake, and from the nature of the surrounding country must have been nearly impregnable.