On returning, my kind host made such immediate and complete arrangements for our accommodation, as guarantied to my _ménage_ not only comfort, but some degree of splendor. On reaching the house that had been made ready for our reception, my friend, the curate, informed me that it was mine, and desired me to call for whatever I wished. The saddlebags and hammock were sent for, and everything was soon in a comfortable condition. The table was supplied with refreshments, and ornamented with large earthen cups of cool water, on the surface of which full-blown red roses were floating. The garden attached to my house, which I supposed, of course, was included in the gift, was fragrant with ripe oranges, and other delicious fruits. Besides all these, a whole troop of Indians were in attendance, to await my behests. There stands the Casa-real, our deserted hovel, just across the way. These sudden changes absolutely require nerve. Between the kindness of the curate, the company of a civil dignitary of the town, and two other citizens, as guests, and a supper, which, I flatter myself, I was fully prepared to appreciate, served up with the unusual luxury of knives and forks, I contrived to pass one of the most agreeable evenings that I had enjoyed since my departure from home. At three o’clock on the following morning, we made ready to leave. The church was already lighted up, and the worthy curate at his post. At four we were in our saddles, and were soon making our way upon the road. The sky was clear and bright. The moon was half gone, throwing a sombre light upon all things around us. The green bushes by the road-side looked black; and the bleached wood of the rude crosses, erected at the pathway entrances to the haciendas, appeared forlorn and startling. We met with but one living thing upon the road, and that was the mail-carrier. Neither the trampling of horses, nor the sound of horn, heralded his approach; but the clamping sounds of his wooden sandals, as they struck upon the stony road, gave us the first notice that he was near. The mail was contained in a small box, held by a strap, which passed round the head of the carrier, who was an Indian. At eight o’clock we arrived at Sitax, the prettiest town we had seen; where we stopped for breakfast and to obtain a horse, that of José having given out. As I strolled about the place, I noticed a more marked appearance of order than was generally to be seen in the other towns. At the house of an old Indian I saw an earthen vase, something of the Etruscan shape, which he told me had been found among some of the ancient ruins in this province. He used it as an incense-burner; and refused to sell, or even to set a price upon it. Money is not omnipotent with these Indians, as in most civilized countries; and this prostration of the divinity almost startled me.