The curate was the next resort; he lived close by. So, dripping with the rain, and trembling with cold, we went to his house, and gave such a shivering knock, that it might have denoted our pitiable condition without the necessity of words to explain it. After some delay, a short, thick-set, gray-headed old man came to the door, inquiring, rather gruffly, what was wanted? A single glance might have told him; but we, however, verbally stated our situation, and requested his advice. All we could obtain from him in answer was, “Nadie, Nadie!”—with such an emphatic and significant shrug, that I was sure he had practised it all his life. I left as I had entered, rather coolly. Slightly scanning his room, however, I observed, in a corner, a table covered with broken pieces of cups, the floor filled with old chairs, books, &c., and dirt in abundance. I had little difficulty in believing the grapes were sour. I pocketed my ungracious reception as well as might be, and returned through the streets to the Casa-real, partly to see of what sort of people this _pious_ churl, to whom I was a stranger, and who took me not in, was the Corypheus, and partly to get an idea of the topography of the place. I found my home had much improved by my absence. I was now in a state of mind to look at it with far greater satisfaction than when I left it. We built a huge fire upon the floor, warmed ourselves, and dried our clothes; and over our supper, that we had just bought of the Indians, decided, that it was better to submit to the evils that we already had, than “to fly to others that we knew not of.” Only one white man was seen in the place, and it is questionable whether he were so all the way through. He was the curate, of whose tender mercies I had received so refreshing a specimen. In my walk, I witnessed a scene which was calculated to excite both pity and disgust. In front of the church were collected some forty or fifty drunken Indians, with the log drum and other uncouth instruments, including their voices, making up with discordant and hideous noises a celebration of the last day of the masquerade. One of the prime actors in this revel eventually became so affected by the liquor he had drunk, that he became decidedly mad—striking about him and raving furiously. His companions were obliged to secure him by ropes, and have him carried to his hut. By eight o’clock on the following day, I was mounted and on the route. The roads were somewhat more passable, though the same rocky surface, with occasional rises, was encountered. I observed one sugar-plantation on my way; the cane, which was then nearly ready to be cut, looked very well.