The new Emperor, Cuitlahua, having signalized his accession to the throne by the almost total destruction of the formidable foe, who had spread the terror of his arms far and wide through all the realms of Anahuac, proceeded to fortify his capital and kingdom against another invasion. The dikes and canals were thoroughly repaired, the walls were strengthened and extended, the army enlarged and improved in discipline by some of the lessons which so able a general, was not slow to learn from the Spaniards. The immense treasures they had drawn from the munificent Montezuma, and which, in the disasters of that melancholy night, they had been compelled to leave behind, were all recovered and expended in these works of defence. Their arms, too, were gathered up, and served to improve and render more effective many of the more primitive weapons of the Aztecs. In the midst of these wise and patriotic efforts to guard against the probable return of the Spaniards, Cuitlahua was seized with a loathsome disease, which in a few days brought him to the grave, after a brief reign of four months. This was a terrible blow to the nation. It was felt throughout all the borders of Anahuac, as the severest frown of their gods. But partially recovered from the shock occasioned by the death of Montezuma, they were now beginning to feel their hopes renewed, and their courage reviving, under the bold and decided measures, and the signal successes of their new Emperor. He was the idol of the army. His intrepid bravery, his high military talents, his unyielding patriotism, and deadly hatred of the white men, had secured for him the confidence of all the wisest and best men of the realm, so that, with one heart and one voice, they rallied around his standard, assured that, under his energetic sway, the ancient glory and pre-eminence of the Aztec crown would be not only ably asserted, but effectually re-established. His fall, like a mighty earthquake, shook the empire to its centre. For a moment it seemed as if all was lost--hopelessly, irretrievably lost. The long funereal wail, that swelled up from every dwelling and every heart in that devoted land, seemed like the expiring groan of a world. But it was only for a moment. The first shock past, they found themselves still standing, though among ruins. Their land, their temples, their dwellings, still remained. Their wise and experienced counsellors were all in their midst. Their host of armed men were still at their post, unbroken, undivided, unappalled. The imperial mantle had not fallen to the earth.