In this miserable place had he resided in a state of obscure poverty, up to that hour, when, accidentally introduced to the reader, at the hacienda Las Palmas. Under the pretence of visiting the Bishop of Oajaca, but in reality for the purpose of fomenting the insurrection, Morelos had travelled through the province of that name; and at the time of his visit to Las Palmas, he was on his way to offer his services to Hidalgo, as chaplain of the insurgent army. The result of that application was, that instead of a chaplaincy to his army, Hidalgo bestowed upon the _cura_ of Caracuaro, a commission to capture the fortified seaport of Acapulco. It was in reality rather as a jest, and to disembarrass himself of the importunities of Morelos, that Hidalgo bestowed this singular and important commission. How much Morelos merited the honour will appear in the sequel. CHAPTER TWENTY NINE. A COURSE OF STUDY INTERRUPTED. In the early part of January, 1812--about fifteen months after the scenes detailed as occurring near the hacienda Las Palmas--two men might have been seen face to face--one seated behind a rude deal table covered with charts and letters--the other standing in front, hat in hand. This tableau was within a tent--the least ragged and largest, among a number of others that formed an encampment on the banks of the river Sabana, at a short distance from the port of Acapulco. The person seated wore upon his head a checked cotton kerchief while his shoulders were covered with a _jaqueta_ of white linen. It would have been difficult for any one not knowing him, to recognise in this plainly-dressed individual the commander-in-chief of the insurgent army encamped around, and still more difficult perhaps to have believed that he was the _ci-devant_ "cura" of Caracuaro, Don Jose Maria Morelos y Pavon. And yet it was he. Yes, the humble curate had raised the standard of independence in the southern provinces; had long been carrying it with success; and at this moment he was commander-in-chief of the insurgent forces besieging Acapulco--that very town he had been ironically empowered to take. But notwithstanding the eccentric changes which civil war produces in the situations of men, the reader cannot be otherwise than greatly astonished when told, that the gentleman who stood in front of Morelos, encased in the somewhat elegant uniform of a lieutenant of cavalry, was the _ci-devant_ student of theology--Don Cornelio Lantejas. By what magical interference had the timid student of theology been transformed into an officer of dragoons--in the army of the insurgents, too, towards whose cause he had shown himself but indifferently affected? To explain this unexpected metamorphosis, it will be necessary to enter into some details, continuing the history of the student from the time when we left him on a fevered couch in the hacienda of Las Palmas, till that hour when we find him in the marquee of the insurgent general.