His chief interests in life, however, are gambling and cock-fighting, and he is quite capable of losing all his worldly goods, his wife and even his pony at the national game of monte, and then of lighting a cigarette and sauntering off without a sign of regret.[1.8] Now we approach what may be called a village, but one extremely different from a village in the United States. The great things are a handsome grove and in the midst of it one old church of gray stone, full of saints and relics and ancient plate, with a ragged, stupid Indian crouching on the floor. Near by are two or three ranchero cottages with a group of Indian huts in the distance, and yonder stands a large, rambling edifice of stone with a mighty door and heavily barred windows. From the ends of the building run high walls inclosing several acres, and within the protected space may be seen a number of substantial dwellings and what appear to be storehouses and stables, while far away over hill and plain spreads the _hacienda_, an estate as large as a county. Finally, on a gentle slope not far distant we observe a monastery with a rich garden behind it, and a fat, contented prior riding sleepily up to its arched gateway through a dozen or two of kneeling aborigines.[1.8] Toward evening we reach the state capital, and as we cross a bridge on the outskirts, we see a crowd of people bathing. Both sexes are splashing and swimming, all as happy as ducks and all entirely nude. Even the presence of strangers does not embarrass the young women, some of whom are decidedly good-looking; and they even try to draw our attention by extra displays of skill. Looking for an inn we discover two lines of low, rickety buildings alternating with heaps of rubbish, fodder and harness. After some efforts a waiter is found and we obtain a room, with a mule already slumbering in one corner of it and all sorts of household litter thrown about. A wretched cot with a rope bottom, a dirty table and an abundance of saints portrayed in Mexican dress help to make the place homelike. The waiter is amiable, and ejects the mule with a great show of indignation; but when we ask for water and a towel his good nature fails. "Oh, what a man," he cries, flinging up his hands; "What a lunatic, Ave María Purísima; Ha! Ha! Ha! He wants water, he wants a towel; what the devil--! Good-by." The dining-room is a hot, steamy cell, fitted up with charcoal furnaces; and for viands we are offered plenty of hard beef, _chile_ (pepper) and _tortillas_ (flapjacks of a sort), besides a number of dishes that only a native could either describe or eat. Chile and tortillas appear, however, to be the essentials; and the latter, partly rolled up, serve also as spoons.[1.8]