This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1893-01-01 Excerpt: ...notice that these people are not touching their hats to you any more than they are to me." "Are they paying this homage to your fly, or to your horses?" "Not more to one than the other. Oh, short-sighted Frenchman They are wishing our coachman good-day, that is alL" I bit my lips. My host was right, as I convinced myself with a little attention. Accustomed as I was to the polite courtesy of the peasants of the old Spanish colonies, there was a natural excuse for my mistake. I was the first to laugh at my blunder and I promised to be more careful in future to whom I raised my hat. The rich vegetation of Mexico was too vividly impressed on my mind for me to show as much surprise at the beauty of the surrounding country as my companion expected. The plants, bushes, and trees which I had seen growing in wild luxuriance were here trimmed, fenced in, and cultivated. But, as I have since convinced myself, one ought no more to judge of Louisiana from New Orleans than of Mexico from the barren, sandy, desolate coast around Vera-Cruz. We skirted the border of a wood, and then turned into a cross road, seamed with deep ruts, hardly wide enough to allow our carriage to pass. After half an hour of rough jolting, our vehicle suddenly stopped short. "What has happened?" asked the general of our coachman. "It is impossible to go on, sir." We alighted. A small cart was lying across the road surrounded with cases, bales, and parcels, and an old unharnessed horse was contemplating the disaster with a melancholy eye, whilst he solemnly munched a mouthful of grass. "Ah, Thomas poor Thomas " said a plaintive voice near us. My companion ran towards a negro, who, seated on the ground, his face hidden between his hands, ...