Nicaragua

MAGNIFICENT VIEWS OF SCENERY—“RELOX DEL SOL”—JOHN JONES AND ANTIQUITIES—AN “ALARM;” REVOLVERS, AND A RESCUE—DISTANT BELLS—DON PEDRO BLANCO—MANAGUA—ANOTHER GRAND ENTREE—OUR QUARTERS—SUPPER SERVICE—ENACTING THE LION—VIRTUES OF AGUARDIENTE—AN “OBSEQUIO” OR TORCH-LIGHT PROCESSION IN HONOR OF THE UNITED STATES—A NATIONAL ANTHEM—NIGHT WITH THE FLEAS—FOURTH OF JULY AND A PATRIOTIC BREAKFAST—SAINT JONATHAN—LEAVE MANAGUA—MATEARES—PRIVILEGES OF A “COMPADRE”—LAKE OF MANAGUA—A MAGNIFICENT VIEW—THE VOLCANO OF MOMOTOMBO—A SOLITARY RIDE—GEOLOGICAL PUZZLE—NAGAROTE—THE POSADA—MULES ABANDONED—A SICK CALIFORNIAN—DINNER AT A PADRE’S—THE SANTA ANITA—VIRTUES OF A PIECE OF STAMPED PAPER—A STORM IN THE FOREST—PUEBLO NUEVO—FIVE DAUGHTERS IN SATIN SHOES—UNBROKEN SLUMBERS—ADVANCE ON LEON—AXUSCO—A FAIRY GLEN—THE GREAT PLAIN OF LEON—A “TOUCH” OF POETRY—MEET THE AMERICAN CONSUL—A PREDICAMENT—CAVALCADE OF RECEPTION—NEW ILLUSTRATION OF REPUBLICAN SIMPLICITY—EL CONVENTO—A METAMORPHOSIS—THE BISHOP OF NICARAGUA—FORREST, MISS CLIFTON, MR. CLAY—CRITICISM ON ORATORY—NINE VOLCANOES IN A ROW—DISTANT VIEW OF THE GREAT CATHEDRAL—THE CITY—IMPOSING DEMONSTRATIONS—THE GRAND PLAZA—A PANTOMIMIC SPEECH AND REPLY—THE LADIES, “GOD BLESS THEM!”—HOUSE OF THE AMERICAN CONSUL—END OF THE CEREMONIES—SELF-CONGRATULATIONS THEREON—A SERENADE—MARTIAL ASPECT OF THE CITY—TROUBLE ANTICIPATED—PRECAUTIONS OF THE GOVERNMENT.

Beyond the “mal pais” the road passed over a beautiful undulating country, with occasional open, grassy spaces, dotted here and there with little clumps of bushes and trees, from whence the eye caught glimpses of the distant lakes and mountains. For many miles, scoria and disentegrating lava showed the extent of volcanic action in ancient times; in fact, for the whole distance to Managua, volcanic traces and products were to be seen on every hand. Half way between Masaya and Managua we came suddenly upon a large, erect stone, which, at first glance, I supposed was one of the “piedras antiguas” of the country; a veritable monolith, like those discovered by Mr. Stephens at Copan. It however proved to be “un relox del sol,” an ancient sun dial, erected by the early Spaniards for the double purpose of marking the distance and the hours. There had been an inscription upon it, but it was obliterated now, and a rude cross had been deeply graven in its place. I dismounted to examine it more closely, and found “John Jones” scratched upon one of its sides. Ubiquitous “John Jones!” He had been convicted of bigamy, and sent to the State prison but two days before I left New York! W. inquired if “Jones” was an Aztec name, and I felt cheap enough about “monuments,” and was mounting again in great disgust, when we were all startled by the sudden discharge of a pistol, in a dark ravine which we had just passed, followed by a confused shout, and another discharge, and then a volley in quick succession. An attack, in the present unsettled state of the country, was by no means an impossibility; and the firing continuing, we turned our horses’ heads and galloped back, weapons in hand, to the rescue. A moment brought us within view of half a dozen of our party, their horses plunging in dire confusion, while their riders fired their revolvers with the greatest rapidity into the forest. Glancing amongst the trees, we discovered the enemy, a troop perhaps thirty or forty strong, crashing amongst the bushes, in full retreat. It was a squadron of large, yellow monkeys upon which the party had fired, in frolicksome mood, with a design rather to alarm their comrades than injure the monkeys, who escaped with no farther damage than a prodigious fright, sufficient to last them for the remainder of their natural lives. The cacchinatory exercises following upon such a feat over, we all moved on together. The road was deeply shaded, but broad and smooth; and, as the sun went down, conversation gradually ceased, and the horses, invigorated by the cool atmosphere, all fell into a rapid pace, the clatter of their hoofs alone disturbing the silence of the evening.

Hark, a bell! the sound vibrating even into the depths of the leafy forest! It is the oracion, and we are near Managua. But it was nearly an hour before we emerged into the open fields surrounding the city, and then it was so dark that we could discern nothing except the lights of the houses, and the occasional gleaming of the lake beyond.

Here we were met by Don Pedro Blanco, to whom I was specially recommended by Don Frederico. He had come to put his “pobre casa” at my disposition. Don Pedro was for doing things in a grand way, and accordingly desired us to wait for all the stragglers to come up, so as to make an imposing entrée, which we did, at a round pace, to the great alarm of the infantile, and the utter indignation of the canine portion of the population. It was too dark to see much of the town, and I only remember interminable streets lined with huts and low houses, a big church with a spectral white archway in front, and a great plaza flanked by two or three two-story buildings, with another large church in its centre. All this was out of our way, for Pedro was determined to impress us with the magnitude of the town, and I began to think that it had no end, when suddenly Pedro turned short, ducked his head, and dashed beneath the “Porteria” into the patio or court yard of his own house, whilst our escort filed off, at a tearing rate, for the public posada. Fortunate escort!

Don Pedro’s house was not the most aristocratic in the place, nor yet the cleanest, although his wife was amongst the fattest and fairest. It had but two rooms, and one of these was a tienda, or store, where our hostess dispensed candles and candy, dry goods and dulces, toys and tobacco, vegetables and medicines, in quantities to suit purchasers. Here a couple of new hammocks were forthwith swung, into which we rolled without ceremony, and with all the satisfaction of tired men. Pedro’s grand entrée had almost finished us; but he had considerately ordered supper before leaving home, and I almost forgave him the awful trot he had given us, when I saw the cloth spread and the savory dishes make their appearance one by one. M., who had never before ridden two consecutive miles on horseback, and who, thoroughly “used up,” had lain like a log in his hammock, began now to show some signs of life, and even sat up and looked voraciously at the table. I asked for a basin of water before sitting down, which Don Pedro produced at once, but protested against our washing ourselves then, as it was “muy malo,” and would bring on the calentura, or fever. This superstition, I afterwards found, was not only general amongst the natives, but also amongst foreigners resident in the country. I however never regarded it, and yet escaped the calentura.

Pedro’s supper was well enough served, only there were neither knives nor forks. Ben supplied these from his alforjas, and we got on very well, or rather might have done so; but before we had fairly taken the edge off our appetites we heard a great uproar in the direction of the plaza, succeeded by the firing of guns and the whizzing discharge of bombas. I glanced round at our host, who so far from exhibiting any alarm seemed to be mightily exultant. I had made up my mind to be surprised at nothing, and so asked no questions. Meantime the tumult increased, and the squeaking of violins was to be heard in the pauses of the shouting and firing. By-and-by we distinguished “Vivan los Estados Unidos!” “Vivan los Americanos del Norte!” and the appalling consciousness was forced upon us that we were to be lionized forthwith, and supper but half finished! I appealed to Pedro to shut the door and say we were ill, and would see the people in the morning; but he either did not understand, or affected not to do so, and before I could explain, the crowd was at the entrance, and pouring into our apartment. The alcaldes came first, and a dozen fiddlers followed. Then came the people in solid column, while the outsiders kept up a perfect storm of vivas,—their upturned, swarthy faces looking singularly wild and forbidding under the light of their torches. Not a tithe was able to enter, yet every one seemed determined to find a place inside, and crowded one upon the other to such a degree that we should have been suffocated outright, had not the alcaldes formed a cordon around us, and kept off the crowd with their canes. The principal or first alcalde, made a speech, full of welcome, and well spiced with patriotism, in which he called us, and all the people of the United States, collectively and individually, friends and brothers, and a great many other endearing names, which I have forgotten; and then everybody wanted to shake hands, and thrust them forward over the heads and under the arms of the front rank, a hundred at a time. But as our visitors generally did not seem to have any clear conception as to which of the party was the illustrious object of their homage, I instructed my companions to shake all the hands within their reach, and pass the owners on. In this wise, and by causing Pedro to invite the entire crowd to drink my health, at my expense, at the next pulperia, I finally succeeded in clearing the house,—but our chocolate was cold, and some of our worthy visitors had availed themselves of the “noise and confusion” to pocket all the baked meats. And as we sat disconsolately waiting for more to be cooked, we voted the system of lionizing a bore, and M. quoted Shakspeare:

with variations suited to our present condition.

The idea of getting the crowd off to the pulperia we all thought was a particularly happy one; but the sequel proved otherwise. In half an hour our admiring friends, greatly augmented in numbers, all returned; and if they were fervent and enthusiastic before, what were they now? I appeared on the steps of the house and bowed low, and retired. But bows wouldn’t answer. Nothing short of a grand procession would furnish an adequate vent to the overflowing feelings of the citizens. Pedro begged for my flag, while messengers were despatched to the Californians at the posada, to solicit their participation in the grand “obsequio.” Pending the completion of the arrangements, the crowd continued to increase, completely choking up the street for an entire block. The confusion was dire; the violinists played as if working for their lives, while bombas were let off as fast as they could be collected. Finally, the Californians, refreshed by an ample supper, made their appearance, and at once fell into the spirit of the affair. The flag was unfurled at the head of the column, surrounded by an armed guard of honor; next came the officers and the musicos, and then, as the programmes at home say, “the citizens generally.” The procession marched through all the principal streets, hurrahing at every corner for “El Norte,” the “bello sexo,” “Gen. Taylor,” the “Supreme Government,” in fact for nearly everything, but particularly for the “glorious flag of the North.” The national anthem was sung in the plaza, the multitude joining in the chorus with almost frantic fervor, and then the Californians were called upon to sing the national air of the United States, but being unable to give it to their own satisfaction, they sang “Dearest May” instead, with great applause, and as Pedro afterwards told us, “con mucho espiritu,” with great spirit!

It was full midnight when the “obsequio” was brought to a close, and our dispositions made for the night. And such a night! I had now my first introduction to the kind of bed in common use in the country, and which I verily believe was instituted as a punishment for the sins of the people. It consists of an ox-hide drawn, while green, tightly over a stout framework of wood, and afterwards elaborately polished, so as to look like the head of a drum. When dry, a slab of marble is a soft and downy thing in comparison with it. It was on such a bed as this, with a smooth and gaudily colored “petate,” or mat, and a single sheet spread over the hide, that I was invited to repose. I examined this new instrument of torture narrowly, and finally turned in, with heavy misgivings, particularly as I found that Pedro’s mansion was fall of fleas, which had already set my nerves on a gallop. I was weary enough, but it was impossible to sleep—the fleas came in hungry squadrons, and the hide bed grew momentarily more rigid and obdurate. I felt my own pulse; it was up to the fever rate, and I began to wish Don Pedro and Don Frederico to regions unmentionable for getting me into such a scrape. A bed on the ground, with my saddle for a pillow and the sky for a roof, would have been luxury itself, compared with this. I got up, unbarred the door, and went out on the corridor. The cool evening air was most welcome, and I vowed audibly not to go inside again. So I roused Ben, who strung me a hammock between the columns of the corridor, in which I succeeded in getting an hour or two of slumber.

When morning came, I told Don Pedro that it was the anniversary of American Independence, and that it was meet and becoming to breakfast with the rest of the Americans at the posada. And leaving Ben to bring round the animals and baggage, I got away as fast as possible from Don Pedro’s hospitable but awfully flea-infested dwelling. I found the posada a very nice place indeed, and had the satisfaction of learning that each one of the Californians had had a comfortable cot or camp bed, with only a reasonable amount of fleas.

We all breakfasted together, and drank patriotic toasts, and sang Yankee Doodle, and were altogether appropriately patriotic, to the great delectation of the quidnuncs of Managua, who gathered in crowds around the open doors and windows. They were properly instructed as to the nature of “the day we celebrated,” that it was the great feast of St. Jonathan; whereupon they hurrahed for the saint, and even proposed to ring the church bells in his honor. But fearful of another “obsequio,” we discouraged this idea, and made all haste to get off as quietly as possible.

At eight o’clock we were in the saddle. It was a gorgeous morning, and the lake of Managua flashed brightly in our eyes as we rode through the grand plaza. The opposite shore was dim and distant, but high and rough in outline, while nearer, a volcanic ridge, or succession of volcanic peaks, projected boldly into the lake, forming a sort of bay, at the head of which Managua was situated. A broad, well-beaten, and level avenue led out from the city, lined on both sides by forests, into which paths diverged in every direction. The road was filled with men and women going to their day’s labor in the fields; and from their cheerful, frank air and manner, it was easy to see that we were beyond “war’s alarms.” At the distance of two leagues we came to the foot of the ridge which I have already mentioned, rising abruptly before us. Here, under a gigantic cebia, girths were tightened, and preparations made for the ascent, which is by a broad path, partly cut in the hill and built up with masonry. This road was constructed by Gen. Muñoz, to avoid the circuit of the camino real, or cart road, and is creditable to its originator. The ascent was laborious, but the toil was repaid by the views which we caught of the lake and its shores, from places where the precipices allowed no foothold for trees, and whence the eye roamed freely over league upon league of forest and undulating hills, terminating in the blue belt of Chontales and New Segovia. It was a singular position to be thus perched on the face of a cliff, with high, black, and frowning volcanic rocks on one hand, and a precipice, sheer and yawning, upon the other.

After winding about for half an hour, we reached the summit, from which, upon the other side, the land fell off in a gentle slope. This is the only hill or mountain to be encountered in the whole length of Nicaragua, between the lakes and the Pacific; and this may be avoided by taking the circuit of the cart road. From the summit, two hours and a half of hard riding, over a beautiful country, brought as to the little village of Mateares, distinguished as being utterly destitute of a single object of interest. It is a sort of half-way house in the journey from Granada to Leon, and has a miserable posada or two, where coffee and tortillas may be obtained cheaply, and fleas gratis. We divided our party between the two rival establishments, and ordered water and sacate for the animals, preliminary to undertaking the hot and unprotected ride of three leagues upon the sandy shore of the lake, which came within the next stage of our journey. Don Enrique Pallais, a Frenchman, domesticated in the country, a man of large experience and a kind heart, who was of our party, had his “comadre” in the posada where we stopped, who embraced him affectionately as we entered. She was exceedingly pretty, with a mild, sweet face, and as she was apparently the mistress of the mansion, I felt a little scandalized to find Don Enrique on such familiar terms with her; but he explained this extraordinary relation of “comadre” and “compadre,” to my entire satisfaction. He had been sponsor at the baptism of her child, a little yellow chap just tottering about the house, and had thereby assumed the relation of compadre—a kind of second husband, without, however, any marital rights beyond the privilege of an embrace at meeting, after the manner I had witnessed. I afterwards observed that the fervor of the embrace bore a pretty exact ratio to the good looks of the señora. The fact is, I am a “compadre” myself now, and the relation brings to mind a girlish little creature, singing softly to her baby, at this very hour I dare say, somewhere amongst the hills of San Salvador!

At Mateares the traveller turns suddenly to the right, and descending a steep bank comes at once upon the shore of the lake. For two or three miles a belt of trees intervenes between the water and the cliff, beneath which passes the broad, gravelly road. I had gone ahead of my companions, who were deeply engaged in the concoction of lemonades at the posada, and had this part of the ride alone. I took off my hat, and throwing the rein upon my horse’s neck, gave myself up to the silence and the scene. The air was literally loaded with fragrant odors from a hundred varieties of flowers, which blushed amongst the green thickets on every hand, while the waters of the lake flashed here and there between the trees like silver bars; and brilliant birds, noisy parrots, and dignified macaws in fiery plumage, looked down upon me in a familiar way, as if I were an old acquaintance. Several portly iguanas, who were enjoying themselves amongst the loose gravel of the road, seemed to be doubtful whether they should turn out, or force me to do so; and when they did leave the path, it was in a very leisurely manner, and with an expression equivalent to “what a gringo, to be riding at noonday, and disturbing respectable iguanas!”

After riding about a league, the belt of forest terminated in a a few gigantic cebias, and beyond was a broad beach, the bare cliff rising abruptly on one side, and the lake spreading out on the other, without as much as a shrub to break the fervor of the tropical sun. Here a party of muleteers, returning from Leon, were taking their noonday siesta, while the mules straggled about at will, nibbling the green bushes. Here too, for the first time, came fully in sight the great volcano of Momotombo, with the conical island of Momotombita in front, and the broken cones of the volcano of Las Pilas upon its flank. The foreground of rocks and trees, the strolling mules and reclining figures, completed a picture unsurpassed, in point of novelty and beauty by any which I had seen before, or have witnessed since. Its predominant features are very imperfectly conveyed in the accompanying drawing, subsequently taken from the same point of view.

The muleteers sat up as I rode by, answering my “adios Señores” with “buen viaje, Caballero,” and then fell back in the sand again, and drew their sombreros over their faces. The sand of the beach was fetlock deep, and covered all over with white and rose-colored pebbles of pumice-stone. I spurred my horse up to the water, and dismounting led him along its edge, amusing myself by tossing the light pebbles out upon the tiny waves, and watching them come tipping back again, buoyant as corks. Hundreds of wild fowl, cranes, herons, and water-hens lined the shores, or stood soliloquizing on the rocks and sand-spits which projected into the water. They had the courtesy to give me the road as I walked along, but hardly anything more; and only ejaculated “cluck!” when I shouted at them, which I suppose meant “don’t be kicking up a row here, at noonday.” In fact I began to think that all nature, animate and inanimate, had entered into a grand compact to take a quiet snooze at this precise hour every day. The lake itself seemed dreaming, and the smoke from Momotombo rose in such a sleepy way, that I almost felt drowsy in watching it, and should certainly have lain down in the sand and taken a nap, had there been a tree or bush to protect me from the hot sun. My only alternative was therefore to jog on, which I did until I came to a place where the cliff projected forward almost to the water’s edge. Here I paused, and looked back for my companions, but they were not to be seen.

Beyond this point the lake formed a little bay, and rocks worn into fantastic shapes by the water supplanted the sandy beach. These rocks seemed to be composed of a kind of volcanic breccia, for fragments of pumice-stone, bits of primitive rock, and an occasional large piece of trachyte were visible in the white and slightly porous masses. Yet, at a little distance, stratified sand rock appeared, overlying the breccia, and anon a vein of basaltic or trachytic rock, or a frowning heap of rough, black, and blistered masses of these materials, superimposed on the sand rock or conglomerate, would completely confound my uneducated notions of geological propriety. I presume all this apparent confusion is of easy explanation amongst those versed in the natural sciences; and if (as is more than likely) these can make nothing out of my description, they had better go there and examine for themselves. Geologically, as well as geographically and topographically, there is no more interesting region than that of Nicaragua, nor one which can better repay the investigations of the student of nature.

I continued beneath the broiling sun for nearly a league farther, passing through patches of chapparal, or thorny bushes, resembling the willow in the shape and color of their leaves, which found a precarious hold amongst the rocks and in the barren sands. Beyond these the track divided, one branch running up a ravine into the woods, and the other keeping along the lake. I was at a dead loss as to which to take, and did not much relish the idea of sitting there solus until the party came up. While in this perplexity I heard the crowing of cocks in the direction of the ravine, and riding in, soon found myself in a broad path which led to a cluster of huts, situated so as to command a full view of the lake, without being seen from the shore. I despatched one of the niños, under promise of the magnificent reward of one medio, to watch for my companions, and tossing the bridle to a mozo, walked into the best hut and took possession of the best hammock, which a motherly old lady undertook to swing backward and forth for me, while I should endeavor to compensate myself for my broken slumbers of the preceding night. Sleep came without coaxing, and I had a grand siesta there amongst those kind Indians. I was roused by our comisario, who was hurrying on to order dinner for us at Nagarote, and I determined to push on with him. He had seduced one of the party to take his old mule, and had now got the best horse in the company, my own excepted. It was a sharp proceeding, as will be seen in the sequel.

The ride to Nagarote was a fine one; in places the road came down to the lake, and then wound back again amongst the hills, affording a most agreeable diversity to the traveller. At one place we reached a small valley, at the bottom of which flowed a limpid, rippling little stream—the only one we had encountered since we left Granada. The ground was beaten hard, and the underbrush removed over a wide space, for this was a famous resting place with the carreteros and arrieros. Two or three little groups of travellers were now waiting there, mixing their cups of tiste from the stream, while their animals were left to roam at discretion. They invited us to join them, but with the prospect of a good dinner only one league ahead, we declined, and galloped on, and on, until I began to think that our going to Nagarote was a grand flam, or that the town itself had walked off. That famous league we ever afterwardsafterwards distinguished as the “five mile league.” We nevertheless finally came to Nagarote, a little scurvy looking town, redeemed by but one really good looking house, which I was glad to learn was the posada. The landlady was “fat and forty,” and welcomed us right cordially; she liked the Americans, she said; they had “mucho dinero,” much money, and paid double what other folks did, without grumbling. I ordered the best dinner she could afford for the entire party, and then took to the hammock again, to catch another installment of sleep. It was full an hour before the remainder of the party came dropping in, one by one, for the order of march had been completely broken up, after leaving Matearas. Dinner was almost ready, but yet three or four were missing. Finally these arrived, two of them on foot, and holding one of their companions in his saddle. He was the verdant young gentleman who had exchanged his horse for the mule of the comisario, which had completely broken down some two or three leagues back, and had been abandoned in the woods. He had attempted to walk the rest of the way, but the exercise brought on chills and fever. He was put to bed, bathed with brandy, and wrapped in blankets, and having perspired freely, came on next morning, all the better apparently for the attack.

I dined with Don Enrique, at the cane-built house of a poor priest, with whom he was acquainted. The padre was absent, but his housekeeper, a tall, pale woman, with large, expressive black eyes, welcomed us very cordially. She had about her some fifteen or twenty little children, collected from the poorest families, to whom she taught reading and writing. Her humble dwelling was destitute of a single article of luxury or embellishment, unless a finely painted face of the Virgin, suspended over a little altar in an inner room, can be called such. I asked her if she was paid for her pains? She shook her head, and her eyes kindled and her brow expanded, as she slowly raised her face to heaven: her reward was there. How little do the sectaries and bigots of our own country know of the devotion, and fervent, unselfish piety of many of those whom they so unsparingly denounce as the impure ministers of a debased religion! When I last passed through Nagarote, I called to see the gentle teacher, but the hut was deserted, and rank weeds were growing around it. I inquired for her at the posada; the old lady did not answer me, but her eyes filled with moisture. The Santa Anita was dead; she had gone to the reward for which she had striven; the reward of the meek and the lowly in spirit! Shall I confess it? The heretic stranger dropped a tear to the memory of the Santa Anita.

We experienced great tribulation in Nagarote in getting animals to replace two or three of the scurvy mules which had been imposed upon us in Granada, and which were here unanimously condemned. We told the man whom the emprestador had sent with them, that he must supply their places; but he couldn’t. All the horses and mules in the place had been sent to the fields, to prevent their being seized for the use of the army. “No hay, Señor!” there are none, was the invariable response to our inquiries. But we were bound to get on; so I instructed our comisario to produce the government order, which he carried in his pocket, and take it to the first alcalde, with my compliments, and the intimation that horses must be forthcoming, or his name should be faithfully reported to the “Gobierno Supremo.” The effect was magical; horses, and good ones, appeared incontinently; whereupon I conceived a high respect for the dingy bit of paper which had wrought the miracle, and copied it for the benefit of future travellers. Here it is:—

It was late in the afternoon, and dark thunder clouds were gathering in the east, clustering around the bald, burned peak of Momotombo, when we started from Nagarote for Pueblo Nuevo, where we were to pass the night. The winds were fitful, but cool and refreshing, and I unstrapped my poncho and threw it over the saddle bow, preparatory to encountering the storm that was closing around us. It came, fierce and black, before we had accomplished a single league of the five which intervened between the two villages. In an instant we were enveloped in the thick darkness, and the rain poured down in torrents. We could distinguish each other only when the lightnings blazed lividly around us. We left the horses to their own guidance, only taking care not to be dragged from our seats by the projecting limbs and overhanging branches, which constitute the chief source of danger in travelling in these countries in the night-time. The road became one pool of water, and the unshod horses slipped constantly, in a way not at all calculated to quiet one’s nerves. By-and-by the storm passed, rushing forth upon the expanse of the Pacific, and the full moon glanced through the rifts of the passing clouds, in a strange, fitful way, momentarily revealing tall spectral trunks and skeleton branches, and then leaving us in utter darkness. It was a weirdweird looking forest through which we passed, and the entire party seemed to catch its gloomy influences, and rode on, for more than hour, slowly and in silence. Suddenly, however, the spell was broken by one of the number striking up “Hail Columbia;” the others joined spontaneously in the chorus; and when it was done, a great shout was given, and every horse was spurred into a gallop, spite of mud and water, nor was a rein drawn until, emerging from the forest, we found ourselves saluted by a myriad dogs in the streets of Pueblo Nuevo. Here we were met by two or three Americans who had started with the escort, but had been left here in charge of one of their number who had been injured by a fall. Anticipating our arrival, they had secured places for us in the village, quartering one detachment here and another there, in true military style. The house assigned to me and my personal companions was the most imposing and aristocratic mansion in the place, inasmuch as it was twice as large as any other, plastered with mud, and whitewashed withal. It was occupied by a well-dressed Señora and her five daughters, all attired in their finest array, with satin slippers, and their dark hair newly braided, and tipped out with a bunch of variegated ribbons. Upon one side of the principal apartment was an immense hollowed log, which was the granary; and upon the other a wax figure of Christ on the cross, surrounded by weeping Marys and bearded Romans, superabundantly tinselled; the whole enclosed in a large glass case, hung round with chaplets of fresh flowers. The five daughters were evidently putting their best feet foremost, but seemed to be greatly perplexed as to which was “El Ministro.” Bespattered with mud, wayworn and weary, none of the party looked particularly imposing, and I thought I could discover symptoms of disappointment amongst the señoritas. They nevertheless were attentive, and gave us cigaritas all round, and brought coals in a silver cup for us to light them by; and what was better, they gave us a capital supper, with knives for three, and forks and spoons for four of the eight who sat down at the table, which was rather more than the usual allowance. Before we had finished, however, the alcalde came, but we declined talking until supper was over; and meantime the municipal dignitaries perched themselves on the big log, and looked at us in silence. We were getting very indifferent to official attentions; and so dismissed our visitors with all practicable expedition, but with a great profusion of compliments, which they seemed to relish mightily.

I got a bed with a canvass bottom, and slept dreamlessly the entire night, and until eight o’clock the next morning. The atmosphere was all the clearer for the storm of the preceding evening, and the village looked particularly bright and cheerful under the morning sun. Differing from the other towns which we had passed, each house was here surrounded by a hedge, or rather fence, of the columnar cactus, which in some places was low and even, but in others shot up to the height of fifteen or twenty feet, resembling palisades, above which just appeared the thatched roofs of the dwellings. “A great country, this,” said W——, “where they plant their fences!”

We were now within eight leagues of Leon, and, with the whole day before us, were not so expeditious in our movements as we might have been under other circumstances. We breakfasted leisurely, and departed with becoming deliberation. Beyond Pueblo Nuevo, the road, as usual, was through a forest, with here and there open spaces called “jicarales,” from the jicara, or calabash trees, that were scattered over them, and which in size, and the appearance of the leaves and fruit, resembled the apple trees at home.

The broad and well beaten road, hard and smooth from the rain of the preceding night, was lined with palms and trees covered with blossoms, which loaded the air with their rich perfumes, and from which the white and rose-tinted petals fell like snow, beneath the touch of the cool morning breeze. Here a group of monkeys looked down on us with queer grimaces—there a flock of parroquets, nestling perdu amongst the leaves, dashed wildly away upon our approach, while pigeons, and red-legged partridges graciously condescended to step out of the way and allow us to pass, without, however, exhibiting the slightest degree of alarm. Hundreds of lizards, bright green and gold, darted like rays of light before us; and large ants, each bearing a fragment of a green leaf above its back, marched across the path in solid columns, like fairy armies with their tiny banners. Their nests, built in the forks of the trees, resembled large bee-hives, and their paths, from which all obstacles were removed, for the width of several inches, could be traced by the eye in every direction amongst the bushes.

We rode briskly along, and in less than two hours came to a ravine, shut in by high banks, and descended by a series of steep steps which would have been deemed utterly impracticable at home, but which seemed to be quite a matter of course to the horses here. This place was called Axusco; and the ravine once entered, it was picturesque beyond description. The soil seemed moister than on the higher ground, and the verdure was correspondingly rich and dense. Masses of vines, leaves, and flowers were piled one on the other in the utmost luxuriance, and the shadows fell with a breadth and depth seen nowhere except under the tropics, and rarely equalled even there. It was a suspicious place nevertheless; and one or two dilapidated crosses, hardly visible amongst the undergrowth, showed that it had been the scene of tragic events, of robbery and murder. I afterwards often passed it in the night, but never without my hand on my sword-hilt.

We rested awhile at Axusco, then spurring up the opposite bank, resumed our march. The same forest shut us in, but paths, diverging here and there to distant estates and haciendas, gave evidence that we were approaching the city of Leon. Finally we arrived where the trees became more scattered, and through occasional openings we caught confused glimpses of broad fields, green hills, and towering volcanoes. These glimpses revealed a section of country surpassing in its capabilities any we had yet seen. I hurried on impatiently, and in a few moments, emerging from the forest, the great plain of Leon opened grandly before me!

I had left my companions behind, and stood alone on the borders of this ocean of verdure. Stretching away, chequered with hedge-rows and studded with tree clumps and tall palms, the eye traversed leagues on leagues of green fields, belted with forests, and bounded on the right by high mountains, their regular cones rising like spires to heaven, while low hills of emerald circled round on the left, like the seats of an amphitheatre. In front the view was uninterrupted, and the wearied eye sought in vain to discover its limit. A purple haze rested in the distance, and beneath it the waves of the great Pacific rolled in, unbrokenly, from China and the Indies!

It was the beginning of the rainy season, and vegetation had shot up in renewed youth and vigor; no dust had yet dimmed the almost transparent green of the leaves, nor had the heat withered the delicate blades of grass and spires of maize which carpeted the level fields, nor the young tendrils which twined delicately around the branches of the trees, or hung, blushing with buds and flowers, from the parent stem. Above all shone down the glorious sun, and the whole broad expanse seemed pulsating with life beneath its genial rays.

Never before had I gazed upon a scene so grand and magnificent as this. Well and truly has the ancient chronicler described it as “a country plain and beautiful, full of pleasantness, so that he who fared therein deemed that he journeyed in the ways of Paradise.” The impression produced upon my companions, who had in the meantime joined me, was not less striking than on myself. We had heard much of the great plain of Leon, but the reality far surpassed the anticipations which we had formed of its extent and beauty. As we rode on, however, we were surprised to find that, although a great quantity of land was cleared, not more than half of it was really under cultivation; a remark which we had subsequently frequent occasion to make, for agriculture, since the independence, owing to the unfortunate condition of the country, has very much declined.

We had anticipated some kind of demonstration upon our arrival in Leon, and remembering our plight at San Carlos, had fixed upon “El Convento,” about four miles from the city, as the place where we should make the necessary changes in our garb, preparatory to encountering the dignitaries and citizens of the capital. The convent was yet a league in advance, and meantime we wore the soiled and mud-bespattered garments with which we had passed through the storm of the preceding night. We had not gone far, however, into the open plain, before we discovered a party of horsemen galloping rapidly towards us. As they approached, we perceived that some wore military uniforms, while the others were dressed as simple citizens. They came near, and one of the party, who was evidently an American, looked hard at us, and for a moment seemed in doubt. We bowed, and would have passed on, but turning short, our supposed countryman inquired, in English, if we had passed a party of Americans, and the American minister, on the road. The question was an awkward one; I laughed outright, and matters were taking a very ridiculous turn, when one of our escort opportunely coming up, introduced us to Dr. Livingston, American Consul in Leon, by whom we were duly presented to the accompanying officers. The scene was sufficiently ludicrous all round, and I thought the seriousness of our new friends was strongly tried. I might have enjoyed the affair very much, had I not been at once informed that a large company of gentlemen from the city, a hundred or two in number, with the principal officers of State, and the Bishop of the church, in person, at their head, were coming out to meet us. But when it was added that they had already passed the convent, and were not half a mile distant, I was horrified. I entreated the doctor to ride back, and say that we would join them beyond the convent, but before the movement could be made, the whole cavalcade came in sight, and descrying our group, approached us at a gallop. There was no retreat, and we moved on in despair. First came the Bishop in his purple robes, splendidly mounted, flanked by a group of priests, and followed by a train of officers, in uniforms absolutely dazzling in the noon-day sun! ....

Suffice it to say, we met, and there were congratulations, and welcomes, and many fine things said,—and if we did not leave a sufficiently distinct idea of republican simplicity on the minds of our new friends, it will be useless for any one to undertake it hereafter. They were, however, all well-bred caballeros, and with true Spanish politesse, kept their gravity, which, W. remarked, displayed “extraordinary self-control!” I nevertheless observed that some of the younger officers had occasion to wipe their faces with their handkerchiefs very often, and were long about it. But then it was a hot day, and they had ridden fast.

I was, however, determined not to enter the city in my present plight, and when we reached the convent, excused myself, and left the cavalcade to proceed, promising to rejoin it in a few minutes. The “convento” was only an Indian hut, of which I incontinently, and not in the best of humors, took possession, politely turning the family, old ones, babies, pigs, and chickens, all out of doors. Ben produced the diplomatic suit, which I had not seen since it left the tailor’s, and displayed extraordinary address in adjusting it. Ten minutes sufficed to complete the transformation, but I discarded the chapeau, and stuck to the broad-brimmed Panama which I had purchased in Granada, much to Ben’s dissatisfaction, who was bent on retrieving the credit of the legation.

We overtook the cavalcade a few hundred yards from where we had left them. They had halted beneath some large trees, and our escort, which had meantime come up, we also found on the spot, marshalled in the same order as when we left Granada. A dashing young officer rode up to me, as I approached, and begged to be permitted “to carry the glorious flag of El Norte,” which request was, of course, graciously acceded to. Matters now began to take a more promising turn, and as per programme of arrangements, I found myself, with Dr. Livingston and the bishop, placed at the head of the procession, which formed in column, three deep. The Bishop, Don George de Viteri y Ungo, impressed me, from the first, as a man far above the ordinary mark, well informed, courteous, and affable, with manners which would have graced the proudest courts of Europe. I soon found that he had been in the United States, had travelled extensively in the Old World, and altogether knew more of men and things than could have been surmised of an ecclesiastic, however high in station, in this secluded part of the world. I was nevertheless taken a little aback, I must confess, when he inquired of me about Forrest and Miss Clifton, and whether they were yet on the stage. He had seen them both at the Park Theatre, and had been delighted, he said, with their acting, although he had not understood a word which they said. I told him that the Park had been burned, and that it probably would never be rebuilt, and concurred with him in regarding it as a “great pity.” Mr. Clay, too, he had heard speak, and had felt all he said, without understanding his language. “Ah!” exclaimed the Bishop, “after all, there is more in the feeling of the speaker himself, and in his manner, than in his words;—to arouse the sympathy of the hearer is the true secret of oratory!” Not bad criticism, I thought, for Nicaragua.

As we advanced over the plain, the cultivated fields became more numerous, and the evidences of industry more abundant. It was with something, I thought, of the spirit of prophecy, that the Bishop swept his hand around the horizon and said, “We want only an infusion of your people, to make this broad land an Eden of beauty, and the garden of the world.” He pointed out to me the nine volcanoes which skirted the plain; the gigantic Viejo; the regular Telica; the riven Orota, and lofty Momotombo, which now rose clear and distinct before our eyes; these, said he, are the works of the Great Architect, and that, the puny achievement of man! I looked in the direction which he pointed, and there rose the towers of the great Cathedral, white and massive above a wilderness of tiled roofs, foliage, and fruit trees. Notwithstanding his philosophical depreciation, I thought there was an expression of pride in the face of the Bishop, as his eyes rested upon this architectural wonder of Nicaragua; nor was his complacency unwarranted, for the Cathedral of Leon is a structure not unworthy a place beside the most imposing sacred edifices of either continent.

We now rapidly approached the city, and entered the suburbs, which corresponded entirely with those of Granada and Masaya. Here was drawn up the carriage of the Bishop, in readiness for use, in case I should prefer it. I however, chose to continue on horseback, and the polite Bishop commended my choice. Passing the Indian barrio, or suburb of Guadelupe, the people falling on their knees as the Bishop approached, we descended abruptly into a deep ravine, at the bottom of which flowed a clear and beautiful stream, and ascended upon the other side by a broad, graded way, paved with stones, into the city proper. I had merely time to observe that the streets were in gala dress, when the thunder of cannon, and the sudden pealing of the bells of the churches, above which those of the cathedral rose full and distinct, proclaimed our arrival. “Vivan los Estados Unidos del Norte!” exclaimed the officer who bore my flag, as he dashed at full speed to the head of the column. The whole party caught the spirit, and echoed the “viva,” and the Bishop himself waved his hand and cried “Adelantamos!” On! I remember but little more, except a confused sound of trampling horses, shouting people, the ringing of bells, the thunder of cannon, and a cloud of dust, until we rode into the great plaza. Here the entire garrison was drawn up, who presented arms and cheered for the United States as we entered. The band struck up a martial air, and the ladies of the metropolis waved their handkerchiefs to us from the balconies of the House of the Government. We halted for a moment, and the alcalde mayor made a speech, which was delightfully short, but of which, amidst the clangor of the bells and the shouts of the multitude, I heard not a word. I responded in three sentences, which I presume were equally unintelligible; and then we moved our amidst a dense throng, to the house of the American Consul, above which the stripes and stars floated proudly to the breeze. It was with unmingled feelings of satisfaction that, shaking hands with the Bishop, and bowing to the rest of the cavalcade, I spurred through the archway into the court of the Dr.’s residence, and away from the noise and the dust of the crowded streets. But the public curiosity was not yet satisfied, and the people thronged into the courtyard to stare at the apparition from El Norte. Nor was it until the gateway was closed and barred that we succeeded in escaping from the multitude, and even then the iron gratings of the windows were festooned with inquisitive boys, who seemed to hang one to another like swarming bees. Some considerate alcaldes, however, by a judicious application of their canes, finally cleared these away, and then we got an hour for privacy and dinner.

High mass had been said the day before in the church of La Mercedes for our safe arrival, and now a Te Deum was chaunted in the cathedral in acknowledgement of the protection which Heaven had vouchsafed to us. In the evening fireworks were let off in the plaza, and we were serenaded by the band attached to the garrison, which, to our surprise, we found almost as effective as any that we had ever heard.

We found that the city was not free from the alarm which had existed at Granada; and although no outbreak had occurred in this part of the state, the government, acting on the principle that “precaution is the parent of safety,” had taken the most complete measures to guard against surprise, and to check promptly the first indications of disorder. The roof and towers of the cathedral, an impregnable fortress in itself, were occupied by troops; so too was the church of La Mercedes; and the evacuated convent attached to it had been converted into a cuartel of cavalry. It was immediately opposite the house of Dr. Livingston, and I observed that the horses of the lancers were kept constantly saddled, in readiness for action at a moment’s warning. Advanced posts of troops were also established in every principal street, and after the eight o’clock bell had struck, there was no cessation of the fierce “Quien vivas?” and wakeful “Alertes!” of the sentinels.

The day subsequent to our arrival was devoted to receiving visits from the functionaries and leading citizens of Leon. Amongst them all, none impressed me more favorably than the Presbitero Dr. Disiderio de la Quadra, then Vicar of the bishopric, a man of great dignity of manners, and of a character above the remotest taint of suspicion. He was accompanied by a number of the dignitaries of the church, and spoke of his country, its wants, and prospects, with a force and freedom which I had little expected to hear. Indeed, I soon discovered that the better portion of the population fully comprehended the evils under which they suffered, and only required that exterior influences should be exercised in their favor, instead of against them, as it had been hitherto, in order to effect their removal. The revolutionary spirit had exhausted itself, and the universal desire was now for peace and quiet, stability in public affairs, and moderation in their administration. All hoped much from the sympathy and co-operation of the United States, and took new energy from the circumstance that they had attracted the attention and awakened the interest of its government. No better evidence of the truth of these observations could be desired, than the feeling exhibited on the occasion of my official presentation, which took place a few days after my arrival, publicly, in the hall of the Government House, which was appropriately fitted up for the occasion. The proceedings were characterized by the greatest decorum, and a degree of enthusiasm which it would hardly be proper for me to attempt to describe. Indeed, in introducing my own address on the occasion, with the reply of Señor Ramirez, the Supreme Director of the State, I am conscious that I am incurring the risk of being misunderstood and misrepresented; but as I have set out with the purpose of vindicating the public sentiment of Nicaragua, not less than of making known the character and condition of its people, I conceive that I cannot do better than to introduce occasional documents of this kind, especially when they contribute to the completeness of my narrative, and to the understanding of the present posture of affairs in that country.