Page:Our Neighbor-Mexico.djvu/161

Rh and likely to be on my back with this fierce and unused riding. So we go gayly on to Regla.

The hills are well stripped by the charcoal vender and the steam-engine devourer, and look like some of the brown, barren, rocky sides of New Hampshire in July. The sun pours a midday torrid heat upon us, and makes us like that too-willing lass of whom it is said that, when her lover said '"Wilt thou?' she wilted. "So did we, though the heat that wilted us was from without, and not within. San Miguel shone out on the plain below, said to be one of the prettiest of Mexican towns. Our road lies to the left, and its beauty is left also. The plains in which this beauty lingers stretch far away to the east and north, bounded by tall dark mountains that seem to jealously guard the sleeping beauty below. At the hour of noon our tired steeds and more tired selves enter the gates of the hacienda of Regla.

This hacienda lies in a ravine, with a high wall going up to and on its outer edge, and with entrances well barred and guarded. Before its gate is a fine fountain, set in the side of the hill, flowing through a lion's mouth inserted in the rocks. Around the carved stone rim of the basin women and children are filling their water-pots. The water tastes delicious after our hot and dusty ride; far better, I doubt not, than the brandies and other "hot and rebellious liquors" would have done, which are still too freely offered, and far too freely imbibed.

The English have brought valuable money and men to this country, but have not yet brought total abstinence; and too many Americans are still ashamed of that teetotal excellence which, though it has not entirely conquered that land, has given its laborers and leaders more than half the prosperity and comfort they enjoy. If it could come here and drive out the legion of devils which the cup of inebriety introduces, it would be a blessing of blessings to all the people. Amen, so let it be!

Leaving our horses at the gate, we are led by the house where dinner (they call it breakfast here) is awaiting us, under vast arches, alongside of a paved brook, now nearly waterless, and whose blocks