:::::::::C TWO BIRD-LOVERS IN MEXICO jfe-::: 



of the innumerable liitching-posts, sings to the ac- 

 companiment of a guitar, in a clear tenor voice, 

 Paloma, and that most beautiful of all Mexican 

 songs — La Perjura. An old, old shrivelled Mexican 

 is squatting in a corner and mumbling to himself. 

 When we speak to him, he answers in the quaintest of 

 old Spanish proverbs, but will not talk of himself or 

 of his life. The moonrise was still an hour away, and 

 Ave watched the volcano burn on and thouoht of the 

 last great eruption, when a sheet of flame shot high in 

 air, and huge stones were thrown out, flaming in great 



THE TWIX MOUNTAINS AT NIGHT 



circles of lire, while sand and pebbles rained down 

 upon all the country hereabouts. 



At last the lop-sided moon drifted above the oppo- 

 site wall of the barranca, and we said Adlos ! and 



<^ 358 ^ 



