212 ON THE FEONTIEK. 



we did our best endeavour to give an account of ourselves, 

 and obtain news and directions for our next day's journey ; 

 but, unfortunately, our kind host spoke such an awful 

 mixture of Hispano-Mexican and a, to us, strange Indian 

 dialect, as to be almost, sometimes quite, unintelligible ; 

 while what we said seemed nearly as incomprehensible to 

 him. The sign-language he knew not, and the conver- 

 sation was for awhile more animated than instructive. 

 After a time our entertainer made us understand that, 

 conversation being too difficult, he would indulge us with 

 a little music, being very fond of it, and informed us 

 that he was grande musico. Then he produced with a 

 flourish a flute ; exhibiting it with evident pride, and 

 giving us to understand that he had made it himself. 

 The flute was a large hollow reed, the joints of which 

 had been bored out, and it was bound in places with 

 sheep sinew and raw hide. It had two keys of hardwood, 

 and emitted a feeble, melancholy, droning sound. The 

 grande musico apparently knew but one tune I call 

 it a tune, because I do not know what else to call it, 

 although, frankly, 1 could not discover any tune in the 

 sounds made by him. Perhaps he played classical music. 

 Perhaps 'the music of the future!' The melody (?) he 

 indulged in always seemed as if it was going to end, and 

 never did. This performance was occasionally enlivened 

 by an appropriate accompaniment from an outraged wolf, 

 or the bleatings of some restless sheep. We, however, 

 did not appreciate it. So, after expressing in impressive 

 pantomime the sentiments proper to the occasion, we went 

 to sleep, leaving the Minstrel of the Mountain still appa- 



