90 DON JORGE, THE NEGRO. 
leaving Durango, I resolved to add to my 
weapons of defence’ one of those peculiarly 
terrible dogs which are sometimes to be found 
in this country, and which are very servicea- 
ble to travellers situated as I was. Having 
made my wishes known to a free negro from 
the United States, named George, he recom- 
mended me to a custom-house officer, and a 
very particular friend of his, as being pos- 
sessed of the very article I was in search of. 
Taccordingly called at the house of that fune- 
tionary, in company with my sable informant, 
and we were ushered into a handsome parlor, 
where two or three well-dressed sefioritas 
sat discussing some of the fruitful topics of 
the day. One of them—the officer's wife, as 
it appeared, and a very comely dame she 
was—rose immediately, and, with a great deal 
of ceremonious deference, saluted Senor Don 
Jorge, inviting him at the same time to a 
seat, while I was left to remain perfectly un- 
noticed in my standing position. George ap- 
peared considerably embarrassed, for he had 
not quite forgotten the customs and manners 
of his native country, and was even yet in the 
habit of treating Americans not only with re- 
spect but with humility. He therefore de- 
clined the tendered distinction, and remarked 
that ‘el seftior’ had only come to purchase their 
dog. Upon this, the lady pointed to a kennel 
in a corner, when the very first glimpse of 
the ferocious animal convinced me that he 
was precisely the sort of a customer I wanted 
for a companion. Having therefore paid 
Petes 
