ANGOSTURA DE PAINE. 253 
up, and said something aloud, calling him by name, and the answer 
was so completely that of an idiot, that I turned to E——to avoid 
more discourse with the unhappy creature. I spoke of Santiago and 
the Director, which I have not done here on account of Dofia Ana 
Maria; and of the 18th of September, the approaching anniversary 
of the independence of the country ; and asking him if he, as captain 
of militia, would not be on parade with the lancers, again I saw the 
tonto’s eyes fixed on me, with an intelligence and an expression that 
interested me anew, and I thought that perhaps his state of mind 
was owing to some misfortune sprung out of the civil war; so I talked 
on, and mentioned more especially the Director’s promise of backing 
any request to be made to the Assembly for a general amnesty for 
all persons held criminal for political opinions, and recal te all exiles. 
There was something in the faces of all that induced me to repeat 
this distinctly again; and then I went on with the drawing I was 
about, and E—— went away: I then heard the tonto speak about 
me in a whisper to Dofia Ana Maria, who answered him in the same 
tone, and then she spoke to me; and the conversation led me to say 
to the tonto, “ And why should not you, who live in the country and 
have your farm, be happy as any of us ?” He answered quickly ; and 
this time his voice and language corresponded with the dignity of 
his figure and his fine features — “J happy with farms, and peons, and 
cattle! No! for years I was wretched, and the first moment of 
happiness I owe to you.”— “Indeed !”’ said I. “ Then you are not what 
you seem ?”— He started up and stretched himself to his full height, 
and his eye flashed fire. — “ No,— I will no longer play this fool’s 
part ; it is unworthy the son of Xabiera, the nephew of Jose Miguel 
Carrera. I am that unhappy exile Lastra, reduced to fly from desert 
to desert, to hide me in caves, and to feed with the fowls of the air, 
till my limbs are palsied and my youth is wasted ; and my crime has 
been to love Chile too well. Oh, my country ! what would I not suffer 
for thee!” I had been immoveable during this burst of feeling: but 
now I rose astonished, as I believe all present were; not indeed at 
the disclosure, — for only de Roos besides myself had any thing to 
