A VOldE FROM THE RUINS. 



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CHAPTER XIX. 



A Voice from the Ruins.— Buying Bread.— Arrival of Padres.— Cura of Palenque. 

 — Card Playing.— Sunday. — Mass. — A Dinner Party. — Mementoes of Home. — 

 Dinner Customs. — Return to the Ruins.— A marked Change. — Terrific Thun- 

 der. — A Whirlwind.— A Scene of the Sublime and Terrible. 



The third day I heard from the ruins a voice of wail- 

 ing. Juan had upset the lard, and every drop was 

 gone. The imploring letter I received roused all my 

 sensibilities ; and, forgetting everything in the emergen- 

 cy, I hurried to the alcalde's, and told him a hog must 

 die. The alcalde made difficulties, and to this day I 

 cannot account for his concealing from me a fact of 

 which he must have been aware, to wit, that on that 

 very night a porker had been killed. Very early the 

 next morning I saw a boy passing with some strings of 

 fresh pork, hailed him, and he guided me to a hut in 

 the suburbs, but yesterday the dwelling of the unfortu- 

 nate quadruped. I procured the portion of some hon- 

 est Palenquian, and returned, happy in the conscious- 

 ness of making others so. That day was memorable, 

 too, for another piece of good fortune ; for a courier ar- 

 rived from Ciudad Real with despatches for Tobasco, 

 and a back-load of bread on private account. As soon 

 as the intelligence reached me, I despatched a messen- 

 ger to negotiate for the whole stock. Unfortunately, it 

 was sweetened, made up into diamonds, circles, and 

 other fanciful forms, about two inches long and an inch 

 thick, to be eaten with chocolate, and that detestable 

 lard was oozing out of the crust. Nevertheless, it was 



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