FAREWELL TO THE MACHO. 



373 



worst roads that mule ever travelled. He stood tied 

 to the door of the convent ; saw the luggage, and even 

 his own saddle, carried away by hand, and seemed 

 to have a presentiment that something unusual was 

 going on. I had often been solicited to sell him, but 

 no money could have tempted me. He was in poorer 

 condition than when we reached Palenque. Deprived 

 of corn and exposed to the dreadful rains, he was 

 worse than when worked hard and fed well every day, 

 and in his drooping state seemed to reproach me for 

 going away and leaving him forlorn. I threw my arms 

 around his neck ; his eyes had a mournful expression, 

 and at that moment he forgot the angry prick of the 

 spur. I laid aside the memory of a toss from his back 

 and ineffectual attempts to repeat it, and we remem- 

 bered only mutual kind offices and good-fellowship. 

 Tried and faithful companion, where are you now ? I 

 left him, with two others, tied at the door of the convent, 

 to be taken by the sexton to the prefect at Palenque, 

 there to recover from the debilitating influence of the 

 early rains, and to roam on rich pasture-grounds, un- 

 touched by bridle or spur, until I should return to 

 mount him again. 



