A GRAVE IN A FOREIGN LAND. 39 



white-faced Saxon to the Indian and African, stood 

 round him : rude nurses for one used to the comforts 

 of an English home. I recollected that Yzabal was 

 noted as a sickly place ; Mr. Montgomery, who pub- 

 lished an interesting account of his visit to Guatimala 

 in 1838, had told me that it was running the gauntlet 

 for life even to pass through it, and I trembled for the 

 poor Englishman. I remembered, too, what it is 

 strange that I had before forgotten, that here Mr. Shan- 

 non, our charge to Central America, died. Philip was 

 with me, and knew where Mr. Shannon was buried, 

 but in the dark he could not point out the spot. I in- 

 tended to set out early in the morning ; and afraid that, 

 in the hurry of departure, I might neglect altogether 

 the sacred duty of visiting, in this distant place, the 

 grave of an American, I returned to the house and 

 requested Serior Ampudia to accompany me. We 

 crossed the square, passed through the suburbs, and in 

 a few minutes were outside of the town. It was so 

 dark that I could scarcely see my way. Crossing a 

 deep guUey on a plank, we reached a rising ground, 

 open on the right, stretching away to the Golfo Dolce, 

 and in front bounded by a gloomy forest. On the 

 top was a rude fence of rough upright poles, enclo- 

 sing the grave of some relative of Sefior Ampudia ; 

 and by the side of this was the grave of Mr. Shannon. 

 There was no stone or fence, or hardly any elevation, 

 to distinguish it from the soil around. It was a gloomy 

 burial-place for a countryman, and I felt an involun- 

 tary depression of spirit. A fatality had hung over 

 our diplomatic appointment to Central America : Mr. 

 Williams, Mr. Shannon, Mr. Dewitt, Mr. Leggett, all 

 who had ever held it, were dead. I recollected an ex- 

 pression in a letter from a near relative of Mr. Dewitt : 



