of embossed leather or rich embroidered silk heavily mounted with silver.  Above all this gorgeousness sat the caballeros and the donas, in velvet and silk, gold lace and Spanish, jewels and mantillas, and silver-weighted sombreros; a confused mass of color and motion; a living picture, shifting like a kaleidoscope.  Nor was this all:  brown, soberly-dressed old men and women in satin-padded carretas,—­heavy ox-carts on wheels made from solid sections of trees, and driven by a ganan seated on one of the animals; the populace in cheap finery, some on foot, others astride old mules or broken-winded horses, two or three on one lame old hack; all chattering, shouting, eager, interested, impatiently awaiting the bride and a week of pleasure.

In the court-yard and plaza before it the guests of the house were mounted on a caponera of palominas,—­horses peculiar to the country; beautiful creatures, golden-bronze, and burnished, with luxuriant manes and tails which waved and shone like the sparkling silver of a water-fall.  A number were riderless, awaiting the pleasure of the bridal party.  One alone was white as a Californian fog.  He lifted his head and pranced as if aware of his proud distinction.  The aquera and saddle which embellished his graceful beauty were of pink silk worked with delicate leaves in gold and silver thread.  The stirrups, cut from blocks of wood, were elaborately carved.  The glistening reins were made from the long crystal hairs of his mane, and linked with silver.  A strip of pink silk, joined at the ends with a huge rosette, was hung from the high silver pommel of the saddle, depending on the left side,—­a stirrup for my lady’s foot.

A deeper murmur, a sudden lining of sombreros and waving of little hands, proclaimed that the bridal party had appeared, and we hastened down.

Prudencia, the mantilla of the donas depending from a comb six inches high, was attired in a white satin gown with a train of portentous length, and looked like a kitten with a long tail.  Reinaldo was dazzling.  He wore white velvet embroidered with gold; his linen and lace were more fragile than cobwebs; his white satin slippers were clasped with diamond buckles, the same in which his father had married; his jacket was buttoned with diamonds.  His white velvet sombrero was covered with plumes.  Never have I seen so splendid a bridegroom.  I saw Estenega grin; but I maintain that, whatever Reinaldo’s deficiencies, he was a picture to be thankful for that morning.

Dona Trinadad was quietly gowned in gray satin, but Don Guillermo was as picturesque in his way as his son.  His black silk handkerchief had been knotted hurriedly about his head, and the four corners hung upon his neck.  His short breeches were of red velvet, his jacket of blue cloth trimmed with large silver buttons and gold lace; his vest was of yellow damask, his linen embroidered.  Attached to his slippers were enormous silver spurs inlaid with gold, the rowels so long that they scratched more trains than one that day.