[Illustration:  MASTER MONTEZUMA IS TALKED TO BY HIS FATHER.]

On the evening of the fifth day of sorrow, the priests gathered the people together in a procession and marched to a temple, about two leagues from the city.  Here they would sit like bumps on a log until midnight, and then, when the constellation which we call the Pleiades came exactly overhead, the danger was over.  Two sticks were rubbed together over the breast of a captive who had been selected for the sacrifice, until fire was produced by the friction, the funeral pile was lighted, the body burned, and messengers, many of whom could run long distances, at the rate of seven or eight miles an hour, would light their torches and spread the joyful news of danger averted, while carrying the “new fire” into all parts of the empire.  Then would follow a regular old-fashioned frolic, something like a centennial,—­a jollification few had ever seen and most would see but once in a life-time.  There must be no drunkenness, however; that was a high crime, in some instances punished by death.  If the intemperate party, man or woman, was over seventy years of age, however, no notice was taken of it,—­they were old, and had rights and privileges not granted to younger members of the community.

[Illustration:  CARRYING THE BRIDE.]

Master M. had much to learn about deities.  At the head of these stood one, infinite, supreme ruler, “the unknown God,” and next beneath him came Tezcatlipoca, the “son of the world,” supposed to be the creator of the earth, Huitzilopotchli was the god of war, a sort of Mars, but with very much more name.  Then there was the god of air, Quetzatcoatl, who controlled vegetation, metals, and the politics of the country.  Here is something Master M. was taught to believe of him: 

When this god, whom we will call Q, was on earth, vegetation was so wonderfully prolific that a single ear of corn was all a man could carry.  Everything the people needed grew spontaneously.  Cotton grew more beautifully tinted than the dyers of the present time could color it.  Richest perfumes loaded temperate breezes, and everywhere the gaudiest-colored birds filled the air with most entrancing harmonies.  Q had some little difficulty, however, with the rest of the gods, and was obliged to leave his little paradise.  When he embarked in his wizard snake-skin canoe on the shore of the gulf, he told his friends that his descendents would one day return and bless the land as he had done, and that they would be like him,—­tall, fine looking, with dark hair, white skins, and flowing beards.  Alas! this belief was in no small degree the cause of their ruin; for the invading Spaniards quite nearly answered this description of Q’s descendants.

[Illustration:  THE WEDDING OF MONTEZUMA.]