he suffered.  On the streets we met the baron who had been with us on our voyage from Tampico.  He told us that after one day in Merida, he and his lady decided that they preferred Progreso, and were stopping there, going down upon the day-train when they wished to visit Merida.  He also warned us that we need never expect to see the forty dollars which we had advanced through the vice-consul, as whatever disposition should be made of our complaint regarding customs charges by the government, no such money was ever known to leave his hands.  Following events entirely confirmed this gentleman’s dire prophecy; neither Mr. Thompson nor Senor Solis have paid the least attention to communications regarding the matter sent after our return to our own country.  It is little likely that the Mexican government refused to refund the payment; but we shall probably never know.

The remarks of the baron suggested a new line of action.  Why longer wait in Merida for our boat?  Progreso is cleaner, cooler, enjoys a sea breeze, and gives as good living for less than half the price we were paying.  For comfort, for the benefit of our sick man, for the advantage of our pocket, we would be better off at Progreso than in Merida.  While there were cases of small-pox in the little seaport, there were none of yellow fever.  In every way it looked attractive, and on Monday morning we left, and found ourselves, before noon, comfortably located in the curious little hotel, La Estrella de Oro, in Progreso.  To be sure, our rooms were mere stalls, being separated from each other by board partitions scarcely eight feet in height, and without ceiling, so that it was impossible to escape the conversation in neighboring rooms at night.  The table, however, was excellent, and the price, compared with what we had been paying, economy itself.  Having seen my companions comfortably located, I returned to Merida, where there was still some business demanding attention.  This time I found a room in the Hotel Concordia, which was the most comfortable I enjoyed in Merida, although the price of $4 for the mere room was high.  The day before, we had seen the Battle of Flowers of the carnival.  No flowers figured in it; it consisted of a long procession of carriages, mostly private and mostly good; they were filled with well-dressed young people, of whom few were masked; all were supplied with confetti, which was thrown in handfuls by those in the carriages upon those in carriages going in the other direction, for the procession was double.  Usually, girls and ladies threw at men and boys, who reciprocated the compliment; the ladies had their hair loose and flowing, and wore no hats; so that in a little time it was filled with the brilliant bits of paper.  Everyone, also, had long strips of colored paper, rolled up like ribbons, which were now and then launched, either with no direct aim or at some person; as these strips unrolled they trailed prettily in the air, and everyone caught at the trailing