case we reached the city of Tuxtla on Monday the 11th.  His name was Eustasio; he was a good-natured little Zapotec, from Juchitan originally, but living now at Guvino, Union Hidalgo.  He warned us that, for the first day, we would have to put up with some discomfort, but that, upon reaching his home, he would fit us out magnificently.  He promised to start at four that afternoon, and we were ready; of course, he was not, nor was he at five; so we went back to the hotel for a last good supper, and finally at 5:50 started.  There were four teams and carts in the company, loaded with freight for Hidalgo.  The night was clear, with a fine moon.  The road was over heavy sand.  Sometimes we walked in the moonlight, passing Ixtaltepec at 8:30, and reaching Espinal at ten, where we lost three-quarters of an hour in loading freight.  From there all went well, until a-quarter-of-two in the morning, when we were passing through a country covered with scrub timber.  Here we constantly met many carts heavily loaded; the road was narrow, and several times collisions, due to the falling asleep of one or other of the carreteros, were narrowly escaped.  Finally, one really did take place, between our second cart and a heavily loaded one going in the other direction.  The axle of our cart was broken, and the vehicle totally disabled.  Two hours and a quarter were consumed in making repairs and in reloading.  Here, for the first time, we were impressed with two characteristics in our driver:  first, his ability to swear, surpassing anything that we had ever heard; second, his astonishing skill and ingenuity in repairing any accident or break, which happened on the road.  Before our journey was over, we learned that both these qualities are common to his profession.  It was four o’clock in the morning before we were again upon our way.  All hope of reaching Union Hidalgo at the promised hour disappeared.  Before sunrise, we had turned into the hot, dusty, broad, straight high-road, which, after my journey of 1896, I had devoutly hoped never to see again.  Just as the sun rose, we took quite a walk, killing some parrots, calandrias, and chacalaccas as we walked.  They said that javali—­peccaries,—­were common there.  The day was blisteringly hot, long before we reached Union Hidalgo; hot, hungry and sleepy, we reached our carter’s home, a little before ten in the morning.  The carreta in which we were travelling was here far ahead, and after we had rested half-an-hour or more, Manuel, hot and perspiring, appeared, and reported that the disabled cart had broken down again, and that the other two were delayed by a sick animal.  All came straggling in later.  We had planned to leave here toward evening, travelling all Monday night; but hardly had we rested a little, and eaten dinner, when Eustasio announced that we should spend the night here, and not leave until the following afternoon.  He said the animals were hot and tired from travelling in the daytime, and that to push on