together.  They were a motley crew.  At Jiquipilas a company was encamped in the plaza.  Our mule, Chontal, took particular delight in running into such bands of marching soldiers as we encountered, causing no end of trouble.  On one occasion, as a group approached us, he ran forward at a lively pace into their midst and tangled himself up with a party of prisoners,—­apparently soldiers in disgrace,—­who, tied together with ropes, were under guard.  As we rode up to capture him, I felt a hand at that coat pocket which contained our money-bag and, turning suddenly, found one of the guard trying to draw the bag of money from my pocket.  I struck at him with my whip and he slunk away.

The last day of travel before reaching Tuxtla Gutierrez, we passed one of the few pretty places on this dreary road, Agua Bendita.  At this point the road makes a great curve, almost like a horseshoe; at the middle of this curve there rises to the right of the road a wall of limestone rock the plainly defined strata of which are thrown into a gentle anticlinal fold.  The upper layers of this arch were covered with shrubs, clinging to its face, while the lower layers were tapestried with a curtain of delicate ferns, which hung down over the open arch below, under which the road passed.  Water trickled through this limestone mass and dripped and collected in little basins, which had been excavated in the ledge close by the roadside.  Some grateful passer had set up little crosses by the water pools, and they were gay that day with purple orchids plucked from a near-by tree.  In this tree, amid the brilliant clumps of yet unplucked blossoms of the orchids, were a number of toucans with their enormous, brightly colored bills—­the picos de canoa (canoe beaks) of the people.

Tuxtla Gutierrez is a town of some thousands population, with a central plaza where the local band plays almost every evening, and a market place of exceptional interest.  Here, as nowhere else, we saw crowds of the purest indians in native dress.  Chiapas is the home of at least thirteen tribes, each with its own language.  Among the most interesting indians we saw in the market were the Tzotzils, from Chamula, who wore heavy, black woolen garments.  The indians of the town and its immediate vicinity are Zoques.

Few Mexican governors possess the breadth of view and the intelligent enterprise of Governor Leon, whom we encountered here.  A man of middle age, of fair stature though slight in build, with dark complexion, iron-gray hair, beard and whiskers carefully trimmed after the French fashion, his appearance creates a favorable impression.  He did everything in his power for our comfort and assistance, and supplied us with letters to the jefes politicos of the districts through which we were to pass.  We congratulated him upon the cart-road over which we had come from Zanatepec, an important public work for this part of the world; he told us he began it three years ago