This town is also remembered as the scene of a bloody battle. General Garay, who had lost his way the day before, had here come up, and we jogged along together; but as a Mexican general and escort are a doubtful protection to an unarmed man, if there is any real danger on the road, a prudent traveler will shake them off and travel on alone.
We passed Buena Vista, the fine sugar estate of M. Comonfort, and Aquaguisotla, and slept at Mazatlan, and the next day arrived at the famous city of Chilpanzingo, or City of the Bravos, the centre and focus of the insurrection in the southern provinces. Here, in the public square or plaza, in front of a church built by Cortéz, there was a grand bull-fight, or rather ox-fight, in which great efforts were made to infuse some life into a dozen stupid cattle. These efforts were attended with very indifferent success. A deep barranca extends to the Mescala, the largest river in Southern Mexico, across which we passed on a raft of gourds, propelled by two naked Indians, who swam across, each holding in his right hand a corner of the raft.
AN ILL-CLAD JUDGE.
The next night, after dark, I arrived at a little village, and turned into an open caravansary. The old man of the establishment was very kind, and offered me a mat to lie on, but he had no corn for my horse. After making some inquiries that were a little unpleasant for a man who was traveling without a passport to answer, he said he would procure for me some corn from the alcalde. This village magistrate, who, in the absence of the "Judge of First Instance," is ex officio a judge, was an enormous negro, over six feet in height, whose dignity was not certainly dependent upon his official robes, for a single napkin constituted his whole apparel. He sat upon an ox-skin, which did duty for the wool-sack—the very