THE FEUDAL LORD.

And they had!

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Both for business and for pleasure, Jack often took the thirty-mile ride down into the hot country, where the cast-iron old chieftain lived on his hacienda in the midst of his vassals, dispensing open-handed hospitality and rough justice to all the countryside, like a feudal lord in the middle ages. Long and interesting were the conversations that took place round his eccentric board, where the soup was frequently served in delicate Sèvres teacups, and the kid, roasted whole in honour of the visitor, was eaten with blackhandled Birmingham knives, but with forks hammered out of blocks of solid silver! The General had been a strong Imperialist in Maximilian's time, and had done his best to save the gentle, kindly, deceived, and betrayed Emperor from his fate. He was preparing for a feint on Querétaro, when the Republicans got wind of his intentions and sent 5000 regular troops against the General and his handful of clansmen, who, after five days' and nights' incessant fighting high up on the pinecrowned precipices of the sierra, were too utterly exhausted and reduced in number to commence a campaign. But they were victorious over regulars who numbered ten to one against them; besides, they so harried the retreat of their assailants that

only 2000 ever reached the plains again, out of the 5000 who a month before had started confidently for the sierra.

Jack rode one night with the Cacique over the battle-ground of twenty years before, where the latter had fought and struggled over those narrow ridges, with friends and clansmen falling fast around him. But the enemy fell still faster below, as they crawled and scrambled up the inaccessible gullies, striving to win the ridge, only to find that when won, there was a still higher and steeper crest beyond, also lined with glittering arms, as tireless and deadly beneath the cold bright moon as through the long hot day. The General began to tell his eager listener the story of that desperate fight, and it is best repeated in his own words.

"This is the place," he said. "We lined this ridge nearly all the second day, and I had my men strung out for half-a-mile, although there were less than 600 of us! But we were all well armed, and knew how to shoot straight; besides, we had fair cover, while our enemies had next to none. Still they were brave men, and came up time after time, though we shot them down in crowds. They made their best charge up that arroya you see to the right. They massed 1000 men there, and I saw it

HOLDING THE SIERRAS.

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was impossible for us to hold the ridge longer, especially as they were flanking us besides; so I let them come to within fifty yards. All were 'men of the plains,' and it took them a long time to climb our sierras; so at fifty yards I gave them another volley, and then every man of us rushed down the other side of the hill and scaled the ridge behind, so that when they reached our former position, we were all safe at the top of the next hill, and our enemies had another stiff climb before them! I left a third of my men there to hold the ground and to skirmish, while with the rest I marched nearly all night. Before morning we got round behind the troops, to the crest of the hill they had driven us in from the preceding day, so that they had to face about and do their work all over again. We also captured some baggage and ammunition. It was pretty hard work, though, for we never got any sleep, and no food either, except a few tortillas the women managed to bring us from time to time. Well, it's long over now; and down there in the glade they say that more than 400 of them are lying! But, quien sabe, there was no time to bury the dead in those days!"

How devoted his tribesmen were to him, probably the General himself scarcely realised. A few days after listening to the foregoing story, Jack, who

was very much interested in the whole history of the revolution, was talking to one of the peons, and asking if he too had been in the war. The man replied in the affirmative, and Jack then inquired if he had served with Maximilian or with the Liberals.

"Maximilian!" said the man; "I seem to remember the name, and I think he was on the same side that I was, but I was fighting for General -- !"

He had never troubled even to ask what the war was about! His Cacique told him to fight, and he had done his best unquestioningly. It seemed like a dream to Jack to find still existing in the heart of Mexico the old clannish feeling which in long-past generations enabled the squire of every English village to march to battle followed by the men who had grown up beside him, and were willing to die for and with their master and friend.

CHAPTER XIV.

MEXICAN HISTORY AND LEGEND.

THE EMPEROR MAXIMILIAN AND HIS FATE-HIS FALSE COUNSELLORS-HIS CHIVALROUS COURAGE-THE SIEGE OF QUERÉTARO— PRESIDENT JUAREZ-GENERAL DIAZ-A CASE OF DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND-THE STRANGE MIXTURE OF ABSOLUTE FREEDOM AND MILITARY DESPOTISM IN MEXICO-PROGRESS OF AFFAIRS AT THE MINES-A BREAKDOWN OF MACHINERY-DIVIDENDS STILL IN

THE DISTANCE-HEROISM OF AN INDIAN LAD A MEXICAN SUPERSTITION-THE LEGEND OF DON ISIDORO DE LA VEGAHIS HATRED OF THE SPANIARDS-DON MIGUEL GOMEZ-DON ISIDORO'S VENGEANCE-SENT A PRISONER TO THE MINES-HIS PUNISHMENT-A WILD TRAGEDY.

THE subject of Maximilian's martyrdom is full of pathetic interest, and it seems impossible to leave it without a few words about the lonely figure on the Cerro Del Campana, which for a short space held the world breathless with pity and suspense. Even his bitterest foes allowed that the Emperor was an honest man, and one who strove anxiously for what he believed to be the good of his adopted country, a man whose brain was filled with