CHAPTER IV.

Contributions.-El Baranco de Guaramal.-Volcano of Izalco.-Depredations of Rascon.-Zonzonate.-News from Guatimala.-Journey continued.—Aguisalco.-A peneca.-Mountain of Aguachapa.-Subterranean Fires.-Aguachapa.Defeat of Morazan.-Confusion and Terror.

THE captain had given me a hint in a led horse which he kept for emergencies, and I had bought one of an officer of General Morazan, who sold him because he would not stand fire, and recommended him for a way he had of carrying his rider out of the reach of bullets. At the distance of two leagues we reached a hacienda where our men were waiting for us with the luggage. It was occupied by a miserable old man alone, with a large swelling under his throat, very common all through this country, the same as is seen among the mountains of Switzerland. While the men were reloading, we heard the tramp of horses, and fifteen or twenty lancers galloped up to the fence; and the leader, a dark, stern, but respectable-looking man about forty, in a deep voice, called to the old man to get ready and mount; the time had come, he said, when every man must fight for his country; if they had done so before, their own ships would be floating on the Atlantic and the Pacific, and they would not now be at the mercy of strangers and enemies. Altogether the speech was a good one, and would have done for a fourth of July oration or a ward meeting at home; but made from the back of a horse by a powerful man, well armed, and with twenty lancers at his heels, it was not pleasant in the ears of the "strangers" for whom it was intended. Really I respected the man's energy, but his expression and manner precluded all courtesies; and though he looked at

LETTER

CARRYING.

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us for an answer, we said nothing. The old man answered that he was too old to fight, and the officer told him then to help others to do so, and to contribute his horses or mules. This touched us again; and taking ours apart, we left exposed and alone an object more miserable as a beast than his owner was as a man. The old man said this was his all. The officer, looking as if he would like a pretext for seizing ours, told him to give her up; and the old man, slowly untying her, without a word led her to the fence, and handed the halter across to one of the lancers. They laughed as they received the old man's all, and pricking the mule with their lances, galloped off in search of more "contributions."

Unluckily, they continued on our road, and we feared that parties were scouring the whole country to Zonzonate. This brought to mind a matter that gave us much uneasiness. As the mail-routes were all broken up, and there was no travelling, I was made letter-carrier all the way from Nicaragua. I had suffered so much anxiety from not receiving any letters myself, that I was glad to serve any one that asked me; but I had been treated with great frankness by the "party" at San Salvador, and was resolved not to be the means of communicating anything to their enemies; and with this view, always asked whether the letters contained any political information, never taking them until assured that they did not. But many of them were to Mr. Chatfield and the other Ingleses in Guatimala. There was a most bitter feeling against Mr. Chatfield, and the rudeness of this really respectable-looking man gave us some idea of the exasperation against foreigners generally; and as they were identified in the revolution, the directions alone might expose us to danger with any band of infuriated partisans who might take it into their

heads to search us on the road. If I had had a safe opportunity, I should have sent them back to San Salvador. I could not intrust them with the old man, and we deliberated whether it was not better to return, and wait the crisis at the capital; but we thought it an object to get near the coast, and perhaps within reach of a vessel, and determined to continue. In about an hour we passed the same party dismounted, at some distance from the road, before the door of a large hacienda, with some of the men inside, and, fortunately, so far off that, though we heard them hallooing at us, we could not understand what they said. Soon after we descended a wild mountain-pass, and entered El Baranco de Guaramal, a narrow opening, with high perpendicular sides, covered with bushes, wild flowers, and moss, and roofed over by branches of large trees, which crossed each other from the opposite banks. A large stream forced its way through the ravine, broken by trunks of trees and huge stones. For half a league our road lay in the bed of the stream, knee-deep for the mules. In one place, on the right-hand side, a beautiful cascade precipitated itself from the top of the bank almost across the ravine. A little before dark, in a grassy recess at the foot of the bank, a pig-merchant had encamped for the night. His pigs were harnessed with straps and tied to a tree, and his wife was cooking supper; and when we told him of the foraging party at the other end of the ravine, he trembled for his pigs. Some time after dark we reached the hacienda of Guaramal. There was plenty of sacate in an adjoining field, but we could not get any one to cut it. The major-domo was an old man, and the workmen were afraid of snakes. Bating this, however, we fared well, and had wooden bedsteads to sleep on; and in one corner was a small space partitioned off for the major-domo and his wife.

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Before daylight we were in the saddle, and rode till eleven, when we stopped at a small village to feed our mules and avoid the heat of the day. At three we started. Toward evening I heard once more the deep rumbling noise of the Volcano of Izalco, sounding like distant thunder. We passed along its base, and stopped at the same house at which I had put up on my visit to the volcano. The place was in a state of perfect anarchy and misrule. Since my departure, Rascon, rendered more daring by the abject policy of the gov ernment, had entered Zonzonate, robbed the customhouse again, laid contributions upon some of the citi zens, thence marched to Izalco, and quartered his whole band upon the town. Unexpectedly, he was surprised at night by a party of Morazan's soldiers; he himself escaped in his shirt, but nineteen of his men were killed and his band broken up. Lately the soldiers were called off to join Morazan's expedition, and the dispersed band emerged from their hiding-places. Some were then living publicly in the town, perfectly lawless; had threatened to kill the alcalde if he attempted to disturb them, and kept the town in a state of terror. Among those who reappeared I was told there was a young American del Norte, whom I recognised, from the description, as Jemmy, whom I had put on board his ship at Acajutla. He and the other American had deserted, and attempted to cross over to the Atlantic on foot. On the way they fell in with Rascon's band and joined them. The other man was killed at the time of the rout, but Jemmy escaped. I was happy to hear that Jemmy, by his manners and good conduct, had made a favourable impression upon the ladies of Izalco. He remained only three days, and whither he had gone no one knew.

While listening to this account we heard a noise in the street, and looking out of the window, saw a man on the ground, and another striking at him with a white club, which by the moonlight looked like the blade of a broadsword or machete. A crowd gathered, mostly of women, who endeavoured to keep him off; but he struck among them with blows that would have killed the man if they had hit him. He was one of the Rascon gang, a native of the town, and known from boyhood as a bad fellow. All called him by name, and, more by entreaties than force, made him desist. As he walked off with several of his companions, he said that the man was a spy of Morazan, and the next time he met him he would kill him. The poor fellow was senseless; and as the women raised up his head, we saw with horror hairs white as snow, and the face of a man of seventy. He was all in rags, and they told us that he was a beggar and crazy; that he had given no provocation whatever; but the young scoundrel, in passing, happened to fix his eyes upon him, and calling him a spy of Morazan, knocked him down with his club. Very soon the crowd dispersed, and the women remained to take care of the old man. These were times which required the natural charity of woman to be aided by supernatural strength. Every woman dreaded that her husband, son, or brother should cross the street at night, for fear of quarrels and worse weapons than clubs; and we saw five women, one with a candle, without a single man or boy to help them, support the old man across the street, and set him up with his back against the side of the house. Afterward a woman came to the door and called to the woman in our house, that if the young man passed again he would kill him; and they went out again with a can