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ed so, for about the time that we left New-York he was a waiter at Delmonico's. It was a strange encounter at this out-of-the-way place, to be brought into close connexion with this well-known restaurant, which in that country seemed the seat of art and fountain of happiness. He was a young Spaniard from Catalonia, who, with a friend, having taken part in some defeated insurrection, fled to Cuba, whence, on the point of being discovered, they escaped to New-York, penniless. Ignorant of the language, with no means of getting a livelihood, both were received by Delmonico as waiters at his restaurant, where the friend rose to be head chocolate-maker; but he was languishing as simple waiter, when Don Simon proposed to him to go to Uxmal. Without knowing where he was going, except that it was to some part of Spanish America, or what was to be his business, he found himself in a retired place, surrounded by Indians whose language he could not understand, and having no one near him with whom he could exchange a word except the major-domo. These major-domos form a class in Yucatan who need sharp looking after. Like the Scotch servant applying for a place, they are not particular about wages, and are satisfied with what little they can pick up about the house. This is the character of most of the major-domos; and the position of the young man, being white, intelligent, and honest, had advantages in that country, as Don Simon intended to give him, as soon as he understood the business, a superintendence over the major-domos of three or four haciendas; but, unfortunately, he wanted energy, felt the want of society and the loneliness of his situation, remembered scenes of enjoyment with his friend and other waiters, and at Uxmal talked of the opera; and when at dinner-time he drew a feeling pic

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ture of Delmonico's saloon, we sympathized with him cordially. In the afternoon, rested and refreshed, we set out for a walk to the ruins. The path led through a noble piece of woods, in which there were many tracks, and our Indian guide lost his way. Mr. C., being unwell, returned to the hacienda. We took another road, and, emerging suddenly from the woods, to my astonishInent came at once upon a large open field strewed with mounds of ruins, and vast buildings on terraces, and pyramidal structures, grand and in good preservation, richly ornamented, without a bush to obstruct the view, and in picturesque effect almost equal to the ruins of Thebes; for these, standing on the flat valley of the Nile, and extending on both sides of the river, nowhere burst in one view upon the sight. Such was the report I made to Mr. Catherwood on my return, who, lying in his hammock unwell and out of spirits, told me I was romancing; but early the next morning we were on the ground, and his comment was that the reality exceeded my description. The place of which I am now speaking was beyond all doubt once a large, populous, and highly civilized city, and the reader can nowhere find one word of it on any page of history. Who built it, why it was located on that spot, away from water or any of those natural advantages which have determined the sites of cities whose histories are known, what led to its abandonment and destruction, no man can tell. The only name by which it is known is that of the hacienda on which it stands. In the oldest deed belonging to the Peon family, which goes back a hundred and forty years, the buildings are referred to, in the boundaries of the estate, as Las Casas de Piedra. This is the only ancient document or record in existence in which the place is mentioned at all, and there are no traditions except the wild superstitions of Indians in regard to particular buildings. The ruins were all exhumed; within the last year the trees had been cut down and burned, and the whole field of ruins was in view, enclosed by the woods and planted with corn. We passed a most interesting and laborious day, and at evening returned to the hacienda to mature our plans for a thorough exploration; but, unfortunately, during the night Mr. Catherwood, I believe affected by the immensity of the work, had a violent attack of fever, which continued upon him in the morning, with a prospect of serious illness. It was Monday, and very early all the Indians of the hacienda, according to their obligation to the master, presented themselves to receive directions from the major-domo for the day's work. In remaining about the house I had an opportunity of learning somewhat of hacienda discipline and the character of the Indians. The hacienda of Uxmal is ten leagues or thirty miles square, but only a small portion is cultivated, and the rest is a mere roaming-ground for cattle. The Indians are of two classes: vaceros, or tenders of cattle and horses, who receive twelve dollars per year, with five almudas of maize per week; and labradores or labourers, who are also called Luneros, from their obligation, in consideration of their drinking the water of the hacienda, to work for the master without pay on Lunes or Monday. These last constitute the great body of the Indians; and, besides their obligation to work on Monday, when they marry and have families, and, of course, need more water, they are obliged to clear, sow, and gather twenty micates of maize for the master, each

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micate being twenty-four square yards. When the bell of the church is struck five times, every Indian is obliged to go forthwith to the hacienda, and, for a real a day and a ration of three cents' worth of maize, do whatever work the master or his delegate, the majordomo, may direct. The authority of the master or his delegate over these is absolute. He settles all disputes between the Indians themselves, and punishes for of. fences, acting both as judge and executioner. If the major-domo punish an Indian unreasonably, the latter may complain to his master; and if the master refuse to give him redress, or himself punishes an Indian unreasonably, the latter may apply for his discharge. There is no obligation upon him to remain on the hacienda unless he is in debt to the master, but, practically, this binds him hand and foot. The Indians are all improvident, anticipate their earnings, never have two days' provisions in store, and never keep any accounts. A dishonest master may always bring them in debt, and generally they are really so. If able to pay off the debt, the Indian is entitled to his immediate discharge; but if not, the master is obliged to give him a writing to the effect following: “Whatever señor wishes to receive the Indian named , can take him, provided he pays me the debt he owes me.” If the master refuses him this paper, the Indian may complain to the justitia. When he has obtained it, he goes round to the different haciendas until he finds a proprietor who is willing to purchase the debt, with a mortgage upon him until it is paid. The account is settled, and the master gives the Indian a writing of this purport: “The account of my former servant being adjusted, which is twenty dollars, and having paid me the said debt, I, his present master, give him this receipt;” and with this he enters into the service of a new master. There is but little chance of his ever paying off the smallest debt. He will never work merely to clear off the encumbrance, considers all he can get on his body clear gain, and virtually, from the time he receives his first dollar, goes through life in bondage, varied only by an occasional change of masters. In general they are mild, amiable, and very docile; bear no malice; and when one of them is whipped and smarting under stripes, with tears in his eyes he makes a bow to the major-domo, and says “buenos tarde, señor;” “good evening, sir.” But they require to be dealt with sternly, and kept at a distance: are uncertain, and completely the creatures of iropulse: and one bad Indian or a bad Mestitzo may in a whole hacienda. They inherit all the indolence of their ancestors, are wedded to old usages, and unwirs to be taught anything new. Don Simon has at:empted to introduce improvements in agriculture, but in vain: they cannot work except in their own old way. Tom Soon brought out the common churn from the United States, and a:empted to introduce the making of butter and cheese; but the Indians could not be taught the use of them. the churns were thrown as de, and handreds of cows warder in the woods unrised. The master is no: &lsed to rair:ain the Indian when socks thosh, as he derives a profit from his lat-cur. it is his interes: to do so; and con broad sounds, as it is an coject always to increase his lat-sistes, it is his intercost to treat them in snch a roarner is to acq-e ārors the Indians a roctricon as a sold master. In the course of the roorning I visited rarry of the boos of the Indians. They were bolt in an cons form of round pses so to isot in the stood and thatched, and some appeared clean and co-for-lilt

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