Port of Silan.--Hospitality.--Breakfast.--Walk along the Shore.--
Flamingoes.--Shooting Excursion to Punta Arenas.--Wild Road.--Take
Possession of a Hut.--Great Variety and immense Numbers of Wild
Fowl.--Get Stuck in the Mud.--Flamingoes and Spoonbills.--A ludicrous
Adventure.--Dissection of Birds.--Return to the Port.--The Quartel.--A
Catastrophe.--Departure.--Village of Silan.--Gigantic Mound.--View
from its Top.--Another Mound.--Accounts of Herrera and Cogolludo.--The
Grave of Lafitte.--Hospitality of the Padres.--Departure from
Silan.--Temax.--Church and Convent.--Izamal.--Fiesta of Santa
Cruz.--Appearance of the City.--Mounds.--Colossal Ornaments in
Stucco.--Gigantic Head.--Stupendous Mound.--Interior Chambers.--Church
and Convent.--Built on an ancient Mound.--A Legend.--A Ball.
At daylight the next morning we crawled out from the bottom of the
canoa, and found her anchored off the port of Silan, which consisted of
a few huts built around a sandy square on a low, barren coast. We gave
portions of our tattered garments to the waves, and waded ashore. It
was three weeks since we had embarked; our coast voyage had been more
interesting than we expected, but there was no part of it so agreeable
as the end; we were but too happy to get rid of the discomfort and
confinement of the canoa. The patron went to find lodgings for us, and
I followed with one of the boatmen, carrying a load. A man just opening
the door of a sort of warehouse called to me, and offered it for our
accommodation, which, on looking within, I did not hesitate to accept.
This man had never heard of us nor we of him, and, probably, neither
will ever hear of the other again. It was another instance of the
universally kind treatment we met with in all parts of the country.
Silan is the port of Izamal, which is eleven leagues distant.
According to our arrangement, Dimas was to meet us here with the
horses, but he had not arrived or been heard of. We learned, however,
that there was no green food to be procured at this place, which Dimas
had probably learned at the village, three leagues distant, and had
therefore remained at that place; yet we had some uneasiness, as he had
to make a journey of two hundred and fifty miles, and our first
business was to despatch Albino for information. Next we had a great
enterprise in procuring breakfast, and after this in providing for
dinner, which we determined should be the best the country afforded, to
consist of fish and fowl, each of which had to be bought separately,
and, with separate portions of lard, sent to different houses to be
cooked.
During the interval of preparation I took a walk along the shore.
Toward the end of a sandy beach was a projecting point, on a line with
which I noticed on the water what seemed to be a red cloud of singular
brilliancy, and, at the same time, delicacy of colour, which, on
drawing nearer, I found to be a flat covered with flamingoes. On my
return I reported the discovery to Doctor Cabot, when our host gave us
such a glowing account of flamingoes, scarlet ibises, and roseate
spoonbills at Punta Arenas, about two leagues distant, that my
imagination was excited by the idea of such clouds of beautiful
plumage. Doctor Cabot was anxious for closer acquaintance with the
birds, and we determined, in case our horses arrived, to go thither
that same afternoon, and, after a few hours' shooting, overtake Mr.
Catherwood the next day at Izamal. In good time our horses arrived with
Dimas, in fine order; and as he had had some days' rest, we took him
and an Indian procured by our host, and at about four o'clock set out.
For the first league our road lay directly along the shore, but farther
on there were projecting points, to cut off which a footpath led among
mangrove trees, with shoots growing from the branches into the ground,
forming what seemed a naked and impenetrable canebrake, surmounted by
thick green foliage. In many places it was difficult to advance on
horseback; from time to time we came out upon a broken, stony shore,
and, considering that we had set out merely for a short ride, we found
ourselves travelling on one of the wildest roads we had met with in the
country. At dusk we reached a hut in a beautifully picturesque
position, imbosomed in a small bay, with a frail bridge, about two feet
wide, running out some distance from the shore, and a canoa floating at
the end. The hut consisted of two parts, connected by a thatched
arbour, empty, and apparently begging for a tenant. A string of fish
hung on one of the beams, and on the ground were a few smothered coals.
We swung our hammocks, kindled a fire, and when the occupant arrived
had a cup of chocolate ready for him, and endeavoured to make him feel
himself at home; but this was no easy matter. He was a lad of about
sixteen, the son of the proprietor, who had gone away that day, the
fishing season being nearly over. He certainly was not expecting us,
and was taken somewhat by surprise; he had never seen a foreigner in
his life, and was by no means reassured when we told him that we had
come to shoot flamingoes and spoonbills. Our Indian gave him some
indistinct notion of our object, of which, however, he must have had a
very imperfect notion himself; and seeming to intimate that we were
beyond his comprehension, or, at all events, entirely too many for him,
the boy withdrew to the other division of the hut, and left us in full
possession. Instead of a rough night we were well provided for, but,
unfortunately, there was no ramon or water for the horses. We made an
affecting appeal to our young host, and he spared us part of a small
stock of maize, which he had on hand for the making of his own
tortillas, but they had to go without water, as none could be procured
at night.
In the gray of the morning we heard a loud quacking of ducks, which
almost lifted us out of our hammocks, and carried us out of doors.
Beyond the point of the little dock was a long sand-bank, covered with
immense flocks of these birds. Our host could not go with us till he
had examined his fishing nets, and Dimas had to take the horses to
water, but we pushed off with our Indian to set the canoe. Very soon we
found that he was not familiar with the place, or with the management
of a canoe, and, what was worse, we could not understand a word he
said. Below us the shore formed a large bay, with the Punta de Arenas,
or Point of Sand, projecting toward us, bordered down to the water's
edge with trees, and all over the bay were sand-banks, barely appearing
above water, and covered with wild fowl of every description known, in
numbers almost exceeding the powers of conception. In recurring to them
afterward, Doctor Cabot enumerated of ducks, the mallard, pin-tail,
blooming teal, widgeon, and gadwall; of bitterns, the American bittern,
least bittern, great and lesser egret, blue crane, great blue heron,
Louisiana heron, night heron, two kinds of rail, one clapper rail,
white ibis, willets, snipes, red-breasted snipe, least snipe,
semi-palmated sandpiper, black-breasted plover, marble godwit,
long-billed curlew, osprey or fish-hawk, black hawk, and other smaller
birds, of which we took no note, and all together, with their brilliant
plumage and varied notes, forming, as we passed among them, an animated
and exciting scene, but it was no field for sporting. It would have
been slaughter to shoot among them. In an hour we could have loaded our
canoe with birds, of which one or two brace would be considered a fair
morning's work. But we did not know what to do with them, and, besides,
these were not what we were looking for. A single flock of flamingoes
flew by us, but out of reach, and at the moment we were stuck in the
mud. Our Indian made horrible work in setting us, and continued to hit
every flat till we reached the head of the bay, and entered a branch
like a creek. Unable to hold discourse with him, and supposing that he
was setting right, we continued to move slowly up the stream, until we
found that we were getting beyond the region of birds; but the scene
was so quiet and peaceful that we were loth to return; and still on
each bank the snowy plumage of the white ibis appeared among the green
of the trees, and the heron stood like a statue in the water, turning
his long neck almost imperceptibly, and looking at us. But we had no
time for quiet enjoyment, and turned back. Near the mouth of the creek
a flock of roseate spoonbills flew over our heads, also out of reach,
but we saw where they alighted, and setting toward them till we were
stopped by a mud-bank, we took to the water, or rather to the mud, in
which we found our lower members moving suddenly downward to parts
unknown, and in some danger of descending till our sombreros only
remained as monuments of our muddy grave. Extricating ourselves, moving
in another direction, and again sinking and drawing back, for two hours
we toiled, struggled, floundered, and fired, a laughing stock to the
beautiful spoonbills in the free element above. At length Dr. Cabot
brought one down, and we parted. In following our separate fortunes
along the shore I shot one, which fell at the other side of a stream.
As I rushed in, the water rose above all my mud stains, and I fell
back, and hastily disencumbered myself of clothing. A high wind was
sweeping over the bay; having no stone at hand with which to secure
them, my hat and light garments were blown into the water, and at the
same moment the roseate bird stood up, opened its large wings, and
fluttered along the beach. Distracted between the bird and the fugitive
clothing, I let the latter go, and gave chase to the bird, after
securing which, and holding it kicking under my arm, I pursued my
habiliments, now some distance apart, into the water, and at length got
back to dry land with my miscellaneous load, and stood on the beach a
picture of an antiquary in distress, doubtless illustrating the proverb
to the Indian, who now came to my relief, if he had ever met with it in
the course of his reading, that no man can be a hero to his valet de
chambre. In honour of the event I determined to make an essay in
dissection, and to carry the bird home with me as a memorial of this
place.
By this time Doctor Cabot joined me, and it was necessary to return. We
had procured but one bird each, and had been disappointed of the grand
spectacle of clouds of beautiful plumage, but the account of our host
was no doubt true to the letter, for the season was late, and the
brilliant birds we were seeking had wended their way north; but even of
these, with the knowledge we had acquired of localities, two canoes,
and good setters, in another day we could have procured any number we
wanted. For mere sporting, such a ground is not often seen, and the
idea of a shooting lodge, or rather hut, on the shores of Punta de
Arenas for a few months in the season, with a party large enough to
consume the game, presented itself almost as attractively as that of
exploring ruined cities. On our return, each of us made a single shot,
from which we picked up between thirty and forty birds, leaving others
crippled and hopping on the beach. We got back to the hut; and tumbled
them all into a dry pot (the feathers being, of course, taken off), and
sat down ourselves to the business of dissection. With a finishing
touch from Doctor Cabot, I prepared a miserable specimen of a beautiful
bird, looking upon it, nevertheless, with great satisfaction as the
memorial of a remarkable place and an interesting adventure. In the
mean time, the birds on the fire were getting on swimmingly, in a
literal sense, giving decided evidence touching the richness of their
feeding-grounds. We had only tortillas as an accompaniment, but neither
we nor the birds had any reason to complain.
At four o'clock we took leave of our young host, and at dark reached
the port, and rode across the sandy plaza. The door which had opened to
us with so much alacrity was now shut, but not by the hand of
inhospitality. Mr. Catherwood and the owner had left for the village,
and the house was locked up. Some of the villagers, however, came to
us, and conducted us to the quartel, which was garrisoned by two women,
who surrendered at discretion, provided us with chocolate, and,
although the hut was abundantly large for all of us, unexpectedly bade
us good-night, and withdrew to a neighbour's to sleep. If they had
remained, not being worn down by fatigue as we were, and, consequently,
more wakeful, a sad catastrophe might have been prevented. We laid our
birds carefully on a table to dry; during the night a cat entered, and
we were awaked to see the fruits of our hard day's labour dragged along
the floor, and the cat bounding from them, and escaping through a hole
in the side of the hut. It was no consolation to us, but if she had
nine lives, the arsenic used for preserving the birds had probably
taken them all.
[Engraving 68: Immense Mound]
Before daylight the next morning we were again in the saddle. For some
distance back from the port the ground had been washed or overflowed by
the sea, and was a sandy, barren mangrove brake. Beyond commenced the
same broken, stony surface, and before we had proceeded far we
discovered that Doctor Cabot's horse was lame. Not to lose time, I rode
on to procure another, and at eight o'clock reached the village of
Silan. In the suburbs I discovered unexpectedly the towering memorial
of another ruined city, and riding into the plaza, saw at one angle,
near the wall of the church, the gigantic mound represented in the
plate opposite, the grandest we had seen in the country. Much as we had
seen of ruins, the unexpected sight of this added immensely to the
interest of our long journeying among the remains of aboriginal
grandeur. Leaving my horse at the casa real, and directing the alcalde
to see about getting one for Doctor Cabot, I walked over to the mound.
At the base, and inside of the wall of the church, were five large
orange trees, loaded with fruit. A group of Indians were engaged in
getting stone out of the mound to repair the wall, and a young man was
superintending them, whom I immediately recognised as the padre. He
accompanied me to the top of the mound; it was one of the largest we
had seen, being about fifty feet high and four hundred feet long. There
was no building or structure of any kind visible; whatever had been
upon it had fallen or been pulled down. The church, the wall of the
yard, and the few stone houses in the village, had been built of
materials taken from it.
In walking along the top we reached a hole, at the bottom of which I
discovered the broken arch of a ceiling, and looked through it into an
apartment below. This explained the character of the structure. A
building had extended the whole length of the mound, the upper part of
which had fallen, and the ruins had made the whole a long, confused,
and undistinguishable mass. The top commanded an extensive view of a
great wooded plain, and near by, rising above the trees, was another
mound, which, within a few years, had been crowned with an edifice,
called, as at Chichen and Tuloom, El Castillo. The padre, a young man,
but little over thirty, remembered when this Castillo stood with its
doorways open, pillars in them, and corridors around. The sight of
these ruins was entirely unexpected; if they had been all we had met
with in the country, we should have gazed upon them with perplexity and
wonder; and they possessed unusual interest from the fact that they
existed in a place, the name of which was known and familiar to us as
that of an existing aboriginal town at the time of the conquest.
In tracing the disorderly flight of the Spaniards from Chichen Itza, we
find them first at Silan, which is described by Herrera as being "Then
a fine Town, the Lord whereof was a Youth of the Race of the Cheles,
then a Christian, and great Friend to Captain Francis de Montejo, who
received and entertained them. Tirrok was near Silan; that and the
other Towns along the Coast were subject to the Cheles, who, having
been no way disobliged by the Spaniards did not disturb them, and so
they continued some Months, when, seeing no Possibility of being
supplied with Men and other Things they wanted, they resolved quite to
abandon that Country. In order to it, they were to march to Campeachy,
forty Leagues from Silan, which was looked upon as very dangerous,
because the Country was very populous; but the Lord of Silan and others
bearing them Company, they arrived in Safety, and the Cheles returned
to their own Homes." Cogolludo, too, traces the routed Spaniards to
Silan, but thence, with more probability, he carries them by sea to
Campeachy; for, as he well suggests, the lords of Silan would not have
been able to give them safe escort through forty leagues of territory
inhabited by different tribes, all hostile to the Spaniards, and some
of them hostile to the Cheles themselves. This difference, however, is
unimportant; both accounts prove that there was a large town of
aboriginal inhabitants in this vicinity, and, as at Ticul and Nohcacab,
we must either suppose that these great mounds are the remains of the
aboriginal town, or we must believe that another town of the same name
existed in this immediate neighbourhood, of which no trace whatever now
remains.
The reader may remember that we left the port before daylight. As I
stood on the top of the mound, all that I needed to fill up the measure
of my satisfaction was the certainty of a breakfast The padre seemed to
divine my thoughts; he relieved me from all uneasiness, and enabled me
to contemplate with a tranquil mind the sublimity of these remains of a
fallen people. When Doctor Cabot arrived he found a table that
surprised him.
Silan was known to us as the scene of a modern and minor event. Our
ambiguous friend on the island of Mugeres had told us that at this
place Lafitte died and was buried, and I inquired for his grave. The
padre was not in the village at the time, and did not know whether he
was buried in the campo santo or the church, but supposed that, as
Lafitte was a distinguished man, it was in the latter. We went thither,
and examined the graves in the floor, and the padre drew out from amid
some rubbish a cross, with a name on it, which he supposed to be that
of Lafitte, but it was not. The sexton who officiated at the burial was
dead; the padre sent for several of the inhabitants, but a cloud hung
over the memory of the pirate: all knew of his death and burial, but
none knew or cared to tell where he was laid. We had heard, also, that
his widow was living in the place, but this was not true. There was,
however, a negress who had been a servant to the latter, and who, we
were told, spoke English; the cura sent for her, but she was so
intoxicated that she could not make her appearance.
The last of the padre's good offices was procuring a horse for Doctor
Cabot, which the alcalde had not been able to do. It was the last time
we were thrown upon the hospitality of a padre, and in taking leave of
him, I do repent me that in my confidential intercourse with the reader
I have at times let fall what I might better have kept to myself.
At ten o'clock we set out, and at half past twelve reached Temax, two
and a half leagues distant. It had a fine plaza, with a great church
and convent, and a stone casa real, with a broad corridor in front,
under which the guarda were swinging in hammocks.
We were but six leagues from Izamal, at which place, we learned, a
fiesta was then going on, and there was to be a ball in the evening;
but we could neither push our horses through, nor procure a calesa,
though the road was good for wheel carriages.
Early in the evening we took to our hammocks, but had hardly lain down,
when one of the guarda came to inform us that a caricoche had just
arrived from Izamal, and wanted a return freight. We had it brought
down to the casa real, and at two o'clock, by a bright moonlight, we
started, leaving Dimas to follow with the horses. The caricoche was
drawn by three mules, and had in it a bed, on which we reclined at full
length.
At nine o'clock we entered the suburbs of Izamal, but fifteen leagues
from Merida. The streets had lamps, and were designated by visible
objects, as at Merida. Peeping through the curtain, we rode into the
plaza, which was alive with people, dressed in clean clothes for the
fiesta. There was an unusual proportion of gentlemen with black hats
and canes, and some with military coats, bright and flashing to such a
degree that we congratulated ourselves upon not having made our entry
on horseback. We had on our shooting-clothes, with the mud stains from
Punta Arenas, and by computation our beards were of twenty-eight days'
growth. In the centre of the plaza our driver stopped for instructions.
We directed him to the casa real, and as we were moving on, our English
saddles, strapped on behind, caught the eye of Albino, who conducted us
to the house in which Mr. Catherwood was already domiciled. This house
was a short distance from the plaza, built of stone, and about sixty
feet front, divided into two large salas, with rooms adjoining, a broad
corridor behind, and a large yard for horses, for all which the rent
was three reales per day, being, as we were advised, but two more than
anybody else would have been obliged to pay. In a few moments we had
done all that our scanty wardrobe would allow, and were again in the
street.
It was the last day of the fiesta of Santa Cruz. By the grace of a
beneficent government, the village of Izamal had been erected into a
city, and the jubilee on account of this accession of political dignity
was added to the festival of the holy cross. The bull-fights were over,
but the bull-ring, fancifully ornamented, still remained in the centre
of the plaza, and two bulls stood under one of the corridors, pierced
with wounds and streaming with blood, as memorials of the fight. Amid a
crowd of Indians were parties of vecinos, or white people, gay and well
dressed in the style and costume of the capital, and under the corridor
of a corner house, with an arbour projecting into the plaza, music was
sounding to summon the people to a ball. From desolation and solitude
we had come into the midst of gayeties, festivities, and rejoicings.
But amid this gay scene the eye turned involuntarily to immense mounds
rising grandly above the tops of the houses, from which the whole city
had been built, without seeming to diminish their colossal proportions,
proclaiming the power of those who reared them, and destined,
apparently, to stand, when the feebler structures of their more
civilized conquerors shall have crumbled into dust.
[Engraving 69: Gigantic Head]
One of these great mounds, having at that time benches upon it,
commanding a view of the bullfight in the plaza, blocked up the yard of
the house we occupied, and extended into the adjoining yard of the
Senora Mendez, who was the owner of both. It is, perhaps, two hundred
feet long and thirty high. The part in our yard was entirely ruined,
but in that of the senora it appeared that its vast sides had been
covered from one end to the other with colossal ornaments in stucco,
most of which had fallen, but among the fragments is the gigantic head
represented in the plate opposite. It is seven feet eight inches in
height and seven feet in width. The ground-work is of projecting
stones, which are covered with stucco. A stone one foot six inches long
protrudes from the chin, intended, perhaps, for burning copal on, as a
sort of altar. It was the first time we had seen an ornament of this
kind upon the exterior of any of these structures. In sternness and
harshness of expression it reminded us of the idols at Copan, and its
colossal proportions, with the corresponding dimensions of the mound,
gave an unusual impression of grandeur.
Two or three streets distant from the plaza, but visible in all its
huge proportions, was the most stupendous mound we had seen in the
country, being, perhaps, six or seven hundred feet long and sixty feet
high, which, we ascertained beyond all doubt, had interior chambers.
Turning from these memorials of former power to the degraded race that
now lingers round them, the stranger might run wild with speculation
and conjecture, but on the north side of the plaza is a monument that
recalls his roving thoughts, and holds up to his gaze a leaf in
history. It is the great church and convent of Franciscan monks,
standing on an elevation, and giving a character to the plaza that no
other in Yucatan possesses. Two flights of stone steps lead up to it,
and the area upon which they open is probably two hundred feet square;
on three sides is a colonnade, forming a noble promenade, overlooking
the city and the surrounding country to a great distance. This great
elevation was evidently artificial, and not the work of the Spaniards.
At the earliest period of the conquest we have accounts of the large
aboriginal town of Izamal, and, fortunately, in the pious care of the
early monks to record the erection of their church and convent, the
only memorials which, to the exclusive and absorbing spirit of the
times, seemed worth preserving, we have authentic records which
incidentally dispel all uncertainty respecting the origin of these
ancient mounds.
According to the account of the padre Lizana, in the year 1553, at the
second chapter held in the province, the padre Fr. Diego de Landa was
elected guardian of the convent of Izamal, and charged to erect the
building, the monks having lived until that time in houses of straw. He
selected as the place for the foundation one of the cerros, or mounds,
which then existed, "made by hand," and called by the natives
Phapphol-chac, which, says the padre Lizana, "signifies the habitation
or residence of the priests of the gods; this place was selected in
order that the devil might be driven away by the divine presence of
Christ sacrificed, and that the place in which the priests of the idol
lived, and which had been the place of abomination and idolatry, might
become that of sanctification, where the ministers of the true God
should offer sacrifices and adoration due to his Divine Majesty."
This is clear and unmistakeable testimony as to the original use and
occupation of the mound on which the church and convent of Izamal now
stand; and the same account goes on farther, and says: "At another
mound, on which was the idol called Kinick Kakmo, he founded a village
or settlement, calling it San Ildefonzo, and to the other cerro, called
Humpictok, where falls the village of Izamal, he gave for patron San
Antonio de Padua, demolishing the temple which was there; and where was
the idol called Haboc he founded a village called Santa Maria, by which
means he sought to sweep away the memory of so great idolatry."
It is unnecessary to comment upon these accounts. Testimony, never
intended for that purpose, proves, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that
these great mounds had upon them temples and idols, and the habitations
of priests, in the actual use of the Indians who were found occupying
the country at the time of the conquest; and, in my opinion, if it
stood alone, unsupported by any other, it is sufficient to dispel every
cloud of mystery that hangs over the ruins of Yucatan.
At the present day Izamal is distinguished throughout Yucatan for its
fair, but it has a stronger hold upon the feelings of the Indians in
the sanctity of its Virgin. From the history of the proceedings of the
monks, it appears that the Indians continued to worship El Demonio, and
the venerable padre Landa, after severe wrestling with the great enemy,
proposed to procure an image of the holy Virgin, offering to go for it
himself to Guatimala, in which city there was a skilful sculptor. At
the same time, another was wanted for the convent at Merida. The two
images were brought in a box, and though there was much rain on the
way, it never fell on the box, or on the Indians who carried it, or
within some steps of them. At Merida the monks selected for their
convent the one which had the most beautiful countenance and seemed
most devout; the other, though brought by the Indians of Izamal, and
intended for that place, the Spaniards of Valladolid claimed, and said
that it ought not to remain in a village of Indians. The Indians of
Izamal resisted, the Spaniards attempted to carry their purpose into
execution, and when in the suburbs of the village, the image became so
heavy that the bearers could not carry it. Divine Majesty interposed on
behalf of the Indians of Izamal, and there was not sufficient human
force to remove the statue. The devotion of the faithful increased at
the sight of these marvels, and in all parts, by land and sea, by means
of invocation to this Virgin, innumerable miracles have been wrought,
of which, says Cogolludo, a volume might have been written, if proper
care had been taken.
But, alas! though this Virgin could save others, herself she could not
save. On the left of the door of the church is a square stone set in
the wall, with an inscription, which tells the mournful tale, that in
the great burning of the church the Santa Virgen was entirely consumed;
but the hearts of the faithful are cheered by the assurance that one as
good as she has been put in her place.
After our visit to the church we returned to the corridor overlooking
the plaza. A young girl whom I had noticed all day sitting in one of
the corridors was still there, looking down upon the gay scene in the
plaza, but apparently abstracted, pensive, perhaps looking in vain for
one who did not appear.
In the evening we went to the ball, which was held in, or rather out
of, a house on the corner of the plaza. The sala was opened as a
refreshment room. In the corridor was a row of seats for those who did
not take part in the dance, and in front was an arbour projecting into
the plaza, with a cemented floor for the dancers. The ball had begun at
eight o'clock the evening before, and, with an intermission of a few
hours toward daylight, had been continued ever since; but it was
manifest that there were limits to the capabilities of human nature
even in dancing. The room was already less crowded than it had been
during the day. Two officers of the army (militia), who had been
toiling all day with a determination that promised well for Yucatan
under the threatened invasion of Mexico, had danced off their military
coats, but still kept the floor in light jackets. One placed a chair
for his drooping partner during the intervals of the dance. Another
followed his example, and by degrees every lady had her seat of relief.
At the last call only four couples appeared on the floor. Ladies,
fiddlers, and lights were all wearing out together, and we went away.
Before we were in our hammocks a loud burst of music, as it were a last
effort of expiring nature, broke up the ball.