thought of the morrow's duty lost its sweetness. He several times
remarked that it was a great pity to lose any of our precious morning
hours in saying mass, when there were ruins of such interest to be seen.
These complaints gained in force and frequency as evening approached,
until finally, as we sat at supper, he announced his decision to say
mass before daybreak; he would call me at five o'clock, we would go
directly to the church, we would be through service before six, would
take our morning's coffee immediately after, and then would have quite a
piece of the morning left for the ruins, before the coach should leave
for Oaxaca.

The plan was carried out in detail. At five we were called from our beds
by the anxious padre. Herman and I were the only members of the party
who were sufficiently devout to care to hear mass so early. With the
padre, we stumbled in the darkness up to the church, where we roused the
old woman who kept the key and the boy who rang the bell. The vestments
were produced, the padre hastily robed, and the bell rung; the padre was
evidently irritated at the absence of a congregation, as he showed by
the rapid and careless way in which he repeated the first part of the
service. When, however, at the _Credo_, he turned and saw that several
poor indians had quietly crept in, a change came over him; his tone
became fuller, his manner more dignified, and the service itself more
impressive and decorous. Still, we were through long before six, and
throwing off his vestments, which he left the boy to put away, the padre
seized me by the arm, and we hastened down the hill to our morning's
coffee. On the way we met a number of indians on their way to mass,
whom the padre sternly rebuked for their laziness and want of devotion.
Immediately after coffee, we were among the ruins.

The padre had kindly arranged for my presentation to his Grace,