This stronghold for generations had been occupied by brigands, and it was the time-honoured custom of each chieftain of the band, when he retired on a hard-earned competence, to expiate any regrettable incidents in his career by building a church in the town dedicated to his patron saint and to the memory of those whose souls he had helped to Paradise.

This pious and picturesque, if somewhat mediaeval, custom has now come to an end, as I understand that the Mexican Government caused the stronghold to be stormed a good many years ago, and put its occupants, to the number of several hundreds, to the sword.
We were eight in the coach, which was drawn by as many mules--four merchants, two priests, myself and the lady who afterwards became my wife.

She was a blue-eyed and fair-haired American from New York.

Her name, I soon discovered, was Emma Becker, and her father, who was dead, had been a lawyer.

We made friends at once, and before we had jolted ten miles on our journey I learned her story.