The magnificence that greeted us seemed a vision--a glorious and dazzling hallucination--more like the gilded brilliance of some enchanted palace than the interior of a Mexican gentleman's habitation.
As we stood gazing with irresistible wonderment, Don Cosme opened a side-door, and called aloud, "_Ninas, ninas, ven aca_!" (Children, come hither!) Presently we heard several female voices, blending together like a medley of singing birds.
They approached.

We heard the rustling of silken dresses, the falling of light feet in the doorway, and three ladies entered--the senora of Don Cosme, followed by her two beautiful daughters, the heroines of our aquatic adventure.
These hesitated a moment, scanning our faces; then, with a cry of "_Nuestro Salvador_!" both rushed forward, and knelt, or rather crouched, at my feet, each of them clasping one of my hands and covering it with kisses.
Their panting agitation, their flashing eyes, the silken touch of their delicate fingers, sent the blood rushing through my veins like a stream of lava; but in their gentle accents, the simple ingenuousness of their expressions, the childlike innocence of their faces, I regarded them only as two beautiful children kneeling in the _abandon_ of gratitude.
Meanwhile Don Cosme had introduced Clayley and the major to his senora, whose baptismal name was Joaquina; and taking the young ladies one in each hand, he presented them as his daughters, Guadalupe and Maria de la Luz (Mary of the Light).
"Mama," said Don Cosme, "the gentlemen had not quite finished their cigars." "Oh! they can smoke here," replied the senora.
"Will the ladies not object to that ?" I inquired.
"No--no--no!" ejaculated they simultaneously.
"Perhaps you will join us ?--we have heard that such is the custom of your country." "It _was_ the custom," said Don Cosme.

"At present the young ladies of Mexico are rather ashamed of the habit." "We no smoke--Mamma, yes," added the elder--the brunette--whose name was Guadalupe.
"Ha! you speak English ?" "Little Englis speak--no good Englis," was the reply.
"Who taught you English ?" I inquired, prompted by a mysterious curiosity.
"Un American us teach--Don Emilio." "Ha! an American ?" "Yes, Senor," said Don Cosme: "a gentleman from Vera Cruz, who formerly visited our family." I thought I could perceive a desire upon the part of our host not to speak further on this subject, and yet I felt a sudden, and, strange to say, a painful curiosity to know more about Don Emilio, the American, and his connection with our newly-made acquaintance.

I can only explain this by asking the reader if he or she has not experienced a similar feeling while endeavouring to trace the unknown past of some being in whom either has lately taken an interest--an interest stronger than friendship?
That mamma smoked was clear, for the old lady had already gone through the process of unrolling one of the small cartouche-like cigars.

Having re-rolled it between her fingers, she placed it within the gripe of a pair of small golden pincers.
This done, she held one end to the coals that lay upon the _brazero_, and ignited the paper.