Jalapa was not always the stagnant place it is now.  Its pleasant houses and gardens date from a period when it was a town of some importance.  In old times the only practicable road from Vera Cruz to Mexico passed this way; and Jalapa was the entrepot where the merchants had their warehouses, and from whence the trains of mules distributed the European merchandise from the coast to the different markets of the country.  By this arrangement, the carrying from the coast was done by a small number of muleteers, who were seasoned to the climate, while the great mass of traders and carriers were not obliged to descend from the healthy region.  This was of the more importance, because, though the pure Indians are not liable to the attacks of yellow fever, the disease is as deadly to the other inhabitants of the high lands as to Europeans; and even those of the mestizos who have the least admixture of white blood are subject to it.  Of late years, this system has been given up, and the carriers from the high lands go down to the coast to fetch their loads, and every year they leave some of their number in the church-yards of the City of the Dead; while many others, though they recover from the fever, never regain their former health and strength.  The high-road to Mexico now goes by Orizaba, so that the importance of Jalapa as a trading-place has almost ceased.

Our Mexican journey was now all but finished, and I left my companion here, and took the Diligence to Vera Cruz, to meet the West India Mail-packet.  Mr. Christy followed a day or two later, and went to the United States.  We dismissed our two servants, Martin and Antonio.  Martin invested his wages in a package of tobacco, which he proposed to carry home on his horse, travelling by night along unfrequented mountain-paths, where custom-house officers seldom penetrate.  We never heard any more of him; but no doubt he got safe home, for he was perfectly competent to take care of himself, and he probably made a very good thing of his journey.  It was quite with regret that we parted from him, for he was a most sensible, useful fellow, with a continual flow of high spirits, and no end of stories of his experiences in smuggling, and hunting wild cattle in the tierra caliente, in which two adventurous occupations most of his life had been passed.  In his dealings with us, he was honesty itself, notwithstanding his equivocal profession.

We offered Antonio a cheque on Mexico for his wages, as he was going back there, but he said he would rather have hard dollars.  We paid his fare to Mexico by the Diligence, and gave him his money, telling him at the same time, that he was a fool for his pains.  He started next morning; and we heard, a month or two later, that the coach was stopped the same afternoon in the plains of Perote, and Antonio was robbed not only of his money but even of his jacket and serape, and reached Mexico penniless and half-naked.  He was always a silly fellow, and his last exploit was worthy of him.