The ancient inn, the Hotel Morelos, where we put up, was built by the Spaniards more than two centuries ago. When we arrived we rode all our six mules and horses right through the big doorway into the interior paved court. Here we turned to the left and stopped at a flight of stone stairs, which went up to the second floor. All our baggage was carried up. A large square room was assigned to us. The walls and floor were of stone. Three narrow iron bedsteads were brought in, each having good woven wire springs, a thin mattress, a sheet, a blanket and a small pillow. Our baggage which the two pack mules had carried was piled in a corner. A table and three commodes, one next each bed, a basin and pitcher of enameled iron, and four chairs completed the furniture, all brought in after our arrival. Big double doors opened on the inner, tile-floored piazza, overlooking the _patio_, and casemented windows opened on the little balcony overlooking the street. On our left was another similar chamber, then round the corner, a dining room, then the kitchen, then another large room, the water-closet, with a dozen seats all in a row, used freely by both sexes and no lock to the door! A whole company might use it simultaneously. These places, in Mexico, are always close to the kitchen. I then understood the reason for constant yellow fever in less lofty altitudes.
In the town is a very old and large church with two towers and a great clock. Many women were kneeling along the dusty floor, saying their vespers, when we entered.
An artistic fountain (whose waters are said to be “Holy”) carved with lions’ heads, plays in the center of the _plaza_. From the _plaza_ one can look over the lower town and far to the southwest, over and into _La Tierra Caliente_ (the hot country) in which we now are. But Ario was cool, and at night I slept in flannel pajamas under two blankets.
We were early astir! and enjoyed an excellent breakfast of coffee, eggs, chicken, rice, _tortillas_--in fact, I may remark that all meals I have thus far eaten off the beaten track of travel in Mexico, are quite as good as any I would get in the mountains of West Virginia. We had the two pack animals loaded, paid our bill, about forty cents each, (one dollar Mexican), mounted into our saddles and filed out of the _patio_ into the street by seven-twenty o’clock. There we found _El Jefe Politico_ superbly mounted, astride an elegant saddle with red trappings and tassels. He was accompanied by six cavalrymen on handsome black chargers, in white and blue uniforms, and a company of foot soldiers in white uniforms. With them was the prisoner, a tall dark man, his left hand in a sling and his right hand tied behind to the small of his back. All were lined up awaiting us, to be our escort till late in the day. So we left Ario with dignity and pomp. Whether the prisoner would reach the day’s end was an open question.