The next morning by daybreak we set off to continue our journey.  It was very pleasant travelling.  Sometimes Jerry and I rode together, sometimes with the doctor or Mr Renshaw, and at others with our two English friends, from whom we gained a good deal of information.  From all I heard, I should not at all like to live in Mexico.  The descendants of the fierce conquerors have become a most degenerate race, without religion, without morality--each man ready to destroy his neighbour for the sake of getting into his place.  That object seems to be the only end and aim of all their politics.  As to patriotism, it does not exist.  The nearest approach to the sentiment is made by those who wish for a settled government, that they may enjoy their property in peace and quiet.  The consequences of the constant change of government are, that brigands abound, that the confines of the country are left open to the depredations of the Red Indians, and that the army of the state is left in a dreadfully disorganised condition--ill paid, ill fed, ill clothed, and utterly unable to cope with the evils which beset them. We stopped for a few hours at a ruined house to take our mid-day meal, and then continued our journey.  Soon after this we came to some blackened walls which showed where a village once stood.  We learned from the rancheroes that only a few weeks before there existed on the spot a pretty hamlet, with a contented and happy population of some fifty persons or so.  One morning, just as they were setting forth to their work, the dreaded war whoop of the Indians was heard.  Two or three hundred Red Indian warriors, armed with spears, rifles, and round shields, were seen galloping towards the devoted village.  Some of the people fled.  All tried to flee, for so completely unprepared were they that there was no time to make any defence.  The women and children, as they were overtaken, were indiscriminately slaughtered.  The plunder that was considered worth carrying off was collected, and then in wantonness the village was set on fire.  A few of the fugitives had at length reached Durango with the tale of their misfortunes.  Some troops had been sent out with orders to exterminate the savages, but they took very good care not to come near them, while the Indians indeed were probably making a foray some two or three hundred miles away.  At night we reached a rancho, the owner of which was known to our friends.  He received us hospitably, slung hammocks for us in one of the corridors of the house, and gave us the usual tortillas, and eggs, and beans for a feast, in addition to some very fine beef.  The evening of the next day was approaching, when, as we were descending a hill, we saw in the plain below us a number of horsemen galloping about.  We were too far off to make out what they were.  The rancheroes gazed earnestly at them.  Mr Renshaw had a good glass with him.