to rest, but at once proceeded to photograph the town. After almuerzo we climbed down to the Lago de Atitlan by a path about twelve hundred feet in perpendicular descent. It was a league and a half from town to shore. We were in another climate. Oranges, sugar-cane, avocados, limes, jocotes, and other fruits that cannot bear the cold of the town above us, flourished here. Walled on every side by vast cliffs, and overshadowed by high volcanoes, there were yet fertile valleys opening on the Lago here and there. Streams of considerable volume pour into it over rocky beds, or dash foaming down the high cliffs. Ten miles across was the ancient town of Atitlan, famed in legend and history. We stood in one of those mysterious places seemingly below the rest of the world, for we could see the water fall into this valley; but no human eye sees the outlet, nor are the waters, as in the valley of the Dead Sea, chiefly evaporated. The surface is evidently of nearly the same level at all seasons. In the opinion of some observers it is not improbable that this valley was an ancient crater, in the midst of which the volcano of Atitlan has risen,-much as Vesuvius has sprung from the ancient Somma; but the more probable origin of the lake is that the rising volcanoes dammed up a valley. In the lava are many cavities, and possibly through these the surplus waters flow, to reappear in the many copious springs of the southern shore. We were minded to try the truth of that strange assertion of Juarros that the waters are so cold that all who venture in have their limbs frost-bitten and swollen. The water was clear and sweet, and we waded out some distance before there was depth enough to swim. From the sandy bottom. rose abundant bubbles, - probably of carbonic acid, as

they had no smell. It was a most refreshing bath,- cool, but not so cold as the old historian reported. A new experience, as we stood drying on the shore, was a shave with pumice-stones, which abound here. A little care is needed to avoid taking the cuticle away with the hair; but these stone razors are admirable substitutes for Sheffield steel, and are always sharp. Water-fowl were abundant, and very tame. A good survey of this lake would be of great geological and antiquarian interest; and we will speak of its depth and formation in a later chapter.

We should much have liked to cross the lake to the ruins on the other side; but the sight of the only boats on the lake, as well as our limited time, deterred us. I have never before seen boats constructed on these lines; the handles on the stern seeming necessary to lift the large, clumsy craft out of the water.

Oh, the hot climb up that hill to Sololà! We started at half-past one, and did not get back until six; and were then so tired that, soon after comida, we fell asleep, in spite of the music and rockets within a few rods of our bedroom. The decencies of life are much neglected here, as elsewhere in Guatemala, and our only washing-place was the veranda-rail, over which we leaned while Santiago poured a calabash of water over us. Those who have

travelled in Central France will have some idea of the privies of Central America, where they exist in any form, - indeed, if it were not for the hungry dogs, who act as scavengers, the streets would be in a most disgusting condition.

All this day the mountains were clear; but on the morrow the clouds came down again. We called on the Jefe to say our adios, and found that neither he nor his secretary could tell us the names of the immense volcanoes before his very eyes every time he went out of his housedoor. However, he called in an old Indio, who pointed out the distant Fuego, Agua, and Pacaya, and the nearer Atitlan, San Pedro, and Santa Clara. All these volcanoes

have been duly baptized into the Church, to induce them to act as good citizens and christianos.

The Jefe had promised me his mule, and Frank was to have the horse of the alcalde, as his mare, Mabel, had a sore back from the breaking of the tenedora, or crupper, on the journey to Sololà. We secured for a dollar and twenty-five cents two mozos to take our luggage — much increased in weight by the cloths we had purchased in Quezaltenango as far as Antigua, and at noon we started. Frank's little mare was a character. She took the saddle all right; but when he tried to bridle her, she rose on her hind-legs and proposed a boxing-match. Frank very naturally declined, as he had no fists to match. hers; and as Santiago and the mozos had been sent ahead, we hardly knew what to do, until an old Spaniard kindly came to our aid and taught us a trick. He tied some rope around the creature's left ear, a proceeding to which she made not the slightest objection, and inserting a stout stick and twisting the rope so as to have a firm hold of the ear, I was able to keep her down while Frank put on the bridle. She was perfectly still as long as her ear was in limbo, and did not seem to suffer; but it was useless to try to hold her by mane force or by the nostrils. Every time she was bridled we had to go through the same process.

We first rode down a very steep grade, sixteen hundred feet, to Panajachel, - - a pleasing village a league and a half from Sololà. Here are cultivated fields on the borders of the lake far surpassing anything of the kind I saw elsewhere in the republic. They are completely irrigated by the water of many brooks, some of which make cascades by the wayside. Panajachel is the garden of

Sololà; with about twelve hundred inhabitants, it has, besides its agricultural advantages, various minerals and especially fine clays. Hot-springs come to the surface on the lake shore. The road was being repaired, and we had to travel slowly, - glad, however, of the excuse for loitering, as the views of the lake and valley were not to be lightly passed by and forgotten. Then came a long, slow climb of fourteen hundred feet to San Andres Semetabaj, -a town of seventeen hundred inhabitants, which showed us as its only attraction a ruined church with a remarkably fine dome; even Sir Christopher Wren never designed a finer. On this long climb we lingered to photograph the last view of the Lago de Atitlan and its volcanoes. The sun was in our faces, and shone over the silvery waters with the effect of moonlight. The three black giants once so terrible, now so solemnly grand kept back the surging sea of cloud from the Pacific that seemed struggling to climb their sides and reach the lake. Not a boat, not a human being, was visible as we looked our last on the beautiful lago and turned to a road quite unlike any we had travelled before.

And now every day brought a quite new experience, as not merely the flowers and vegetation, but the very physical aspect of the country changed; and, strangely enough, the night was the entr'acte. To-day we were crossing the immense wrinkles of the earth, while from Chichicastenango to Sololà we had travelled with them. As we went up and down, the light faded; and we still had three "wide rivers to cross," as well as many leagues to ride. As we passed the camps of the mozos de cargo the bright light of their fires dazzled us and made the road some way beyond seem much darker. We came at