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were altars, they must have been very inconvenient ones, as they are about five feet high, and very little of the upper surface is level. We did not visit the other portions of the cemetery as shown on the plan, because we did not at the time know of their existence, our guide being still under the malign influence of the bottle.

We boiled our turtle's eggs (these, by the way, no boiling ever hardens), drank coffee and limonade, and ate sardines among these Maya relics, and then departed, after an interesting visit of only three hours. The heat and the swarms of insects by day gave us no encouragement to pass the night there, though we could not leave without a hope that we might return, and perhaps dig about the stones. Although visitors do not often get to these monuments, some have left the proofs of their low sense of propriety in inscriptions scratched on the stone. Truly the Indios who wander through this cemetery and call the figures idolos are more civilized than those fellows who have desecrated the stones by their otherwise unimportant names.

Our way out was a return for two miles, and then branched into another path, where the marks of the railway surveyors were plainly visible, and it seems that the Ferro-carril del Norte will come close to the Ruinas of Quirigua. As we left the lowlands we came upon ledges of sandstone perhaps a mile from the Ruinas, of the same kind used for the monoliths; but we could not find, perhaps owing to the dense vegetation, any signs of quarry work. In the path we saw fragments of pottery apparently ancient; and there are no modern habitations near at hand. As the path wound up the hill we crossed a sandstone ridge and had fine views over the valley of

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the Motagua. It was pleasant to get among the pines again, and on solid dry ground: I think I dread mud more than any other impediment in the road. When we struck the "camino real" late in the afternoon, Santiago went to the little village of Quirigua to get the traps he had left there, while Frank and I went on to the hacienda of Señor Rascon, late Jefe of Izabal, whom we had met in the office of Secretario Sanchez in the City of Guatemala. This hacienda was a mud-house with poor accommodations and little food; but as it cost us only two reals, we had no reason to grumble. The old señora in charge had only one egg; but overcome by Frank's plaintive appeal, she scrambled under the bed where the hens were roosting, and managed to coax another from one of them. We were here entertained by the process of branding cattle, -not an attractive exhibition of brute force and brute suffering.

We were in the saddle at seven, expecting a hard day's journey. The road was bad enough, muddy even when steep. In places it was paved; but this was worse still. The flowers were interesting, and the splendid butterflies were flitting all the way. A fine passionflower which Frank gathered for me, and a cypress-vine (Ipomaa), were among the old friends in a new place. Several trains of pack-mules on their way to Guatemala City passed us, and we had to use care to avoid being bruised by their loads, which they did not hesitate to push into us if not driven aside. As Mabel had cast a shoe, Frank walked almost all the way, using the mare occasionally as a bridge when the stream to be forded was wide. As we came out on the northern slope of El Mico we had an attractive view of the Lago de Izabal, and later

of the town itself, where we arrived early in the afternoon, finding quarters in the posada of Señora Juana, an ancient mulattress. Her house, at the extreme east end of the town, was large and ruinous; but we had a comfortable and cool room and a very decent comida. In the garden the señora had roses, gardenias, caladiums, hibiscus, and the Mexican vine (Antigonon leptopus). The town, with its white houses, low level, and ditched streets, reminded us of Belize; but while the capital of British Honduras is alive, Izabal is dead. On the hill westward was a fort, with lighthouse and town-bell. At 5 and 6 A.M., and at 6, 8, and 9 P.M., the fort made a noise. The wharf at the custom-house was long, but had only two feet of water, so shallow is the lake at this side. The shore was sandy, and the water clear. The principal streets are lighted by gaz (kerosene); and as the ditches on either side are worse than the gutters in New Orleans, this is a necessary precaution.

In the photograph of Izabal, taken from the end of the dilapidated wharf, the fort is seen on the hill above the large warehouse; at the right is the cluster of buildings belonging to Mr. Potts, - a gentleman who has a fine collection of native orchids in his garden, the only one in all the republic who seemed to take much interest in horticulture. The church is just behind this dwelling, and on the hill at the extreme right of the view is the Campo Santo. In the foreground the corroded piles show well the action of wood-destroying animals in the tropical fresh waters.

We saw also in Izabal a very interesting collection of antiquities from the mines of Las Quebradas, on the Motagua. There were clay heads of curious workman

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