told him I was coming, which surprised me still more, as I did not remember any friend of that name, but soon learned that this imposing cognomen meant my friend Mr. Patrick Walker, of Balize. This was the first notice of Mr. Walker and Captain Caddy I had received since Lieutenant Nicols brought to Guatimala the report that they had been speared by the Indians. They had reached Palenque by the Balize River and Lake of Peten, without any other difficulties than from the badness of the roads, had remained two weeks at the ruins, and left for the Laguna and Yucatan. This was most gratifying intelligence, first, as it assured me of their safety, and second, as I gathered from it that there would be no impediment to our visiting the ruins. The apprehension of being met at the end of our toilsome journey with a peremptory exclusion had constantly disturbed us more or less, and sometimes weighed upon us like lead. We had determined to make no reference to the ruins until we had an opportunity of ascertaining our ground, and up to that moment I did not know but that all our labour was bootless. To heighten my satisfaction, the prefect said that the place was perfectly quiet; it was in a retired nook, which revolutions and political convulsions never reached. He had held his office twenty years, acknowledging as many different governments.

I returned to make my report, and in regard to the old alcalde, in the language of a ward-meeting manifesto, determined to ask for nothing but what was right, and to submit to nothing that was wrong. In this spirit we made a bold stand for some corn. The alcalde's "no hay" was but too true; the corn-crop had failed, and there was an actual famine in the place. The Indians, with accustomed improvidence, had planted

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barely enough for the season, and this turning out bad, they were reduced to fruits, plantains, and roots instead of tortillas. Each white family had about enough for its own use, but none to spare. The shortness of the corn-crop made everything else scarce, as they were obliged to kill their fowls and pigs from want of anything to feed them with. The alcalde, who to his other offences added that of being rich, was the only man in the place who had any to spare, and he was holding on for a greater pressure. At Tumbala we had bought good corn at thirty ears for sixpence; here, with great difficulty, we prevailed upon the alcalde to spare us a little at eight ears for a shilling, and these were so musty and worm-eaten that the mules would hardly touch them. At first it surprised us that some enterprising capitalist did not import several dollars' worth from Tumbala; but on going deeper into the matter we found that the cost of transportation would not leave much profit, and, besides, the course of exchange was against Palenque. A few back-loads would overstock the market; for as each white family was provided till the next crop came in, the Indians were the only persons who wished to purchase, and they had no money to buy with. The brunt of the famine fell upon us, and particularly upon our poor mules. Fortunately, how ever, there was good pasture, and not far off. We slipped the bridles at the door and turned them loose in the streets; but after making the circuit they came back in a body, and poked their heads in at the door with an imploring look for corn.

Our prospects were not very brilliant; nevertheless, we had reached Palenque, and toward evening storms came on, with terrific thunder and lightning, which made us feel but too happy that our journey was over.

The house assigned to us by the alcalde was next his own, and belonged to himself. It had a cosina adjoining, and two Indian women, who did not dare look at us without permission from the alcalde. It had an earthen floor, three beds made of reeds, and a thatched roof, very good, except that over two of the beds it leaked. Under the peaked roof and across the top of the mud walls there was a floor made of poles, serving as a granary for the alcalde's mouldy corn, inhabited by industrious mice, which scratched, nibbled, squeaked, and sprinkled dust upon us all night. Nevertheless, we had reached Palenque, and slept well.

The next day was Sunday, and we hailed it as a day of rest. Heretofore, in all my travels, I had endeav oured to keep it as such, but in this country I had found it impossible. The place was so tranquil, and seemed in such a state of repose, that as the old alcalde passed the door we ventured to wish him a good-morning; but again he had got up wrong; and, without answering our greeting, stopped to tell us that our mules were missing, and, as this did not disturb us sufficiently, he added that they were probably stolen; but when he had got us fairly roused and on the point of setting off to look for them, he said there was no danger; they had only gone for water, and would return of themselves.

The village of Palenque, as we learned from the prefect, was once a place of considerable importance, all the goods imported for Guatimala passing through it; but Balize had diverted that trade and destroyed its commerce, and but a few years before more than half the population had been swept off by the cholera. Whole families had perished, and their houses were desolate and falling to ruins. The church stood at the

head of the street, in the centre of a grassy square. On each side of the square were houses with the forest di rectly upon them; and, being a little elevated in the plaza, we were or a line with the tops of the trees. The largest house on the square was deserted and in ruins. There were a dozen other houses occupied by white families, with whom, in the course of an hour's stroll, I became acquainted. It was but to stop before the door, and I received an invitation, "Pasen adelante," "Walk in, captain," for which title I was indebted to the eagle on my hat. Each family had its hacienda in the neighbourhood, and in the course of an hour I knew all that was going on in Palenque; i., e., I knew that nothing was going on.

At the upper end of the square, commanding this scene of quiet, was the house of an American named William Brown! It was a strange place for the abode of an American, and Mr. Brown was a regular "goahead" American. In the great lottery he had drawn a Palenquian wife, which in that quiet place probably saved him from dying of ennui. What first took him. to the country I do not know; but he had an exclusive privilege to navigate the Tobasco River by steam, and would have made a fortune, but his steamboat foundered on the second trip. He then took to cutting logwood on a new plan, and came very near making another fortune, but something went wrong. At the time of our visit he was engaged in canalling a short cut to the sea, to connect two rivers near his hacienda. To the astonishment of the Palenquians, he was always busy, when he might live quietly on his hacienda in the summer, and pass his winters in the village. Very much to our regret, he was not then in the village. It

would have been interesting to meet a countryman of his stamp in that quiet corner of the world.

The prefeto was well versed in the history of Palenque. It is in the province of Tzendales, and for a century after the conquest of Chiapas it remained in possession of the Indians. Two centuries ago, Lorenzo Mugil, an emissary direct from Rome, set up among them the standard of the cross. The Indians still preserve his dress as a sacred relic, but they are jealous of showing it to strangers, and I could not obtain a sight of it. The bell of the church, too, was sent from the holy city. The Indians submitted to the dominion of the Spaniards until the year 1700, when the whole province revolted, and in Chillon, Tumbala, and Palenque they apostatized from Christianity, murdered the priests, profaned the churches, paid impious adoration to an Indian female, massacred the white men, and took the women for their wives. But, as soon as the intelligence reached Guatimala, a strong force was sent against them, the revolted towns were reduced and recovered to the Catholic faith, and tranquillity was restored. The right of the Indians, however, to the ownership of the soil was still recognised, and down to the time of the Mexican Independence they received rent for land in the villages and the milpas in the neigh bourhood.

A short distance from Palenque the River Chacamal separates it from the country of the unbaptized Indians, who are here called Caribs. Fifty years ago the Padre Calderon, an uncle of the prefect's wife, attended by his sacristan, an Indian, was bathing in the river, when the latter cried out in alarm that some Caribs were looking at them, and attempted to fly; but the padre took his cane and went toward them. The Ca