248 The Naturalist in Nicaragua 
the two places there had been none. Our road again lay 
over grassy plains and low, lightly-timbered hills, with very 
few houses—probably not more than one in a league. The 
country was now greener; they had had showers of rain, 
and fine grass had sprung up. Passing as we did from 
a dried-up district into one covered with verdure, feelings 
were awakened akin to those with which in the temperate 
zone we welcome the spring after a long winter. 
As we rode on, the grass increased; there were swampy 
places in the hollows, and now and then very muddy spots 
on the road. On every side the prospect was bounded by 
long ranges of hills—some of them precipitous, others 
covered to the summits with dark foliaged trees, looking 
nearly black in the distance. About noon we came in sight 
of the Amerrique range, which I recognised at once, and 
knew that we had reached the Juigalpa district, though still 
several leagues distant from the town. Travelling on without 
halting we arrived at the hacienda of San Diego at four 
o’clock. Velasquez expected to find in the owner an old 
acquaintance of his, and we had intended staying with him 
for the night, as our mules were tired out; but on riding up 
to the house we found it untenanted, the doors thrown down, 
and cattle stabling in it. We pushed on again. I thought 
I could make La Puerta, a hacienda three leagues nearer 
Libertad than Juigalpa, and as the road to it branched off 
from that to Juigalpa soon after passing San Diego, and 
Velasquez had to go to the latter place to make arrangements 
for getting our luggage sent on, I parted with him, and pushed 
on alone. Soon after, I crossed rather a deep river, and 
in a short time my mule, which had shown symptoms of 
distress, became almost unable to proceed, so that it was 
only with the greatest difficulty I could get along at all. 
After leading—almost dragging—it slowly for about a mile 
I reached a small hut, where they told me that it was three 
leagues to La Puerta, and only one to Juigalpa. The road 
to Puerta was all up hill, and it was clearly impossible for 
me to reach it that night, so I turned off across the savannahs, ' 
in the direction of Juigalpa, wishing that I had not separated 
from Velasquez. My poor beast was dragged along with 
much labour, and I was getting thoroughly knocked up 
myself. Several small temporary huts were passed, in 
