LOSING A GOOD FRIEND. 



157 



we met an Indian, who confirmed what the muleteers 

 had told us, that the road to Santiago Atitan, the place 

 of residence of Don Saturnino's relatives, was five 

 leagues, and exceedingly bad, and, in order to save 

 our luggage-mules, we resolved to leave, them at the 

 village of Godines, about a mile farther on. The vil- 

 lage consisted of but three or four huts, entirely deso- 

 late ; there was not a person in sight. We were afraid 

 to trust our mozos alone ; they might be robbed, or 

 they might rob us themselves ; besides, they had no- 

 thing to eat. We were about at the head of the Lake 

 of Atitan. It was impossible, with the cargo-mules, to 

 reach Santiago Atitan that day ; it lay on the left bor- 

 der of the lake ; our road was on the right, arid it 

 was agreed for Don Saturnino to go on alone, and for 

 us to continue on our direct road to Panachahel, a vil- 

 lage on the right border opposite Atitan, and cross the 

 lake to pay our visit to him. We were advised that 

 there were canoes for this purpose, and bade fare- 

 well to Don Saturnino with the confident expectation 

 of seeing him again the next day at the house of his 

 relatives ; but we never met again. 



At two o'clock we came out upon the lofty table of 

 land bordering the Lake of Atitan. In general I have 

 forborne attempting to give any idea of the magnificent 

 scenery amid which we were travelling, but here for- 

 bearance would be a sin. From a height of three or 

 four thousand feet we looked down upon a surface shi- 

 ning like a sheet of molten silver, enclosed by rocks 

 and mountains of every form, some barren, and some 

 covered with verdure, rising from five hundred to five 

 thousand feet in height. Opposite, down on the borders 

 of the lake, and apparently inaccessible by land, was the 

 town of Santiago Atitan, to which our friend was wend- 



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