S O L 0 L A. 



165 



fifteen hundred or two thousand feet, was a village, 

 with its church conspicuous, and it seemed as if we 

 could throw a stone down upon its roof. From the 

 moment this lake first opened upon us until we left it, 

 our ride along it presented a greater combination of 

 beauties than any locality I ever saw. The last ascent 

 occupied an hour and three quarters. As old travel- 

 lers, we would have avoided it if there had been any 

 other road ; but, once over, we would not have missed it 

 for the world. Very soon we saw Solola. In the sub- 

 urbs drunken Indians stood in a line, and took off their 

 old petates (straw hats) with both hands. It was Sun- 

 day, and the bells of the church were ringing for ves- 

 pers, rockets were firing, and a procession, headed by 

 violins, was parading round the plaza the figure of a 

 saint on horseback, dressed like a harlequin. Oppo- 

 site the cabildo the alcalde, with a crowd of Mestitzoes 3 

 was fighting cocks. 



The town stands on the lofty borders of the Lake of 

 Amatitan, and a hundred yards from it the whole water 

 was visible. I tied my horse to the whipping-post, and, 

 thanks to Carrera's passport, the alcalde sent off for sa- 

 cate, had a room swept out in the cabildo, and offered 

 to send us supper from his own house. He was about 

 ten days in office, having been appointed since Carrera's 

 last invasion. Formerly this place was the residence of 

 the youngest branch of the house of the Kachiquel In- 

 dians. 



It was our purpose at this place to send our luggage 

 on by the main road to Totonicapan, one day's journey 

 beyond, while we struck off at an angle and visited the 

 ruins of Santa Cruz del Quiche. The Indians of that 

 place, even in the most quiet times, bore a very bad 

 name, and we were afraid of hearing such an account 



