PASSAGE OF THE SIERRA. 



95 



At the distance of three leagues we commenced 

 ascending the sierra, and for two hours the road lay 

 over an immense ledge of solid rock. Next to the 

 Mico Mountain, it was the worst range I ever cross- 

 ed, but of entirely different character; instead of 

 gullies, and holes, and walls of mud, it consisted 

 of naked, broken rock, the reflection of the sun 

 upon which was intense and extremely painful to 

 the eyes. In some places it was slippery as glass. 

 I had crossed the sierra in two different places be- 

 fore, but they were comparatively like the passage 

 of the Simplon with that of San Bernard or San 

 Gothard across the Alps. My horse's hoofs clattered 

 and rang at every step, and, though strong and sure- 

 footed, he stumbled and slid in a way that was 

 painful and dangerous to both horse and rider ; in- 

 deed, it would have been an agreeable change to 

 be occasionally stuck in the mud. It was impossi- 

 ble to go faster than a walk, and, afraid that night 

 would overtake us, in which case, as there was no 

 moon, we might lose our way, I dismounted and 

 hurried on, leading my horse. 



It was nearly dark when we reached the top of 

 the last range. The view was the grandest I had 

 seen in the country. On the very brink stood the 

 church of La Hermita, below the village of Oxcutz- 

 cab, and beyond a boundless wooded plain, dotted 

 in three places with villages. We descended by a 

 steep and stony path, and, winding along the front of 

 La Hermita, came upon a broad pavement of stones 



