A LAND OF MOUNTAINS. 



77 



and forded the river ; a great part of the bed was dry, 

 and we rode along it for some distance, but could find 

 no path that led up the mountain. At length we struck 

 one, but it proved to be a cattle-path, and we wandered 

 for more than an hour before we found the camino real ; 

 and this royal road was barely a track by which a sin- 

 gle mule could climb. It was evident that our mule- 

 teer did not know the road, and the region we were en- 

 tering was so wild that we had some doubts about fol- 

 lowing him. At eleven we reached the top of the 

 mountain, and, looking back, saw at a great distance, 

 and far below us, the town of Chiquimula ; on the right, 

 up the valley, the village of St. Helena ; and, rising 

 above a few thatched huts, another gigantic and roof- 

 less church. On each side were mountains still higher 

 than ours, some grand and gloomy, with their summits 

 buried in the clouds ; others in the form of cones and 

 pyramids, so wild and fantastic that they seemed sport- 

 ing with the heavens, and I almost wished for wings to fly 

 and light upon their tops. Here, on heights apparently 

 inaccessible, we saw the wild hut of an Indian, with his 

 milpa or patch of Indian corn. Clouds gathered around 

 the mountains, and for an hour we rode in the rain ; 

 when the sun broke through we saw the mountain tops 

 still towering above us, and on our right, far below 

 us, a deep valley. We descended, and found it nar- 

 rower and more beautiful than any we had yet seen, 

 bounded by ranges of mountains several thousand feet 

 high, and having on its left a range of extraordinary 

 beauty, with a red soil of sandstone, without any brush 

 or underwood, and covered with gigantic pines. In 

 front, rising above the miserable huts of the village, 

 and seeming to bestride the valley, was the gigantic 

 church of St, John the Hermit, reminding me of the 



