THE ATLANTIC COAST AND ITS CONNECTIONS. 53 
that met me was a fine blue butterfly (. Morpho ), nearly eight 
inches across. I could not, and Guillermo would not, catch 
it, because he said it was mala por los ojos (bad for the 
eyes). It was a“ sight for sair e’en.” I found this curious 
superstition about butterflies common all through the coun¬ 
try, and I confess that following their brilliantly colored 
wings in their rapid flight, under a blazing sun, does give 
one’s eyes a very tired feeling that may explain the origin 
of the popular belief. I will not compel any one to follow 
me through the forest, nor up the steep limestone ridges 
where the corroded rock was worn into fantastic forms 
and partly covered with begonias, lycopodiums, and other 
plants. We found several circular valleys among those 
ridges drained by sink-holes, and often I heard water run¬ 
ning beneath my feet. In some places were little wells, 
like the cenotes of Yucatan, containing fish, which pass 
from one to another by underground aqueducts. Again 
and again I mistook for serpents the huge, green, scaly 
creepers that flattened themselves against the trees or 
swung from the branches. Sluggish and insignificant 
centipedes were not uncommon on the trees; but noth¬ 
ing except tracks of wild hogs, peccaries, jaguars, and 
tapirs indicated that the forest was the resort of trouble¬ 
some animals. The entire absence of any fallen or de¬ 
caying trees or dead branches was a marked feature of 
this forest. The insects had eaten all this unpleasant 
matter; and in one place we saw a cavity as large as a 
barrel, where the ants had eaten a palm-stump, leaving 
only the fibrous roots to keep the earth in place about 
the large hole. 
Towards noon the air, loaded with moisture and un¬ 
moved by any wind in the forest, became almost unbear- 
