112 
GUATEMALA. 
the embers of the mozos’ fires in the Plaza. Although the 
corridor was full of mozos who were to pass the night 
here, there was no noise whatever. We closed our door 
at six ; and as soon as our notes were made, fell asleep. 
The poor Indios had no politics to quarrel over, and we 
had the satisfaction of a day well spent; so there was 
peace and harmony beneath our roof of tiles. 
Every day the vegetation changed, and we might have 
constructed an itinerary of floral landmarks; to-daj it 
was a fine pink dahlia far surpassing in vigor of growth 
and blossom any of the cultivated varieties. In such a 
climate, however, this plant did not provide for hiberna¬ 
tion in its tuberous roots, of which it had none. Acres 
of fragrant Stevia perfumed the air, while Bouvardias 
and bright Composite© brushed against us on either side 
of the narrow pathway. 
Twelve hours of solid rest were not too much; and 
while in the early dawn our besticis were being saddled, 
I strolled into the church, which is much smaller than 
its ruined predecessor at its side. In Central America 
the roofless walls of ancient churches usually, if not 
always, enclose a campo santo, and here the early Cune- 
nans slept their last sleep among the crumbling relics of 
their work. In the modern church were two large mer¬ 
maids of the genuine Japanese type, carved as supporters 
to the altar. 
In the cold, misty morning we started without cof¬ 
fee, and at once began to climb a long ascent; for 
Cunen seems to be built on a platform on the mountain 
side. On our left was the finest waterfall we had yet 
seen, and on the banks were red violets. The sum¬ 
mit of this pass was nearly seven thousand feet, and 
