212 
GUATEMALA. 
this Sunday was a red-letter day, marked by this tree 
named in honor of the great Conquistador. A fine arbo¬ 
rescent composite, with dark-orange blossoms of the size 
and shape of thistles, closely recalled the Hesperomannia 
that my dear friend Horace Mann (the younger) discov¬ 
ered during our explorations in the Hawaiian Islands, 
twenty years before. 
In the afternoon we passed the rancho of Don Caye- 
tano, where we saw good cattle, but did not stop until 
some distance beyond, when we boiled our coffee by the 
roadside and I photographed our travelling arrangements. 
Although we arrived at Gualan at half-past five, we had 
more than the usual trouble in finding a lodging; but at 
last a deaf old man, who was also burdened with a large 
goitre, took us into his comfortable house of two rooms, 
while Santiago, who professed to be familiar with the 
place, took our animals in charge. The town was insig¬ 
nificant and decayed, although on the main road from 
Guatemala City to the coast. After a supper of the 
toughest meat we had found in this republic, our host 
gave us his daughter's room * and while Frank attempted 
to make the little bed comfortable, I slung my hammock 
from the dusty rafters. The daughter, about sixteen, was 
rather pretty, and we were sorry to incommode her; but 
she turned in with the old man, and we could hear that 
they were both asleep long before we got used to the 
squeaking noise of a lizard in the thatch and to the 
showers of dust every motion of my hammock shook 
down from above. 
We were at the head of navigation on the Motagua, 
and decided to send our mozos on to Los Amates by land, 
while we took a canoa. Santiago had promised us one in 
