CROSSINGARIVER. 187 
The day was far advanced, when I stood for the last time on the corner, 
stone of the upper terrace and looked at the beautiful prospect around me. 
It was the centre of a mighty plain. Running due north were the re- 
mains of an ancient paved road, leading over prairie and barranca to the 
city,* distinctly visible at the foot of the Sierra Madre — and, all around, 
at the distance of some miles, east, west, and south, rose lofty mountains, 
among whose valley-folds nestled the white walls of haciendas that owed 
their strength and massiveness to the spoliation of the very ruins on which 
I stood. Palace, temple, tomb, fortification, whatever it was, (and to all 
these uses has it been appropriated by the guessing tribe of antiquarians,) 
the Pyramid of Xochicalco was nobly situated in its day and generation, 
and no one will now visit its crumbling remains without a better opinion 
of the unfortunate races who were pushed aside to make room for the 
growth and expansion of European power. 
TETECALA. 
• It was near three o'clock, when we again took up our line of march 
under a burning sun ; and, lingering with Pedro until after my compan- 
ions had departed, I found, on reaching the bottom of the hill, that they 
were already out of sight, and that all traces of them were lost on the 
path among the trees and bushes. I shouted — but there was no an- 
swer. I inquired at the first Indian hut I passed, but no travellers had 
gone that way ; and, although following a distinct and apparently straight- 
forward road, I acknowledge that I was lost. To add to my disquietude, 
I had forgotten the name of the village at which we were to lodge. It 
was useless, however, to sit down in the forest, and I therefore resolved 
to push onward with confidence that the path led somewhere. I had not 
gone more than half a mile when I came up with another straggler of 
our party — lost, like myself — and we trotted along side by side, occa- 
sionally shouting for our companions, and then halting a moment to take 
breath in the close and sultry air filled with clouds of mosquitos and 
flies that settled on our hands and faces as soon as we drew our bridles. 
Suddenly, our road terminated at the margin of a wide stream, which 
was swollen over its banks by the late heavy rains, and was dashing along 
with the rapidity of a mill-race. On the opposite shore the road again 
reappeared, and we judged that this was of course the ford. 
Pedro, who was mounted on a stout, long-legged animal, was sent ahead, 
and partly swimming his animal and partly wading, he reached the bank 
in safety. I immediately followed, but my horse was both short limbed, 
and weary from the exertions he had made in the morning. Scarcely had 
the water risen above his girth when he was off his legs. I kept his head 
* Cuernavaca 
