INNATTENANGO, 205 
AYOTLA. 
26th September. We were off at half-past three, by the moonlight of a 
cold and frosty morning, and the first streak of day found our troop 
winding high up the spur of hills that juts out from the sides of Popoca- 
tepetl, which was in full view, with the clouds rolling off from its lofty 
head as the sun rose. 
Behind us, for near twenty leagues, the tierra caliente extended dis- 
tinctly until the view was bounded by a bold and craggy sierra. We 
wound upward through the hill farms, hanging against the sides of the 
mountains, and among the pine forests, through whose branches a cold 
autumn wind was whistling. The road was lined with crosses, many 
of them recently erected, and hung with garlands and flowers. — It is a 
dangerous pass and infested by hordes of robbers, who attack the travel- 
lers either passing from Cuautla to the Valley of Mexico or returning 
with the proceeds of their sales. 
Beyond the village of Hoochietipec we lost sight both of the plain of 
Cuautla and the tierra caliente, and soon afterward the Valley of Mexico 
appeared to the west. 
At Tenango we stopped to breakfast and to wait for Pedro, who had 
been missing for the last two hours, having lingered behind with a lame 
horse. 
Our inn was a small rat hole of a meson for muleteers, with a corral of 
a couple of acres; but the whole establishment bore the sounding name 
of the " PurisimM Sangre de Christo!" 
We found, to our sorrow, that we were no longer in the land of rich 
haciendas and hospitable administradors. The old song of " no hai !" 
had recommenced. Tortillas, chile, molle, pan, pulque, agua ? — "No 
hai!" With a little coaxing, however, we got one of the women of the 
house to seek out the remnant of corn from their breakfast, which was 
soon ground into tortillas. As we were beginning to devour them, Don 
Juan espied an Indian bearing a couple of earthen jugs of milk, with 
one of which and our leathery cakes, we managed to stay our stomachs 
till dinner. Pedro had not yet come up with us, and as it was decided 
to wait for him, I laid down on a rock at the door of the meson and slept 
soundly. 
After an hour's delay, during which the servant did not appear, and 
presuming that he might have passed by some other road (as he was well 
acquainted with this part of the country,) we again mounted, and descend- 
ing by a series of inclined planes, speedily reached the level of the vale 
of Mexico. 
This valley is exceedingly different from the tierra caliente. Although 
the temperature is milder, yet everything is dry, parched, withered and 
volcanic. The hill-sides and mountains are stripped of their forests — the 
