While longing for the comfort of a good hotel, we received, through Mr. Goff, the consul of the United States, an invitation from his excellency Colonel M'Donald to the government-house, and information that he would send to the brig for our luggage. As this was the first appointment I had ever held from government, and I was not sure of ever holding another, I determined to make the most of it, and accepted at once his excellency's invitation. There was a steam-boat for Yzabal, the port of Guatimala, lying at Balize, and on my way to the government-house I called upon the agent, who told me that she was to go up the next day; but added, with great courtesy, that, if I wished it, he would detain her a few days for my convenience. Used to submitting to the despotic regulations of steam-boat agents at home, this seemed a higher honour than the invitation of his excellency; but not wishing to push my fortune too far, I asked a delay of one day only.

The government-house stands at the extreme end of the town, with a lawn extending to the water, and ornamented with cocoa-nut trees. Colonel M'Donald, a veteran six feet high, and one of the most militarylooking men I ever saw, received me at the gate. In an hour the dory arrived with our luggage, and at five o'clock we sat down to dinner..... The next morning we made an excursion in the government pit-pan. This is the same fashion of boat in which the Indians navigated the rivers of America before the Spaniards discovered it. European ingenuity has not contrived a better, though it has, perhaps, beautified the Indian model. Ours was about forty feet long, and six wide in the centre, running to a point at both ends, and made of the trunk of a mahogany tree. Ten feet from the stern, and running forward, was a light wooden top, supported by fanciful stanchions, with curtains for protection against sun and rain: it had large cushioned seats, and was fitted up almost as neatly as the gondolas of Venice. It was manned by eight negro soldiers, who sat two on a seat, with paddles six feet long, and two stood up behind with paddles as steersmen. A few touches of the paddles gave brisk way to the pit-pan, and we passed rapidly the whole length of the town. It was an unusual thing for his excellency's pit-pan to be upon the water: citizens stopped to gaze at us, and all the idle negroes hurried to the bridge to cheer us. This excited our Africans, who with a wild chant that reminded us of the songs of the Nubian boatmen on the Nile, swept under the bridge, and hurried us into the still expanse of a majestic river. Before the cheering of the negroes died away we were in as perfect a solitude as if removed thousands of miles from human habitations. The Balize river, coming from sources even yet but little known to civilised man, was then in its fulness. On each side was a dense, unbroken forest; the banks were overflowed; the trees seemed to grow out of the water, their branches spreading across so as almost to shut out the light of the sun, and reflected in the water as in a mirror. The sources of the river were occupied by the aboriginal owners, wild and free as Cortez found them. We had an eager desire to penetrate by it to the famous lake of Peten, where the skeleton of the conquering Spaniard's horse was erected into a god by the astonished Indians; but the toil of our boatmen reminded us that they were paddling against a rapid current. We turned the pit-pan, and with the full power of the

stream,

stream, a pull stronger, and a chant louder than before, amid the increased cheering of the negroes, swept under the bridge, and in a few minutes were landed at the government-house.

In order that we might embark at the hour appointed, Colonel M'Donald had ordered dinner at two o'clock. Perhaps I am wrong, but I should do violence to my feelings did I fail to express here my sense of the Colonel's kindness. Before rising, he, like a loyal subject, proposed the health of the queen; after which he ordered the glasses to be filled to the brim, and, standing up, he gave "The health of Mr. Van Buren, President of the United States," accompanying it with a warm and generous sentiment, and the earnest hope of strong and perpetual friendship between England and America. I felt at the moment, "Cursed be the hand that attempts to break it ;" and albeit unused to taking the President and the people upon my shoulders, I answered as well as I could. The government dory lay at the foot of the lawn. Colonel M'Donald put his arm through mine, and told me that I was going into a distracted country; that Mr. Savage, the American consul at Guatimala, had, on a previous occasion, protected the property and lives of British subjects; and, if danger threatened me, I must assemble the Europeans, hang out my flag, and send word to him. I knew that these were not mere words of courtesy, and in the state of the country to which I was going felt the value of such a friend at hand. With the warmest feelings of gratitude I bade him farewell, and stepped into the dory. At the moment flags were run up at the government staff, the fort, the court-house, and the government schooner, and a gun was fired from the fort. As I crossed the bay, a salute of thirteen guns was fired; passing the fort the soldiers presented arms, the government schooner lowered and raised her ensign, and when I mounted the deck of the steam-boat, the captain, with hat in hand, told me that he had instructions to place her under my orders, and to stop wherever I pleased. The reader will perhaps ask how I bore all these honours. I had visited many cities, but it was the first time that flags and cannon announced to the world that I was going away. I was a novice, but I endeavoured to behave as if I had been brought up to it; and to tell the truth, my heart beat, and I felt proud: for these were honours paid to my country, and not to me. To crown the glory of the parting scene, my good friend Captain Hampton had charged his two four-pounders, and when the steam-boat got under way he fired one, but the other would not go off. The captain of the steam-boat, a small, weather-beaten, dried-up old Spaniard, with courtesy enough for a don of old, had on board one puny gun, with which he would have returned all their civilities; but alas! he had no powder. . .. At ten o'clock the captain came to me for orders. I have had my aspirations, but never expected to be able to dictate to the captain of a steamboat. Nevertheless, again as coolly as if I had been brought up to it, I designated the places I wished to visit, and retired. Verily, thought I, if these are the fruits of official appointments, it is not strange that men are found willing to accept them.'—vol. i. pp. 20-24.

On the second day the travellers reach the Rio Dolce, which is thus sweetly described :

• A narrow

'A narrow opening in a rampart of mountains wooed us on, and in a few moments we entered the Rio Dolce. On each side, rising perpendicularly from 300 to 400 feet, was a wall of living green. Trees grew from the water's edge, with dense, unbroken foliage to the top; not a spot of barrenness was to be seen; and on both sides, from the tops of the highest trees, long tendrils descended to the water, as if to drink and carry life to the trunks that bore them. It was, as its name imports, a Rio Dolce, a fairy scene of Titan land, combining exquisite beauty with colossal grandeur. As we advanced the passage turned, and in a few minutes we lost sight of the sea, and were enclosed on all sides by a forest wall; but the river, although showing us no passage, still invited us onward. Could this be the portal to a land of volcanoes and earthquakes, torn and distracted by civil war? For some time we looked in vain for a single barren spot; at length we saw a naked wall of perpendicular rock, but out of the crevices, and apparently out of the rock itself, grew shrubs and trees. Sometimes we were so enclosed that it seemed as if the boat must drive in among the trees. Occasionally, in an angle of the turns, the wall sank, and the sun struck in with scorching force, but in a moment we were again in the deepest shade. All was as quiet as if man had never been there before. The pelican, the stillest of birds, was the only living thing we saw, and the only sound was the panting of our steam engine. The wild defile that leads to the excavated city of Petra is not more noiseless or more extraordinary, but strangely contrasted in its sterile desolation, while here all is luxuriant, romantic, and beautiful. For nine miles the passage continued thus one scene of unvarying beauty, when suddenly the narrow river expanded into a large lake, encompassed by mountains and studded with islands, which the setting sun illuminated with gorgeous splendour. We remained on deck till a late hour, and awoke the next morning in the harbour of Yzabal!'-vol. i. pp. 33, 34.

The journey from Yzabal to Zacapa, on the route to Guatimala across the Mico Mountains, was laborious. After passing a few straggling huts, and crossing a marshy plain sprinkled with small trees, they entered a dense, unbroken forest, the track full of deep puddles and mud-holes, the roots of the trees rising two or three feet above the ground and crossing the path in every direction, those of the mahogany-trees in particular, high at the trunk, and with sharp edges traversing rocks and the roots of other trees. The ascent began precipitously by a narrow gully, worn by the feet of mules and the washing of torrents. It was so deep and narrow that the sides were above the heads of the travellers, and they could barely pass in single file. If any one of the mules stopped, all behind were blocked up, and unable even to turn. It was the end of the rainy season, and the mountain in the worst state in which it was possible to cross it, for at times it is impossible altogether. When near the top they met a solitary traveller. He was a tall, dark-complexioned man, with a broad-brimmed Panama

hat

hat rolled up at the sides, a striped woollen jacket with fringe at the bottom, plaid pantaloons, leather spatterdashes, spurs, and sword, and was encrusted in mud from head to foot. He was mounted on a noble mule with a high-peaked saddle, and the butts of a pair of horseman's pistols peeped out of the holsters. To their surprise he accosted them in English: he had set out with muleteers and Indians, but had lost them in some of the windings of the woods, and was seeking his way alone.

His mule had thrown him twice, and she was now so frightened that he could scarcely urge her along: he himself was dreadfully exhausted, and asked them for brandy, wine, or anything to revive him. Great was their astonishment when he told them that he had been two years in Guatimala negotiating' for a bank-charter, that he had got it, and was then on his way to England to sell the stock!

At Encuentros, on the banks of the Motagua river, which Mr. Stephens speaks of as one of the noblest in Central America, surrounded by giant mountains,' and rolling through them, broad and deep, with the force of a mighty torrent, they take up their abode for the night in the house of the great man of the place:

The don received us with great dignity in a single garment, loose, white, and very laconic, not quite reaching his knees. The dress of his wife was no less easy; somewhat in the style of the old-fashioned short gown and petticoat; only the short gown and whatever else is usually worn under it were wanting, and their place supplied by a string of beads, with a large cross at the end. A dozen men and half-grown boys, naked, except the small covering formed by rolling the trousers up and down, were lounging about the house; and women and girls in such extremes of undress, that a string of beads seemed quite a covering for modesty. The general reception-room contained three beds, made of strips of cowhide interlaced. The don occupied one: he had not much undressing to do, but what little he had he did by pulling off his shirt. Another bed was at the foot of my hammock. I was dozing, when I opened my eyes, and saw a girl about seventeen sitting sideway upon it, smoking a cigar. She had a piece of striped cotton cloth tied about her waist, and falling below her knees; the rest of her dress was the same which nature bestows alike upon the belle of fashionable life and the poorest girl: in other words, it was the same as that of the don's wife, with the exception of the string of beads. At first I thought it was something I had conjured up in a dream; and as I waked up perhaps I raised my head, for she gave a few quick puffs of her cigar, drew a cotton sheet over her head and shoulders, and lay down to sleep. .. Several times during the night we were waked by the clicking of flint and steel, and saw one of our neighbours lighting a cigar. At daylight the wife of the don was enjoying her morning slumber. While I was dressing she bade me good morning, removed the

....

cotton

cotton covering from her shoulders, and arose dressed for the day.'— vol. i. pp. 56, 57.

Arrived at Zacapa, Mr. Stephens, in consequence of the reports which reached him of the disturbed state of Guatimala, determined to postpone his visit to that place, and in the mean time to direct his steps to the ruined city of Copan, one of the principal objects of interest with him. In this as in some other parts of the book we cannot forbear smiling at the easy way in which our young diplomatist rounds off the corners of his political functions to suit his antiquarian propensities. We have not the slightest doubt that Mr. Stephens was an able and zealous public servant, but we doubt whether Burleigh, or his royal mistress either, would have selected a professed antiquary for an embassage through a land of ruined cities; and certainly were we to send a youthful Monkbarns on a message across Salisbury Plain, we should not be surprised to find that he had given his horse a very comfortable bait at Stonehenge. We have so many proofs of Mr. Stephens's courage, that his dread of the disturbances at Guatimala at this particular moment, and his flying for security in the direction of his darling ruins, is amusing; and we cannot but suspect that had the danger been at Copan, and the safety at Guatimala, the zealous explorer would have found out some excellent reasons for braving it. Certain it is that the path which he selected was not without its dangers. At the close of their second day's journey from Zacapa, during which they had seen seven gigantic churches in ruins, the colossal grandeur and costliness of which were startling in a region of desolation,' they entered Comotan, which was the very picture of a deserted village not a human being was to be seen; and the door of the cabildo was barricadoed to prevent the entrance of straggling cattle. Having torn it open and taken possession, they sent their servant on a foraging expedition. In half an hour he returned with one egg: but he had roused the village; and the alcalde, an Indian with a silver-headed cane, and seven alguazils with long thin wands of office, came down to interrogate them. Mr. Stephens showed them his passport: they could not read it, but examined the seal, and left them, after having returned the answer-which afterwards became but too familiar-no hay' (there is none) — to the demand for eggs, fowls, and milk.

The alcalde, however, sent them a jar of water; and they had concluded their supper of bread and chocolate, and were getting into their hammocks, when the door was suddenly burst open, and twenty-five or thirty men rushed in, the alcalde, alguazils, soldiers, Indians, and mestitzoes, ragged and ferocious-looking

fellows,