CHAPTER XIII.
EXCURSION TO ANTIGUA AND THE PACIFIC OCEAN—SAN LUCAS—MOUNTAIN SCENERY—EL RIO PENSATIVO—LA ANTIGUA—ACCOUNT OF ITS DESTRUCTION—AN OCTOGENARIAN—THE CATHEDRAL—SAN JUAN OBISPO—SANTA MARIA—VOLCANO DE AGUA—ASCENT OF THE MOUNTAIN—THE CRATER—A LOFTY MEETING-PLACE—THE DESCENT—RETURN TO LA ANTIGUA—CULTIVATION OF COCHINEAL—CLASSIC GROUND—CIUDAD VIEJA—ITS FOUNDATION—VISIT FROM INDIANS—DEPARTURE FROM CIUDAD VIEJA—FIRST SIGHT OF THE PACIFIC—ALOTENANGO—VOLCAN DEL FUEGO—ESCUINTLA—SUNSET SCENE—MASAGUA—PORT OF ISTAPA—ARRIVAL AT THE PACIFIC.
On Tuesday, the 17th of December, I set out on an excursion to La Antigua Guatimala and the Pacific Ocean. I was accompanied by a young man who lived opposite, and wished to ascend the Volcano de Agua. I had discharged Augustin, and with great difficulty procured a man who knew the route. Rumaldo had but one fault—he was married: like some other married men, he had a fancy for roving; but his wife set her face against this propensity; she said that I was going to El Mar, the sea, and might carry him off, and she should never see him again, and the affectionate woman wept at the bare idea; but upon my paying the money into her hands before going, she consented. My only luggage was a hammock and pair of sheets, which Rumaldo carried on his mule, and each had a pair of alforjas, or saddle-bags. At the gate we met Don José Vidaurre, whom I had first seen in the president's chair of the Constituent Assembly, and was going to visit his hacienda at the Antigua. Though it was only a journey of five or six hours, Señor Vidaurre, being a very heavy man, had two led horses, one of which he insisted on my mounting; and when I expressed my admiration of the animal, he told me, in the usual phrase of Spanish courtesy, that the horse was mine. It was done in the same spirit in which a Frenchman, who had been entertained hospitably in a country house in England, offered himself to seven of the daughters, merely for the compliment; and my worthy friend would have been very much astonished if I had accepted his offer.
The road to Mixco I have already described. In the village I stopped to see Chico. His hand had been cut off, and he was doing well. Leaving the village, we ascended a steep mountain, from the top of which we had a fine view of the village at its foot, the plain and city of Guatimala, and the Lake of Amatitan, enclosed by a belt of mountains. Descending by a wild and rugged road, we reached a
