league, and from the remaining summit to the plain was a distance of three leagues, which he affirms he measured in 1615. The area, by my measurement, is 83 paces long and 60 wide. According to Torquemada (and such is the tradition according to Padre Alcantara, of Ciudad Vieja), this immense basin, probably the crater of an extinct volcano, with sides much higher than they are now, became filled with water by accumulations of snow and rain. There never was any eruption of water, but one of the sides gave way, and the immense body of fluid rushed out with horrific force, carrying with it rocks and trees, inundating and destroying all that opposed its progress. The immense barranca or ravine by which it descended, was still fearfully visible on the side of the mountain. The height of this mountain has been ascertained by barometrical observation to be 14,450 feet above the level of the sea. The edge of the crater commands a beautiful view of the old city of Guatimala, 32 surrounding villages, and the Pacific Ocean; at least so I am told, but I saw nothing of it. Nevertheless, I did not regret my labour; and though drenched with rain and plastered with mud, I promised myself in the month of February, when the weather is fine, to ascend again, prepared for the purpose, and pass two or three days in the crater.[1]
At one o'clock we began our descent. It was rapid, and sometimes dangerous, from the excessive steepness and slipperiness, and the chance of pitching head foremost against the trunk of a tree. At two o'clock we reached the cross; and I mention, as a hint for others, that, from the pressure of heavy water-proof boots upon the toes, I was obliged to stop frequently; and, after changing the pressure by descending sidewise and backward, catching at the branches of trees, I was obliged to pull off my boots and go down barefooted, ankle deep in mud. My feet were severely bruised by the stones, and I could hardly walk at all, when I met one of the Indians pulling my horse up the mountain to meet me. At four o'clock we reached Santa Maria, at five the Antigua, and at a quarter past I was in bed.
The next morning I was still asleep when Señor Vidaurre rode into the courtyard to escort me on my journey. Leaving Rumaldo to follow, I was soon mounted; and emerging from the city, we entered the open plain, shut in by mountains, and cultivated to their base with cochineal. At about a mile's distance we turned in to the hacienda of Señor Vidaurre. In the yard were four oxen grinding
- ↑ I ascended this Volcano, shortly after Mr. Stephens, during perfectly clear weather, and beheld from its summit one of the most extensive and beautiful views I ever beheld, reminding me much of the view from the top of Mount Etna. The thermometer fell from 74° to 34° in less than ten minutes.—F.C.
