southern Sierra, with the morning mists resting like lakes among their folds.
Passing over the declivitous road we had traversed yesterday, we soon struck off to the right, near the hacienda of Temisco, and after crossing a deep ravine, rose to a still higher plateau, where we enjoyed a beautiful view of this splendid estate, with its white walls and chapel tower, buried in the middle of bright green cane-fields, waving with the fresh breeze in the early light.
From this eminence the guide (who was a half-breed Indian and Negro,) pointed out to me a small mountain, at the extremity of the plain in front, on which was situated the Pyramid of Xochicalco—the subject of our day's explorations. The cerro appears to rise directly out of the levels between two mountains, and the plain continuing to its very foot, might seemingly be traversed in half an hour. Accordingly, I expressed this opinion to the guide, and put my horse directly in motion for it; but the half-breed turned off to the right. I remonstrated, as the whole plateau appeared to be a perfect prairie, smooth and easily crossed; yet he insisted that in the straight forward direction, and, indeed, in all directions, it was cut by one of those vast barrancas, which, worn by the attrition of water for ages, break on you unexpectedly in the most level fields, forcing you frequently to tread back your path or to go miles around for a suitable crossing. The space in a direct line over these gullies may be no more than fifty yards before you strike the same level on the opposite bank—and yet to reach it, you are compelled to descend hundreds of feet and ascend again, among rocks and herbage for the distance of a mile. Such was the account of the barrancas, given by our guide, except that he declared the one in front of us to be at present entirely impassable. I submitted, therefore, to his advice, and turning off with him to the right, we trotted away at the head of our party, and soon lost sight of our lagging friends.
In a quarter of an hour we reached one of the barrancas of which he had spoken, and it fully justified his description:—a wide, yawning gulf in the midst of the plain, with precipitous sides tangled with rocks and shrubbery.
Although the path was scarcely broad enough for the horse's feet,—with a steep towering on the right, and a precipice of a hundred yards plunging down immediately on his left,—this bold rider never quitted his animal, but pushed right onward. I confess that I paused before I followed.
Two travellers, who passed us half an hour before, had already descended, and were thridding their way on the other side of the glen among the rocks. Instead, however, of taking the side of the opposite steep in a right line with the descent, as they ought to have done, they had followed the downward course of the stream in seeking for an easier rise, and they were forced to halt before a pile of impassable rocks, from which they shouted to our guide for directions.
