A GRAND TURKEY HUNT.
repeated applications of a raw-hide thong. We finally passed the other volan, but a sudden pulling up of the mules caused us all to look out, when we saw that we had run into a party of Indians, and unhorsed a woman, who picked herself up out of the dust and limped to the roadside, sullenly and without a word, while her terrified steed dashed away out of sight. Then we went on again, furiously, and at daylight were entering the street of an inland town called Motul, ten leagues from Merida. Already many people were in the street, and we entered a house and got a cup of chocolate, after which John and I visited the cathedral, built in 1651. The altar was nearly stripped of ornaments, but there yet remained two massive candelabra of solid silver.
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RAMON SELLER (Vendedor de Ramon).
A mile from the plaza, we came to the famous cenote of Motul, one of those used by the aborigines of Yucatan. It is the deepest hereabouts, and the water can only be seen by looking down a deep well; but there is an entrance by a larger hole, through which you reach a great chamber, very dark and gloomy, and swarming with bats and lizards. Undressing in this chamber, you enter the water, the glimmer of which is visible by going in some ways, and swim towards the light, then, by diving under a ledge that falls from the roof above nearly to the surface, you find yourself in the circular opening some sixty feet beneath the surface of the earth. It is not a pleasant place to bathe in at all, but it is
