me mats to cover the cases, and
preserve their contents from the damp. About eleven o'clock our host's
family assembled in front of the hut; the women and young girls were
dressed in red or blue petticoats, with their shoulders covered with
embroidered cotton chemisettes: and the younger boys were clothed in a
sort of blouse without sleeves. The grandmother was the last to make her
appearance, and she had a necklace of very valuable pearls round her
neck. The women wore ornaments made of bits of rough coral, and their
fingers were loaded with silver rings.

"We always assemble together on Sunday at the hour for mass, to say our
prayers together," said Coyotepec to me, "and to thank God who covers
the trees with fruit, and preserves us in good health."

"We are Christians the same as you," I answered gravely.

Then every one knelt down, and the old man recited the Litanies and a
succession of Ave Marias. After this one of the young girls chanted a
canticle, assisted by the others, who joined in. The singer had scarcely
finished her hymn, when l'Encuerado, perfectly electrified, entreated
the audience not to move, and at once struck up one of his favorite
chants. He kept us at least half an hour in the burning sun, till, being
tired of kneeling, I made signs to him to leave off. But it was lost
labor, for my servant pretended not to perceive me, and only multiplied
his gestures and cries, repeating the same verse three times running.

"Amen!" at last I cried, in a loud voice, getting up.

Every one followed my example; so, being at last set at liberty, I went
away, while the Indians surrounded l'Encuerado to congratulate him.

I had not yet paid a visit to the ravine, which, situated as it was in
the midst of the _Terre-Froide_, yielded the same kind of productions as
the _Terre-Chaude_. I called Sumichrast and Lucien, and, under the
guidance of Torribio, the Indian who every year drove the donkeys to
Puebla, we ascended the course of the stream.

Our guide first led us to his hut, surrounded by Bourbon palms. This
beautiful tree, belonging to the palm family, has a strange and yet an
agreeable appearance. From its very summit long stalks shoot out, at the
end of which hangs a wide leaf, which is first folded, and afterwards
spreads out like a fan ornamented with points. The Indians cut up these
leaves to weave the mats, called _petates_, which form an article of
such extensive commerce in Mexico. They are also used