ook his
hand, kissed it, and walked away. No sense of degradation crossed his
mind. Indeed so humbled is this once fierce people, that they have a
proverb of their own, "Los Indies no oigan si no por las nalgas"--"The
Indians cannot hear except through their backs," and the cura related
to us a fact which indicates an abasement of character perhaps never
found in any other people. In a village not far distant, the name of
which I have lost, they have a fiesta with a scenic representation
called Shtol. The scene is laid at the time of the conquest. The
Indians of the village gather within a large place enclosed by poles,
and are supposed to be brought together by an invasion of the
Spaniards. An old man rises and exhorts them to defend their country;
if need be, to die for it. The Indians are roused, but in the midst of
his exhortations a stranger enters in the dress of a Spaniard and armed
with a musket. The sight of this stranger throws them all into
consternation; he fires the musket, and they fall to the ground. He
binds the chief; carries him off captive, and the play is ended.

[Engraving 6: Gateway at Mucuyche]

After breakfast the cura left us to return to his village, and we set
out to continue our journey to Uxmal. Our luggage was sent off by
Indians of the hacienda, and the major domo accompanied us on
horseback. Our road was by a bridle path over the same stony country,
through thick woods. The whole way it lay through the lands of the
provisor, all wild, waste, and desolate, and showing the fatal effects
of accumulation in the hands of large landed proprietors. In two hours
we saw rising before us the gate of the hacienda of Mucuyche. To the
astonishment of the gaping Indians, the doctor, as he wheeled his
horse, shot a hawk that was hovering over the pinnacle of the gateway,
and we rode up to the house.

I trust the reader has not forgotten this fine hacienda. It was the
same to which, on our former visit, we had been borne on the shoulders
of Indians, and in which we had taken a bath in a senote, never to be
forgotten. We were once more on the hands of our old friend Don Simon
Peon. The whole hacienda, horses, mules, and Indians, were at our
disposal. It was but ten o'clock, and we intended to continue our
journey to Uxmal, but first we resolved upon another bath in the
senote. My first impression of the beauty of this fancy bathing-place
did not deceive me, and the first glance satisfied me that I incu