front of which is represented in the
engraving opposite. It is two hundred and forty feet long; the front is
much ruined, the apartments are filled, and along the centre of the
roof, running longitudinally, is a range of structures built in a
pyramidal form, like the fronts of some of the old Dutch houses that
still remain among us, but grander and more massive. These are nine in
number, built of stone, about three feet thick, and have small oblong
openings through them. These openings give them somewhat the appearance
of pigeon-houses, and from this the name of the building is derived.
All had once been covered with figures and ornaments in stucco,
portions of which still remain. The view presented is in profile, as
the full front could not be exhibited on this scale.

In the centre of this building is an archway ten feet wide, which leads
into a courtyard one hundred and eighty feet long and one hundred and
fifty feet deep. In the centre of the courtyard, and thrown down, is
the same large stone so often mentioned. On the right is a range of
ruined buildings, on the left a similar range, and rising behind it the
high mound represented in the frontispiece; and in front, at the end of
the courtyard, is a range of ruined buildings, with another archway in
the centre. Crossing the courtyard, and passing through this archway,
we ascend a flight of steps, now ruined, and reach another courtyard,
one hundred feet long by eighty-five deep. On each side of this
courtyard, too, is a range of ruined buildings, and at the other end is
a great Teocalis, two hundred feet in length, one hundred and twenty
deep, and about fifty feet high. A broad staircase leads to the top, on
which stands a long narrow building, one hundred feet by twenty,
divided into three apartments.

There was a mournful interest about this great pile of ruins. Entering
under the great archway, crossing two noble courtyards, with ruined
buildings on each side, and ascending the great staircase to the
building on the top, gave a stronger impression of departed greatness
than anything else in this desolate city. It commanded a view of every
other building, and stood apart in lonely grandeur, seldom disturbed by
human footsteps. On going up to it once Mr. Catherwood started a deer,
and at another time a wild hog.

At the northeast angle of this building is a vast range of high, ruined
terraces, facing east and west, nearly eight hundred feet long at the
base, an