Dr. Cabot, depressed
by the state of things, and out of pure sympathy, joined us. Our
servants went away, we were all three pinned to our beds together, and
determined forthwith to leave Uxmal.

The next day it rained again, and we passed the hours in packing up,
always a disagreeable operation, and then painfully so. The next day we
departed, perhaps forever, from the Casa del Gobernador.

As we descended the steps, Mr. C. suggested that it was Newyear's day.
It was the first time this fact had presented itself; it called up
scenes strikingly contrasted with our own miserable condition, and for
the moment we would have been glad to be at home. Our coches were in
readiness at the foot of the terrace, and we crawled in; the Indians
raised us upon their shoulders, and we were in motion from Uxmal. There
was no danger of our incurring the penalty of Lot's wife; we never
looked back; all the interest we had felt in the place was gone, and we
only wanted to get away. Silent and desolate as we found them, we left
the ruins of Uxmal, again to be overgrown with trees, to crumble and
fall, and perhaps, in a few generations, to become, like others
scattered over the country, mere shapeless and nameless mounds.

Our housekeeping and household were again broken up. Albino and
Bernaldo followed us, and as we passed along the edge of the milpa,
half hidden among the cornstalks was the stately figure of Chaipa Chi.
She seemed to be regarding as with a mournful gaze. Alas! poor Chaipa
Chi, the white man's friend! never again will she make tortillas for
the Ingleses in Uxmal! A month afterward she was borne to the campo
santo of the hacienda. The sun and rain are beating upon her grave. Her
bones will soon bleach on the rude charnel pile, and her skull may
perhaps one day, by the hands of some unscrupulous traveller, be
conveyed to Doctor S. G. Morton of Philadelphia.

Our departure from Uxmal was such a complete rout, that it really had
in it something of the ludicrous, but we were not in condition to enjoy
it at the time. Notwithstanding the comparatively easy movement of the
coche, both Mr. C. and I suffered excessively, for, being made of poles
hastily tied together, the vehicle yielded under the irregular steps of
the carriers. At the distance of two leagues they laid us down under a
large seybo tree, opposite the hacienda of Chetulish, part of the
domain of Uxmal. As if in mockery of us, the Indians were all out of
doors in ho