be found in that vicinity, they offered to show me one of the most
interesting relics of olden times. A few days later they ushered
into my presence a venerable old Indian. His hairs were gray, his
eyes blue with age. The late curate of the place, Senor Dominguez,
who departed this life at the respectable age of ninety, was wont
to say that he had, since a child, and as long as he could
remember, always known Mariano Chable, the same old man. They give
him 150 years at least; yet he enjoys perfect health; still works
at his trade (he is a potter); is in perfect possession of his
mental faculties, and of an unerring memory. Having lost his wife,
of about the same age as himself, but a short time before my
interview with him, he complained of feeling lonely, and thought
that as soon as the year of mourning was over he would take another
wife to himself. It was a Sunday morning that we met for the first
time. He had been to church, assisted at mass. There the
recollection of his departed life-companion had assailed him and
filled his old heart with sadness,--and he had called to his relief
another acquaintance--rum--to help him to dispel his sorrow. Sundry
draughts had made him quite talkative. He was in the right
condition to open his bosom to a sympathizing friend,--so I was to
him already. The libation I offered with him to the _manes_ of his
regretted mate unsealed his lips. After a few desultory questions,
with the object of testing his memory and intelligence, with great
caution I began to inquire about the points I had more at heart--to
wit, to gather all possible information and traditions upon the
ruins of Chichen-Itza I was about to visit. The old man spoke only
Maya; and my friend Cipriano Rivas, well versed in that language,
was my interpreter, not being myself sufficiently proficient in it
to hold a long conversation.

"Father," said I, "have you ever been in Chichen? Do you know
anything about the big houses that are said to exist there?"

"I have never been in Chichen, and of my own knowledge know nothing
of those big houses; but remember what the old men used to say
about them when I was young."

"And what was that, pray. Will you tell me?"

"Oh yes! I had a friend in _Saci_ (Valladolid today),--he died
forty years ago or