shivering crept over me, and in a few minutes we
were all three in our hammocks. A few hours had made a great change in
our condition; and we came near bringing our host down with us. He had
been employed in preparing breakfast upon a large scale, and seemed
mortified that there was no one to do it justice. Out of pure good
feeling toward him, I had it brought to the side of my hammock. My
effort made him happy, and I began to think my prostration was merely
the reaction from over-excitement; and by degrees what I began to
please our host I continued for my own satisfaction. The troubles of my
companions no longer disturbed me. My equanimity was perfectly
restored, and, breakfast over, I set out to look at the ruins.

Ever since our arrival in Yucatan we had received courtesies and
civilities, but none more thorough than those bestowed by our host of
Nohcacab. He had come out with the intention of passing a week with us,
and the Indians and the whole rancho were at our service as long as we
chose to remain.

Passing through one of the huts, we soon came to a hill covered with
trees and very steep, up which the proprietor had cut, not a mere
Indian path, but a road two or three yards wide, leading to a building
standing upon a terrace on the brow of the hill. The facade above the
cornice had fallen, and below it was of plain stone. The interior was
entire, but without any distinguishing features. Following the brow of
this hill, we came to three other buildings, all standing on the same
range, and without any important variations in the details, except that
in one the arch had no overlapping stone, but the two sides of the
ceiling ran up to a point, and formed a complete angle. These, the
Indian told as, were the only buildings that remained. That from which
the pillars in the church at Xul were taken was a mere mass of ruins. I
was extremely disappointed. From the accounts which had induced us to
visit this place, we had made larger calculations. It was the first
time I had been thoroughly disappointed. There were no subjects for the
pencil, and, except the deep and abiding impression of moving among the
deserted structures of another ruined and desolate city, there was
nothing to carry away. The proprietor seemed mortified that he had not
better ruins to show us, but I gave him to understand that it was not
his fault, and that he was in no wise to blame. Nevertheless, it was
really vexatious, with such good-will on h