great _pitahayas_ were in bloom, and their
white flowers looked well against the ugly, stiff green branches. The
roadside was bordered with _acacias_ which, in full bloom, presented
masses of golden balls and perfumed the air with their delicate odor.
Passing a considerable sugar _hacienda_, the trail struck into the
mountains, and for three hours we made a steady ascent. The road itself
was excellent but the sun beat down with fearful force, and the heat
was reflected from the bare road and the rock cliffs along which we
travelled. At one place the vegetation consisted of a curious mixture of
gigantic cactuses, rising as single stalks as high as telegraph poles
but larger in diameter, and palms. Arriving at the crest, we saw a long
plain stretching before us, presenting a mingled growth of palms and
pines. At the very border of the ridge stood a hut of poles, where we
stopped to drink _tepache_ and to eat broiled chicken which we had
brought with us. We found the old woman, an indian--neither Cuicatec,
Chinantec, Mixtec, nor Zapotec, as we might expect--but a full Aztec
from Cordoba. She was bright and shrewd, and, as we chatted with her,
we noticed a little chicken a few days old awkwardly running about with
curiously deformed feet. Upon my noticing it, the old lady remarked that
the moon made it so. I inquired what she meant. She said, "Yes, we
know it is the moon which shapes the bodies of all young animals." We
followed the road a long distance over the hot plain, passing San Pedro
Jocotepec to our left, and shortly after, struck up the mountain side
and had another long and steady climb, until, at last, we reached the
crest of all the district. Here and there, we encountered bits of
limestone, which always, in this southern country, makes the worst
roads for travel. The rain erodes it into the oddest of forms, leaving
projecting ridges almost as sharp as knife-edges, with irregular hollows
pitting the surface, so that it forms a most insecure and unpleasant
foot-hold for the animals. Not only so, but the surface, rough as it is,
is frequently as polished as glass, and, whether wet or dry, is slippery
to the tread. Walking over these jagged surfaces of limestone is
destructive to any shoes. A single afternoon of this will do more wear
than a month of ordinary use. Troublesome as these limestones are, as
roads, they are ever interesting, because the masses by the roadside
present the most astonishing and beautiful for