Caxton's Book: A Collection of Essays, Poems, Tales, and Sketches.

by W. H. Rhodes

  [Decoration]

  VII.

  _THE AZTEC PRINCESS._

  "Speaking marble."--BYRON.

  CHAPTER I.

  In common with many of our countrymen, my attention has been powerfullydrawn to the subject of American antiquities, ever since the publicationof the wonderful discoveries made by Stephens and Norman Among the ruinsof Uxmal and Palenque.

  Yucatan and Chiapas have always spoken to my imagination more forciblythan Egypt or Babylon; and in my early dreams of ambition I aspired toemulate the fame of Champollion _le Jeune_, and transmit my name toposterity on the same page with that of the decipherer of thehieroglyphics on the pyramids of Ghizeh.

  The fame of warriors and statesmen is transient and mean, when comparedto that of those literary colossii whose herculean labors have turnedback upon itself the tide of oblivion, snatched the scythe from thehands of Death, and, reversing the duties of the fabled Charon, are nowbusily engaged in ferrying back again across the Styx the shades of theillustrious dead, and landing them securely upon the shores of trueimmortality, the ever-living Present! Even the laurels of the poet andorator, the historian and philosopher, wither, and

  "Pale their ineffectual fires"

  in the presence of that superiority--truly godlike in itsattributes--which, with one wave of its matchless wand, conjures upwhole realms, reconstructs majestic empires, peoples desolatewastes--voiceless but yesterday, save with the shrill cry of thebittern--and, contemplating the midnight darkness shrouding Thebes andNineveh, cries aloud, "Let there be light!" and suddenly Thotmes startsfrom his tomb, the dumb pyramids become vocal, Nimroud wakes from hissleep of four thousand years, and, springing upon his battle-horse, oncemore leads forth his armies to conquest and glory. The unfamiliar airlearns to repeat accents, forgotten ere the foundations of Troy werelaid, and resounds once more with the echoes of a tongue in which oldMenes wooed his bride, long before Noah was commanded to build the Ark,or the first rainbow smiled upon the cloud.

  All honor, then, to the shades of Young and Champollion, Lepsius and DeLacy, Figeac and Layard. Alexander and Napoleon conquered kingdoms, butthey were ruled by the living. On the contrary, the heroes I havementioned vanquished mighty realms, governed alone by the

  "Monarch of the Scythe and Glass,"

  that unsubstantial king, who erects his thrones on broken columns andfallen domes, waves his sceptre over dispeopled wastes, and builds hiscapitals amid the rocks of Petraea and the catacombs of Egypt.

  # # # # #

  Such being the object of my ambition, it will not appear surprising thatI embraced every opportunity to enlarge my knowledge of my favoritesubject--American Antiquities--and eagerly perused every new volumepurporting to throw any light upon it. I was perfectly familiar with theworks of Lord Kingsborough and Dr. Robertson before I was fifteen yearsof age, and had studied the explorations of Bernal Diaz, Waldeck, andDupaix, before I was twenty. My delight, therefore, was boundless when acopy of Stephens's travels in Yucatan and Chiapas fell into my hands,and I devoured his subsequent publications on the same subject with allthe avidity of an enthusiast. Nor did my labors stop here. Very early Isaw the importance of an acquaintance with aboriginal tongues, andimmediately set about mastering the researches of Humboldt andSchoolcraft. This was easily done; for I discovered, much to my chagrinand disappointment, that but little is known of the languages of theIndian tribes, and that little is soon acquired. Dissatisfied with suchinformation as could be gleaned from books only, I applied for andobtained an agency for dispensing Indian rations among the Cherokees andOuchitaws, and set out for Fort Towson in the spring of 1848.

  Soon after my arrival I left the fort, and took up my residence at thewigwam of Sac-a-ra-sa, one of the principal chiefs of the Cherokees. Myintention to make myself familiar with the Indian tongues was noisedabroad, and every facility was afforded me by my hospitable friends. Itook long voyages into the interior of the continent, encountereddelegations from most of the western tribes, and familiarized myselfwith almost every dialect spoken by the Indians dwelling west of theRocky Mountains. I devoted four years to this labor, and at the end ofthat period, with my mind enriched by a species of knowledgeunattainable by a mere acquaintance with books, I determined to visitCentral America in person, and inspect the monuments of Uxmal andPalenque with my own eyes.

  Full of this intention, I took passage on the steamship "Prometheus," inDecember, 1852, bound from New York to Greytown, situated in the Stateof Nicaragua; a point from which I could easily reach Chiapas orYucatan.

  And at this point of my narrative, it becomes necessary to digress for amoment, and relate an incident which occurred on the voyage, and which,in its consequences, changed my whole mode of investigation, andintroduced a new element of knowledge to my attention.

  It so happened that Judge E----, formerly on the Bench of the SupremeCourt of the State of New York, was a fellow-passenger. He had beenemployed by the Nicaragua Transit Company to visit Leon, the capital ofNicaragua, and perfect some treaty stipulations with regard to theproject of an interoceanic canal. Fellow-passengers, we of course becameacquainted almost immediately, and at an early day I made respectfulinquiries concerning that science to which he had of late yearsconsecrated his life--I mean the "Theory of Spiritual Communion betweenthe Two Worlds of Matter and Spirit." The judge was as communicative asI could desire, and with the aid of two large manuscript volumes (whichwere subsequently given to the public), he introduced me at once intothe profoundest arcana of the science. I read his books through with thedeepest interest, and though not by any means convinced, I was startledand bewildered. The most powerful instincts of my nature were aroused,and I frankly acknowledged to my instructor, that an irresistiblecuriosity had seized me to witness some of those strange phenomena withwhich his volumes superabounded. Finally, I extorted a promise from him,that on our arrival at Greytown, if a favorable opportunity presented,he would endeavor to form the mystical circle, and afford me theprivilege I so much coveted--_to see for myself_. The anticipatedexperiments formed the staple of our conversation for the six weary daysand nights that our trip occupied. Finally, on the morning of theseventh day, the low and wooded coast of Nicaragua gently rose in thewestern horizon, and before twelve o'clock we were safely riding atanchor within the mouth of the San Juan River. But here a new vexationwas in store for us. The river boats commenced firing up, and beforedark we were transferred from our ocean steamer to the lighter crafts,and were soon afterwards leisurely puffing our way up the river.

  The next day we arrived at the upper rapids, where the little village ofCastillo is situated, and where we had the pleasure of being detainedfive or six days, awaiting the arrival of the California passengers.This delay was exactly what I most desired, as it presented theopportunity long waited for with the utmost impatience. But the weathersoon became most unfavorable, and the rain commenced falling intorrents. The Judge declared that it was useless to attempt anything solong as it continued to rain. But on the third evening he consented tomake the experiment, provided the materials of a circle could be found.We were not long in suspense, for two young ladies from Indiana, a youngdoctor from the old North State (now a practicing physician in Stockton,California), and several others, whose names I have long sinceforgotten, volunteered to take part in the mysterious proceedings.

  But the next difficulty was to find a place to meet in. The doctor and Istarted off on a tour through the village to prepare a suitable spot.The rain was still falling, and the night as dark as Erebus. Hoistingour umbrellas, we defied night and storm. Finally, we succeeded inhiring a room in the second story of a building in process of erection,procured one or two lanterns, and illuminated it to the best of ourability. Soon afterwards we congregated there, but as the doors andwindows were not put in, and there were no chairs or tables, we wereonce more on the point of giving up in despair. Luckily there werefifteen or twenty baskets of claret wine unopened in the room, and thesewe arranged for
seats, substituting an unhinged door, balanced on a pileof boxes, for the leaf of a table. Our rude contrivance workedadmirably, and before an hour had rolled by we had received a mass ofcommunications from all kinds of people in the spirit world, and fullysatisfied ourselves that the Judge was either a wizard or what heprofessed to be--a _medium_ of communication with departed spirits.

  It is unnecessary to detail all the messages we received; one only do Ideem it important to notice. A spirit, purporting to be that of HoratioNelson, rapped out his name, and stated that he had led the assault onthe Spaniards in the attack of the old Fort of Castillo frowning aboveus, and there first distinguished himself in life. He declared thatthese mouldering ruins were one of his favorite haunts, and that heprided himself more on the assault and capture of _Castillo Viejo_ thanon the victory of the Nile or triumph of Trafalgar.

  The circle soon afterwards dispersed, and most of those who hadparticipated in it were, in a few minutes, slumbering in their cots. Asfor myself, I was astounded with all that I had witnessed, but at thesame time delighted beyond measure at the new field opening before me. Itossed from side to side, unable to close my eyes or to calm down theexcitement, until, finding that sleep was impossible, I hastily rose,threw on my coat, and went to the door, which was slightly ajar. Onlooking out, I observed a person passing toward the foot of the hillupon which stood the Fort of Castillo Viejo. The shower had passed off,and the full moon was riding majestically in mid heavens. I thought Irecognized the figure, and I ventured to accost him. It was the Judge.He also had been unable to sleep, and declared that a sudden impulsedrove him forth into the open air.

  Gradually he had approached the foot of the hill, which shot up, like asugar-loaf, two or three hundred feet above the level of the stream, andhad just made up his mind to ascend it when I spoke to him. I readilyconsented to accompany him, and we immediately commenced climbingupwards.

  The ascent was toilsome, as well as dangerous, and more than once wewere on the point of descending without reaching the summit. Still,however, we clambered on, and at half-past one o'clock A. M., wesucceeded in our effort, and stood upon the old stone rampart that hadfor more than half a century been slowly yielding to the remorselesstooth of Time. Abandoned for many years, the ruins presented the verypicture of desolation. Rank vines clung upon every stone, and halffilled up with their green tendrils the yawning crevices everywheregaping at us, and whispering of the flight of years.

  We sat down on a broken fragment that once served as the floor of aport-hole, and many minutes elapsed before either of us spoke a word. Wewere busy with the past. Our thoughts recalled the terrible scenes whichthis same old fort witnessed on that glorious day when the youthfulNelson planted with his own hand the flag of St. George upon the veryramparts where we were sitting.

  How long we had been musing I know not; but suddenly we heard a low,long-drawn sigh at our very ears. Each sprang to his feet, looked wildlyaround, but seeing nothing, gazed at the other in blank astonishment. Weresumed our seats, but had hardly done so, when a deep and mostanguishing groan was heard, that pierced our very hearts. This time weretained our position. I had unclosed my lips, preparatory to speakingto my companion, when I felt myself distinctly touched upon theshoulder. My voice died away inarticulately, and I shuddered withill-concealed terror. But my companion was perfectly calm, and moved nota nerve or a muscle. Able at length to speak, I said, "Judge, let usleave this haunted sepulchre."

  "Not for the world," he coolly replied. "You have been anxious forspiritual phenomena; now you can witness them unobserved and withoutinterruption."

  As he said this, my right arm was seized with great force, and I wascompelled to resign myself to the control of the presence that possessedme. My right hand was then placed on the Judge's left breast, and hisleft hand laid gently on my right shoulder. At the same time he took apencil and paper from his pocket, and wrote very rapidly the followingcommunication, addressed to me:

  The Grave hath its secrets, but the Past has none. Time may crumble pyramids in the dust, but the genius of man can despoil him of his booty, and rescue the story of buried empires from oblivion. Even now the tombs of Egypt are unrolling their recorded epitaphs. Even now the sculptured mounds of Nineveh are surrendering the history of Nebuchadnezzar's line. Before another generation shall pass away, the columns of Palenque shall find a tongue, and the _bas-reliefs_ of Uxmal wake the dead from their sleep of two thousand years. Young man! open your eyes; we shall meet again amid the ruins of the _Casa Grande_!

  At this moment the Judges hand fell palsied at his side, and the paperwas thrust violently into my left hand. I held it up so as to permit therays of the moon to fall full upon it, and read it carefully frombeginning to end. But no sooner had I finished reading it than a shocksomething like electricity struck us simultaneously, and seemed to rockthe old fort to its very foundation. Everything near us was apparentlyaffected by it, and several large bowlders started from their ticklishbeds and rolled away down the mountain. Our surprise at this was hardlyover, ere one still greater took possession of us. On raising our eyesto the moss-grown parapet, we beheld a figure sitting upon it that borea very striking resemblance to the pictures in the Spanish Museum atMadrid of the early Aztec princes. It was a female, and she bore uponher head a most gorgeous headdress of feathers, called a _Panache_. Herface was calm, clear, and exceedingly beautiful. The nose wasprominent--more so than the Mexican or Tezcucan--and the complexion muchlighter. Indeed, by the gleam of the moonlight, it appeared as white asthat of a Caucasian princess, and were an expression full of benignityand love.

  Our eyes were riveted upon this beautiful apparition, and our lipssilent. She seemed desirous of speaking, and once or twice I beheld herlips faintly moving. Finally, raising her white, uncovered arm, shepointed to the north, and softly murmured, "_Palenque_!"

  Before we could resolve in our minds what to say in reply, the fairyprincess folded her arms across her breast, and disappeared as suddenlyand mysteriously as she had been evoked from night. We spoke not a wordto each other, but gazed long and thoughtfully at the spot where thebright vision had gladdened and bewildered our sight. By a commonimpulse, we turned to leave, and descended the mountain in silence asdeep as that which brooded over chaos ere God spoke creation into being.We soon reached the foot of the hill, and parted, with no word upon ourlips, though with the wealth of untold worlds gathered up in our hearts.

  Never, since that bright and glorious tropical night, have I mentionedthe mysterious scene we witnessed on the ramparts of Fort Castillo; andI have every reason to believe that my companion has been as discreet.

  This, perhaps, will be the only record that shall transmit it to thefuture; but well I know that its fame will render me immortal.

  Through me and me alone, the sculptured marbles of Central America havefound a tongue. By my efforts, Palenque speaks of her buried glories,and Uxmal wakes from oblivion's repose. Even the old pyramid of Cholulayields up its bloody secrets, and _Casa Grande_ reveals the dreadhistory of its royalties.

  The means by which a key to the monumental hieroglyphics of CentralAmerica was furnished me, as well as a full account of the discoveriesmade at Palenque, will be narrated in the subsequent chapters of thishistory.

  CHAPTER II.

  "Amid all the wreck of empires, nothing ever spoke so forcibly the world's mutations, as this immense forest, shrouding what was once a great city."--STEPHENS.

  At daylight on the next morning after the singular adventure recorded inthe preceding chapter, the California passengers bound eastward arrived,and those of us bound to the westward were transshipped to the samesteamer which they had just abandoned. In less than an hour we were allaboard, and the little river-craft was busily puffing her way toward thefairy shores of Lake Nicaragua.

  For me, however, the evergreen scenery of the tropics possessed nocharms, and its balmy air no enchantments. Sometimes, as the steamerapproached the ivy-clad banks, laden as they were
with flowers of everyhue, and alive with ten thousand songsters of the richest and mostvariegated plumage, my attention would be momentarily aroused, and Ienjoyed the sweet fragrance of the flowers, and the gay singing of thebirds. But my memory was busy with the past, and my imagination with thefuture. With the Judge, even, I could not converse for any length oftime, without falling into a reverie by no means flattering to hispowers of conversation. About noon, however, I was fully aroused to thebeauty and sublimity of the surrounding scenery. We had just passed FortSan Carlos, at the junction of the San Juan River with the lake, andbefore us was spread out like an ocean that magnificent sheet of water.It was dotted all over with green islands, and reminded me of thepicture drawn by Addison of the Vision of Mirza.

  Here, said I to myself, is the home of the blest. These emerald islets,fed by vernal skies, never grow sere and yellow in the autumn; neverbleak and desolate in the winter. Perpetual summer smiles above them,and wavelets dimpled by gentle breezes forever lave their shores. Rudestorms never howl across these sleeping billows, and the azure heavenswhisper eternal peace to the lacerated heart.

  Hardly had these words escaped my lips, when a loud report, like a wholepark of artillery, suddenly shook the air. It seemed to proceed from thewestward, and on turning our eyes in that direction, we beheld the truecause of the phenomenon. Ometepe was in active eruption. It had given noadmonitory notice of the storm which had been gathering in its bosom,but like the wrath of those dangerous men we sometimes encounter inlife, it had hidden its vengeance beneath flowery smiles, and coveredover its terrors with deceitful calm.

  In a moment the whole face of nature was changed. The skies became darkand lurid, the atmosphere heavy and sultry, and the joyous waters acrosswhich we had been careering only a moment before with animation andlaughter, rose in tumultuous swells, like the cross-seas in the MexicanGulf after a tornado. Terror seized all on board the steamer, and thepassengers were clamorous to return to Fort San Carlos. But the captainwas inexorable, and seizing the wheel himself, he defied the war of theelements, and steered the vessel on her ordinary course. This laydirectly to the south of Ometepe, and within a quarter of a mile of thefoot of the volcano.

  As we approached the region of the eruption, the waters of the lakebecame more and more troubled, and the air still more difficult torespire. Pumice-stone, seemingly as light as cork, covered the surfaceof the lake, and soon a terrific shower of hot ashes darkened the verysun. Our danger at this moment was imminent in the extreme, for, layingaside all consideration of peril from the volcano itself, it was withgreat difficulty that the ashes could be swept from the deck fast enoughto prevent the woodwork from ignition. But our chief danger was still instore for us; for just as we had arrived directly under the impendingsummit, as it were, a fearful explosion took place, and threatened toingulf us all in ruin. The crater of the volcano, which previously hadonly belched forth ashes and lava, now sent up high into the heavens asheet of lurid fire. It did not resemble gases in combustion, which wedenominate flame, flickering for a moment in transitory splendor, andthen dying out forever. On the contrary, it looked more like _frozenfire_ if the expression may be allowed. It presented an appearance ofsolidity that seemed to defy abrasion or demolition, and rose into theblue sky like a marble column of lightning. It was far brighter thanordinary flame, and cast a gloomy and peculiar shadow upon the deck ofthe steamer. At the same instant the earth itself shook like a summerreed when swept by a storm, and the water struck the sides of the vessellike some rocky substance. Every atom of timber in her trembled andquivered for a moment, then grew into senseless wood once more. At thisinstant, the terrific cry of "Fire!" burst from a hundred tongues, and Ihad but to cast my eyes toward the stern of the ship to realize the newperil at hand. The attention of the passengers was now equally dividedbetween the burning ship and the belching volcano. The alternative of adeath by flame, or by burial in the lake was presented to each of us.

  In a few moments more the captain, crew, and passengers, includingseventeen ladies, were engaged hand to hand with the enemy nearest tous. Buckets, pumps, and even hats, were used to draw up water from thelake and pass to those hardy spirits that dared to press closest to theflames. But I perceived at once that all would prove unavailing. Thefire gained upon the combatants every moment, and a general retreat tookplace toward the stem of the steamer. Fully satisfied what would be thefate of those who remained upon the ship, I commenced preparing tothrow myself into the water, and for that purpose was about tearing oneof the cabin doors from its hinges, when the Judge came up, and accostedme.

  He was perfectly calm; nor could I, after the closest scrutiny of hisfeatures, detect either excitement, impatience, or alarm. Inastonishment I exclaimed:

  "Sir, death is at the doors! Prepare to escape from the burning ship."

  "There is no danger," he replied calmly; "and even if there were, whatis this thing that we call _death_, that we should fear it? Composeyourself, young man; there is as yet no danger. I have been forewarnedof this scene, and not a soul of us shall perish."

  Regarding him as a madman, I tore the door from its hinges with thestrength of despair, and rushing to the side of the ship, was in thevery act of plunging overboard, when a united shriek of all thepassengers rose upon my ear, and I paused involuntarily to ascertain thenew cause of alarm. Scarcely did I have time to cast one look at themountain, ere I discovered that the flames had all been extinguished atits crater, and that the air was darkened by a mass of vapor, renderingthe sunlight a mockery and a shadow. But this eclipse was ourredemption. The next moment a sheet of cool water fell upon the ship,and in such incredible masses, that many articles were washed overboard,and the door I held closely in my hands was borne away by the flood. Thefire was completely extinguished, and, ere we knew it, the danger over.

  Greatly puzzled how to account for the strange turn in our affairs, Iwas ready at the moment to attribute it to Judge E----, and I had almostsettled the question that he was a necromancer, when he approached me,and putting an open volume in my hand, which I ascertained was a"History of the Republic of Guatemala," I read the following incident:

  Nor is it true that volcanoes discharge only fire and molten lava from their craters. On the contrary, they frequently shower down water in almost incredible quantities, and cause oftentimes as much mischief by floods as they do by flames. An instance of this kind occurred in the year 1542, which completely demolished one half the buildings in the city of Guatemala. It was chiefly owing to this cause that the site of the city was changed; the ancient site being abandoned, and the present locality selected for the capital.[A-109]

  [Footnote A-109: Thompson's History of Guatemala, p. 238.]

  Six months after the events recorded above, I dismounted from my mulenear the old _cabilda_ in the modern village of Palenque. During thatinterval I had met with the usual fortune of those who travel alone inthe interior of the Spanish-American States. The war of castes was atits height, and the cry of _Carrera_ and _Morazan_ greeted the ear ofthe stranger at almost every turn of the road. Morazan represented thearistocratic idea, still prevalent amongst the better classes in CentralAmerica; whilst Carrera, on the other hand, professed the wildestliberty and the extremest democracy. The first carried in his train thewealth, official power, and refinement of the country; the latter drewafter him that huge old giant, _Plebs._, who in days gone by has pulleddown so many thrones, built the groundwork of so many republics, andthen, by fire and sword and barbarian ignorance, laid their trophies inthe dust. My sense and sympathy took different directions. Reason led meto the side of Morazan; but early prejudices carried me over to Carrera.Very soon, however, I was taught the lesson, that power in the hands ofthe rabble is the greatest curse with which a country can be afflicted,and that a _paper constitution_ never yet made men free. I found out,too, that the entire population was a rabble and that it made but littledifference which hero was in the ascendant. The plunder of thelaboring-classes was equally the object
of both, and anarchy the fate ofthe country, no matter who held the reins. Civil wars have corrupted thewhole population. The men are all _bravos_, and the women coquettes. Thefireside virtues are unknown. It will be generations before thosepseudo-republicans will learn that there can be no true patriotism wherethere is no country; there can be no country where there are no homes;there can be no home where woman rules not from the throne of Virtuewith the sceptre of Love!

  I had been robbed eighteen times in six months; taken prisoner fourtimes by each party; sent in chains to the city of Guatemala, twice byCarrera, and once by Morazan as a spy; and condemned to be shot as atraitor by both chieftains. In each instance I owed my liberation to theAmerican Consul-General, who, having heard the object with which Ivisited the country, determined that it should not be thwarted by theseintestine broils.

  Finally, as announced above, I reached the present termination of myjourney, and immediately commenced preparations to explore the famousruins in the neighborhood. The first want of a traveler, no matterwhither he roams, is a guide; and I immediately called at the redstoneresidence of the Alcalde, and mentioned to him my name, the purport ofmy visit to Central America, and the object of my present call upon him.Eying me closely from head to foot, he asked me if I had any money("Tiene V. dinero?")

  "Si, senor."

  "Cuanto?"

  "Poco mas de quinientos pesos."

  "Bien; sientase."

  So I took a seat upon a shuck-bottom stool, and awaited the next move ofthe high dignitary. Without responding directly to my application for aguide, he suddenly turned the conversation, and demanded if I wasacquainted with Senor Catherwood or _el gobernador_. (I afterwardslearned that Mr. Stephens was always called Governor by the nativepopulation in the vicinity of Palenque.) I responded in the negative. Hethen informed me that these gentlemen had sent him a copy of their workon Chiapas, and at the same time a large volume, that had been recentlytranslated into Spanish by a member of the Spanish Academy, named DonDonoso Cortes, which he placed in my hands.

  My astonishment can be better imagined than described, when, on turningto the title-page, I ascertained that the book was called "_Nature'sDivine Revelations_. By A. J. DAVIS. _Traducido, etc._"

  Observing my surprise, the Alcalde demanded if I knew the author.

  "Most assuredly," said I; "he is my----" But I must not anticipate.

  After assuring me that he regarded the work as the greatest book in theworld, next to the Bible and Don Quixote, and that he fully believedevery line in it, _including the preface_, he abruptly left the room,and went into the court-yard behind the house.

  I had scarcely time to take a survey of the ill-furnished apartment,when he returned, leading in by a rope, made of horsehair, called a"larriete," a youth whose arms were pinioned behind him, and whosefeatures wore the most remarkable expression I ever beheld.

  Amazed, I demanded who this young man was, and why he had beenintroduced to my notice. He replied, without noticing in the slightestdegree my surprise, that _Pio_--for that was his name--was the bestguide to the ruins that the village afforded; that he was taken prisonera few months before from a marauding party of _Caribs_ (here the youngman gave a low, peculiar whistle and a negative shake of the head), andthat if his escape could be prevented by me, he would be found to beinvaluable.

  I then asked Pio if he understood the Spanish language, but he evincedno comprehension of what I said. The Alcalde remarked that the _mozo_was very cunning, and understood a great deal more than he pretended;that he was by law his (the Alcalde's) slave, being a Carib by birth,and uninstructed totally in religious exercises; in fact, that he was aneophyte, and had been placed in his hands by the Padre to teach therudiments of Christianity.

  I next demanded of Pio if he was willing to conduct me to the ruins. Agleam of joy at once illuminated his features, and, throwing himself atmy feet, he gazed upward into my face with all the simplicity of achild.

  But I did not fail to notice the peculiar posture he assumed whilstsitting. It was not that of the American Indian, who carelessly lollsupon the ground, nor that of the Hottentot, who sits flatly, with hisknees upraised. On the contrary, the attitude was precisely the same asthat sculptured on the _basso-rilievos_ at Uxmal, Palenque, andthroughout the region of Central American ruins. I had first observed itin the Aztec children exhibited a few years ago throughout the UnitedStates. The weight of the body seemed to be thrown on the inside of thethighs, and the feet turned outward, but drawn up closely to the body.No sooner did I notice this circumstance than I requested Pio to rise,which he did. Then, pretending suddenly to change my mind, I requestedhim to be seated again. This I did to ascertain if the first attitudewas accidental. But on resuming his seat, he settled down with greatease and celerity into the self-same position, and I felt assured that Iwas not mistaken. It would have required the united certificates of allthe population in the village, after that, to convince me that Pio was aCarib. But aside from this circumstance, which might by possibility havebeen accidental, neither the color, expression, nor structure of hisface indicated Caribbean descent. On the contrary, the head was smaller,the hair finer, the complexion several shades lighter, and the facialangle totally different. There was a much closer resemblance to Jew thanto Gentile; indeed, the peculiar curve of the nose, and the Syrian leerof the eye, disclosed an Israelitish ancestry rather than an American.

  Having settled these points in my own mind very rapidly, the Alcalde andI next chaffered a few moments over the price to be paid for Pio'sservices. This was soon satisfactorily arranged, and the boy wasdelivered into my charge. But before doing so formally, the Alcaldedeclared that I must never release him whilst in the woods or amongstthe ruins, or else he would escape, and fly back to his barbarianfriends, and the Holy Apostolic Church would lose a convert. He alsoadded, by way of epilogue, that if I permitted him to get away, hisprice was _cien pesos_ (one hundred dollars).

  The next two hours were devoted to preparations for a life in theforest. I obtained the services of two additional persons; one to cookand the other to assist in clearing away rubbish and stones from theruins.

  Mounting my mule, already heavily laden with provisions, mosquito bars,bedding, cooking utensils, etc., we turned our faces toward thesoutheast, and left the modern village of Palenque. For the first mile Iobeyed strictly the injunctions of the Alcalde, and held Pio tightly bythe rope. But shortly afterwards we crossed a rapid stream, and onmounting the opposite bank, we entered a dense forest. The trees were ofa gigantic size, very lofty, and covered from trunk to top withparasites of every conceivable kind. The undergrowth was luxuriant, andin a few moments we found ourselves buried in a tomb of tropicalvegetation. The light of the sun never penetrates those realms ofperpetual shadow, and the atmosphere seems to take a shade from thepervading gloom. Occasionally a bright-plumed songster would start upand dart through the inaccessible foliage, but more frequently wedisturbed snakes and lizards in our journey.

  After traversing several hundred yards of this primeval forest I calleda halt, and drew Pio close up to the side of my mule. Then, taking himby the shoulder, I wheeled him round quickly, and drawing a large knifewhich I had purchased to cut away the thick foliage in my exploration, Ideliberately severed the cords from his hands, and set him free. Insteadof bounding off like a startled deer, as my attendants expected to seehim do, he seized my hand, pressed it respectfully between his own,raised the back of it to his forehead, and then imprinted a kiss betwixtthe thumb and forefinger. Immediately afterward, he began to whistle ina sweet low tone, and taking the lead of the party, conducted us rapidlyinto the heart of the forest.

  We had proceeded about seven or eight miles, crossing two or three smallrivers in our way, when the guide suddenly throw up his hands, andpointing to a huge pile of rubbish and ruins in the distance, exclaimed"_El Palacio_!"

  This was the first indication he had as yet given of his ability tospeak or to understand the Spanish, or, indeed, any tongue, and I wascongratulat
ing myself upon the discovery, when he subsided into apainful silence, interrupted only by an occasional whistle, nor would hemake any intelligible reply to the simplest question.

  We pushed on rapidly, and in a few moments more I stood upon the summitof the pyramidal structure, upon which, as a base, the ruins known as_El Palacio_ are situated.

  These ruins have been so frequently described, that I deem itunnecessary to enter into any detailed account of them; especially as bydoing so but little progress would be made with the more importantportions of this narrative. If, therefore, the reader be curious to geta more particular insight into the form, size, and appearance of thesecurious remains, let him consult the splendidly illuminated pages of DelRio, Waldeck, and Dupaix. Nor should Stephens and Catherwood beneglected; for though their explorations are less scientific andthorough than either of the others, yet being more modern, they willprove not less interesting.

  # # # # #

  Several months had now elapsed since I swung my hammock in one of thecorridors of the old palace. The rainy season had vanished, and the hotweather once more set in for the summer. Still I worked on. I tookaccurate and correct drawings of every engraved entablature I coulddiscover. With the assistance of my taciturn guide, nothing seemed toescape me. Certain am I that I was enabled to copy _basso-rilievos_never seen by any of the great travelers whose works I had read; forPio seemed to know by intuition exactly where they were to be found. Mycollection was far more complete than Mr. Catherwood's, and morefaithful to the original than Lord Kingsborough's. Pio leaned over myshoulder whilst I was engaged in drawing, and if I committed theslightest error his quick glance detected it at once, and a short, roughwhistle recalled my pencil back to its duty.

  Finally, I completed the last drawing I intended to make, and commencedpreparations to leave my quarters, and select others affording greaterfacilities for the study of the various problems connected with thesemysterious hieroglyphics. I felt fully sensible of the immense toilbefore me, but having determined long since to devote my whole life tothe task of interpreting these silent historians of buried realms, hopegave me strength to venture upon the work, and the first step toward ithad just been successfully accomplished.

  But what were paintings, and drawings, and sketches, without some key tothe system of hieroglyphs, or some clue to the labyrinth, into which Ihad entered? For hours I sat and gazed at the voiceless signs before me,dreaming of Champollion, and the _Rosetta Stone_, and vainly hoping thatsome unheard-of miracle would be wrought in my favor, by which a singleletter might be interpreted. But the longer I gazed, the darker becamethe enigma, and the more difficult seemed its solution.

  I had not even the foundation, upon which Dr. Young, and Lepsius, and DeLacy, and Champollion commenced. There were no living Copts, who spoke adialect of the dead tongue in which the historian had engraved hisannals. There were no descendants of the extinct nations, whose solememorials were the crumbling ruins before me. Time had left no teacherwhose lessons might result in success. Tradition even, with heruncertain light, threw no flickering glare around, by which the gropingarchaeologist might weave an imaginary tale of the past.

  "Chaos of ruins, who shall trace the void, O'er the dim fragments cast a lunar light, And say, '_Here was_, _or is_,' where all is doubly night?"

  CHAPTER III.

  "I must except, however, the attempt to explore an aqueduct, which we made together. Within, it was perfectly dark, and we could not move without candles. The sides were of smooth stones, about four feet high, and the roof was made by stones lapping over like the corridors of the buildings. At a short distance from the entrance, the passage turned to the left, and at a distance of one hundred and sixty feet it was completely blocked up by the ruins of the roof which had fallen down."--INCIDENTS OF TRAVEL IN CHIAPAS.

  One day I had been unusually busy in arranging my drawings and formingthem into something like system, and toward evening, had taken my seat,as I always did, just in front of the large _basso-rilievo_ ornamentingthe main entrance into the corridor of the palace, when Pio approachedme from behind and laid his hand upon my shoulder.

  Not having observed his approach, I was startled by the suddenness ofthe contact, and sprang to my feet, half in surprise and half in alarm.He had never before been guilty of such an act of impoliteness, and Iwas on the eve of rebuking him for his conduct, when I caught the kindand intelligent expression of his eye, which at once disarmed me, andattracted most strongly my attention. Slowly raising his arm, he pointedwith the forefinger of his right hand to the entablature before us andbegan to whistle most distinctly, yet most musically, a low monody,which resembled the cadencial rise and fall of the voice in readingpoetry. Occasionally, his tones would almost die entirely away, thenrise very high, and then modulate themselves with the strictest regardto rhythmical measure. His finger ran rapidly over the hieroglyphics,first from left to right, and then from right to left.

  In the utmost amazement I turned toward Pio, and demanded what he meant.Is this a musical composition, exclaimed I, that you seem to be reading?My companion uttered no reply, but proceeded rapidly with his task. Formore than half an hour he was engaged in whistling down the doublecolumn of hieroglyphics engraved upon the entablature before me. So soonas his task was accomplished, and without offering the slightestexplanation, he seized my hand and made a signal for me to follow.

  Having provided himself with a box of lucifer matches and a freshcandle, he placed the same implements in my possession, and started inadvance. I obeyed almost instinctively.

  We passed into the innermost apartments of _El Palacio_, and approacheda cavernous opening into which Mr. Stephens had descended, and which hesupposed had been used as a tomb.

  It was scarcely high enough in the pitch to enable me to stand erect,and I felt a cool damp breeze pass over my brow, such as we sometimesencounter upon entering a vault.

  Pio stopped and deliberately lighted his candle and beckoned me to dothe same. As soon as this was effected, he advanced into the darkestcorner of the dungeon, and stooping with his mouth to the floor, gave along, shrill whistle. The next moment, one of the paving-stones wasraised _from within_, and I beheld an almost perpendicular stonestaircase leading down still deeper under ground. Calling me to hisside, he pointed to the entrance and made a gesture for me to descend.My feelings at this moment may be better imagined than described. Mymemory ran back to the information given me by the Alcalde, that Pio wasa Carib, and I felt confident that he had confederates close at hand.The Caribs, I well know, had never been christianized nor subdued, butroved about the adjacent swamps and fastnesses in their aboriginalstate. I had frequently read of terrible massacres perpetrated by them,and the dreadful fate of William Beanham, so thrillingly told by Mr.Stephens in his second volume, uprose in my mind at this instant, withfearful distinctness. But then, thought I, what motive can this poor boyhave in alluring me to ruin? What harm have I done him? Plunder surelycannot be his object, for he was present when I intrusted all Ipossessed to the care of the Alcalde of the village. Theseconsiderations left my mind in equal balance, and I turned around toconfront my companion, and draw a decision from the expression of hiscountenance.

  One look reassured me at once. A playful smile wreathed his lips, andlightened over his face a gleam of real benevolence, not unmixed, as Ithought, with pity. Hesitating no longer, I preceded him into thoserealms of subterranean night. Down, down, down, I trod, until thereseemed no bottom to the echoing cavern. Each moment the air grewheavier, and our candles began to flicker and grow dimmer, as theimpurities of the confined atmosphere became more and more perceptible.My head felt lighter, and began to swim. My lungs respired with greaterdifficulty, and my knees knocked and jostled, as though faint fromweakness.

  Still there seemed no end to the descent. Tramp, tramp, tramp, I heardthe footsteps of my guide behind me, and I vainly explored the darknessbefore. At length we reached a broad even platform, covered o
ver withthe peculiar tiling found among these ruins. As soon as Pio reached thelanding-place, he beckoned me to be seated on the stone steps, which Iwas but too glad to do. He at once followed my example, and seemed noless rejoiced than I that the descent had been safely accomplished.

  I once descended from the summit of Bunker Hill Monument, and countedthe steps, from the top to the bottom. That number I made 465. Theestimate of the depth of this cavern, made at the time, led me tobelieve that it was nearly equal to the height of that column. But therewas no railing by which to cling, and no friend to interrupt my fall, incase of accident. _Pio was behind me!_

  After I became somewhat rested from the fatigue, my curiosity returnedwith tenfold force, and I surveyed the apartment with real pleasure. Itwas perfectly circular, and was about fifteen feet in diameter, and tenfeet high. The walls seemed to be smooth, except a close, damp coatingof moss, that age and humidity had fastened upon them.

  I could perceive no exit, except the one by which we had reached it.

  But I was not permitted to remain long in doubt on this point; for Piosoon rose, walked to the side of the chamber exactly opposite thestairs, whistled shrilly, as before, and an aperture immediatelymanifested itself, large enough to admit the body of a man! Through thishe crawled, and beckoned me to follow. No sooner had I crept through thewall, than the stone dropped from above, and closed the orificecompletely. I now found myself standing erect in what appeared to be asubterranean aqueduct. It was precisely of the same size, with a flat,cemented floor, shelving sides, and circular, or rather _Aztec-arched_roof. The passage was not straight, but wound about with frequentturnings as far as we pursued it.

  Why these curves were made, I never ascertained, although afterward Igave the subject much attention. We started down the aqueduct at a briskpace, our candles being frequently extinguished by fresh drafts of air,that struck us at almost every turn. Whenever they occurred, we paused amoment, to reillume them, and then hastened on, as silently and swiftlyas before.

  After traversing at least five or six miles of this passage,occasionally passing arched chambers like that at the foot of thestaircase, we suddenly reached the termination of the aqueduct, whichwas an apartment the _fac-simile_ of the one at the other end of it.Here also we observed a stone stairway, and my companion at once beganthe ascent. During our journey through the long arched way behind us, wefrequently passed through rents, made possibly by earthquakes, and morethan once were compelled to crawl through openings half filled withrubbish, sand and stones. Nor was the road dry in all places. Indeed,generally, the floor was wet, and twice we forded small brooks that randirectly across the path. Behind us, and before, we could distinctlyhear the water dripping from the ceiling, and long before we reached theend of the passage, our clothing had been completely saturated. It was,therefore, with great and necessary caution, that I followed my guide upthe slippery stairs. Our ascent was not so tedious as our descent hadbeen, nor was the distance apparently more than half so great to thesurface. Pio paused a moment at the head of the stairway, extinguishedhis candle, and then requested me by a gesture to do likewise. When thiswas accomplished, he touched a spring and the trap-door flew open,_upwards_. The next instant I found myself standing in a chamber butdimly lighted from above. We soon emerged into open daylight, and there,for the first time since the conquest of Mexico by Cortes, the eyes of awhite man rested upon the gigantic ruins of _La Casa Grande_.

  These ruins are far more extensive than any yet explored by travelers inCentral America. Hitherto, they have entirely escaped observation. Thenatives of the country are not even aware of their existence, and itwill be many years before they are visited by the curious.

  But here they were, a solid reality! Frowning on the surrounding gloomof the forest, and the shadows of approaching night, they stretched outon every side, like the bodies of dead giants slain in battle with theTitans.

  Daylight was nearly gone, and it soon became impossible to see anythingwith distinctness. For the first time, the peculiarity of my lonelysituation forced itself upon my attention. I was alone with the Caribboy. I had not even brought my side-arms with me, and I know that it wasnow too late to make any attempt to escape through the forest. The ideaof returning by the subterranean aqueduct never crossed my mind as apossibility; for my nerves flinched at the bare thought of the shrillwhistle of Pio, and the mysterious obedience of the stones.

  Whilst revolving these unpleasant ideas through my brain, the boyapproached me respectfully, opened a small knapsack that I had notbefore observed he carried, and offered me some food. Hungry andfatigued as I was, I could not eat; the same peculiar smile passed overhis features; he rose and left me for a moment, returned, and offered mea gourd of water. After drinking, I felt greatly refreshed, andendeavored to draw my companion into a conversation. But all to nopurpose. He soon fell asleep, and I too, ere long, was quietly reposingin the depths of the forest.

  It may seem remarkable that the ruins of _Casa Grande_ have never beendiscovered, as yet, by professional travelers. But it requires only aslight acquaintance with the characteristics of the surrounding country,and a peep into the intricacies of a tropical forest, to dispel at onceall wonder on this subject. These ruins are situated about five miles ina westerly direction from those known as _El Palacio_, and originallyconstituted a part of the same city. They are as much more grand andextensive than those of _El Palacio_ as those are than the remains atUxmal, or Copan. In fact, they are gigantic, and reminded me forcibly ofthe great Temple of Karnak, on the banks of the Nile. But they lieburied in the fastnesses of a tropical forest. One half of them isentombed in a sea of vegetation, and it would require a thousand menmore than a whole year to clear away the majestic groves that shoot uplike sleepless sentinels from court-yard and corridor, send theirfantastic roots into the bedchamber of royalty, and drop their annualfoliage upon pavements where princes once played in their infancy, andcourtiers knelt in their pride. A thousand vines and parasites areclimbing in every direction, over portal and pillar, over corridor andsacrificial shrine. So deeply shrouded in vegetation are these awfulmemorials of dead dynasties, that a traveler might approach within a fewsteps of the pyramidal mound, upon which they are built, and yet betotally unaware of their existence. I cannot convey a better idea of thedifficulties attending a discovery and explanation of these ruins thanto quote what Mr. Stephens has said of _El Palacio_. "The whole countryfor miles around is covered by a dense forest of gigantic trees, with agrowth of brush and underwood unknown in the wooded deserts of our owncountry, and impenetrable in any direction, except by cutting away witha machete. What lies buried in that forest it is impossible to say of myown knowledge. Without a guide we might have gone within a hundred feetof all the buildings without discovering one of them."

  # # # # #

  I awoke with a start and a shudder. Something cold and damp seemed tohave touched my forehead, and left a chill that penetrated into mybrain. How long I had been asleep, I have no means of ascertaining; butjudging from natural instinct, I presume it was near midnight when Iawoke. I turned my head toward my companion, and felt some relief onbeholding him just where he had fallen asleep. He was breathing heavily,and was completely buried in unconsciousness. When I was fully aroused Ifelt most strangely. I had never experienced the same sensation but oncebefore in my whole life, and that was whilst in company with Judge E----on the stone ramparts of _Castillo Viejo_.

  I was lying flat upon my back, with my left hand resting gently on mynaked right breast, and my right hand raised perpendicularly from mybody. The arm rested on the elbow and was completely paralyzed, or incommon parlance, asleep.

  On opening my eyes, I observed that the full moon was in mid-heavens,and the night almost as bright as day. I could distinctly see thefeatures of Pio, and even noticed the regular rise and fall of hisbosom, as the tides of life ebbed and flowed into his lungs. The hugeold forest trees, that had been standing amid the ruins for unnumberedcenturies, loomed
up into the moonshine, hundreds of feet above me, andcast their deep black shadows upon the pale marbles, on whose fragmentsI was reposing.

  All at once, I perceived that my hand and arm were in rapid motion. Itrested on the elbow as a fulcrum, and swayed back and forth, round andround, with great ease and celerity. Perfectly satisfied that it movedwithout any effort of my own will, I was greatly puzzled to arrive atany satisfactory solution of the phenomenon. The idea crossed my mindthat the effect was of _spiritual_ origin, and that I had becomeself-magnetized. I had read and believed that the two sides of the humanframe are differently electrified, and the curious phases of the diseasecalled _paralysis_ sufficiently established the dogma, that one half thebody may die, and yet the other half live on. I had many timesexperimented on the human hand, and the philosophical fact had long beendemonstrated, to my own satisfaction, that the inside of the hand istotally different from the outside. If we desire to ascertain thetemperature of any object, we instinctively touch it with the inside ofthe fingers; on the contrary, if we desire to ascertain our owntemperature, we do so by laying the back of the hand upon some isolatedand indifferent object. Convinced, therefore, that the right and leftsides of the human body are differently magnetized, I was not long infinding a solution of the peculiar phenomenon, which at firstastonished me so greatly. In fact, my body had become an electricalmachine, and by bringing the two poles into contact, as was affected bylinking my right and left sides together, by means of my left hand, abattery had been formed, and the result was, the paralysis ormagnetization of my right arm and hand, such being precisely the effectcaused by a _spiritual circle_,--as it has been denominated. My arm andhand represented, in all respects, a table duly charged, and the samephenomenon could be produced, if I was right in my conjectures.

  Immediately, therefore, I set about testing the truth of thishypothesis. I asked, half aloud, if there were any spirits present. Myhand instantly closed, except the forefinger, and gave three distinctivejerks that almost elevated my elbow from its position. A negative replywas soon given to a subsequent question by a single jerk of the hand;and thus I was enabled to hold a conversation in monosyllables with myinvisible companions.

  It is unnecessary to detail the whole of the interview which followed. Iwill only add that portion of it which is intimately connected with thisnarrative. Strange as it may appear, I had until this moment forgottenall about the beautiful apparition that appeared and disappeared somysteriously at _Castillo Viejo_. All at once, however, the recollectionrevived, and I remembered the promise contained in the single word shemurmured, "Palenque!"

  Overmastering my excitement, I whispered:

  "Beautiful spirit, that once met me on the ramparts where Lord Nelsonfought and conquered, art thou here?"

  An affirmative reply.

  "Will you appear and redeem your promise?"

  Suddenly, the branches of the neighboring trees waved and nodded; thecold marbles about me seemed animated with life, and crashed and struckeach other with great violence; the old pyramid trembled to its centre,as if shaken by an earthquake; and the forest around moaned as though atempest was sweeping by. At the same instant, full in the brightmoonlight, and standing within three paces of my feet, appeared theAztec Princess, whose waving _panache_, flowing garments and benignantcountenance had bewildered me many months before, on the moss-grownparapet of _Castillo Viejo_.

  CHAPTER IV.

  "Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth Unseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep."

  --PARADISE LOST.

  Was I dreaming, or was the vision real, that my eyes beheld? This wasthe first calm thought that coursed through my brain, after the terrorand amazement had subsided. Awe-struck I certainly was, when thebeautiful phantom first rose upon my sight, at Castillo; awe-struck oncemore, when she again appeared, amid the gray old rains of _Casa Grande_.I have listened very often to the surmises of others, as they detailedwhat _they_ would do, were a supernatural being to rise up suddenlybefore them. Some have said, they would gaze deliberately into the faceof the phantom, scan its every feature, and coolly note down, for thebenefit of others, how long it "walked," and in what manner it fadedfrom the sight. The nerves of these very men trembled while they spoke,and had an apparition burst at that instant into full view, these heroesin imagination would have crouched and hid their faces, their teethchattering with terror, and their hearts beating their swelling sides,as audibly as the convict hears his own when the hangman draws the blackcap over his unrepentant head.

  I blame no man for yielding to the dictates of Nature. He is but a foolwho feels no fear, and hears not a warning in the wind, observes not asign in the heavens, and perceives no admonition in the air, whenhurricanes are brooding, clouds are gathering, or earthquakes mutteringin his ears. The sane mind listens, and thwarts danger by itsapprehensions.

  The true hero is not the man who knows no fear--for that wereidiotic--but he who sees it, and escapes it, or meets it bravely. Was itcourage in the elder Pliny to venture so closely to the crater ofVesuvius, whilst in eruption, that he lost his life? How can man makewar with the elements, or battle with his God?

  There is, in the secret chambers of every human heart, one dark weirdcell, over whose portal is inscribed--MYSTERY. There Superstition sitsupon her throne; there Idolatry shapes her monsters, and there Religionreveals her glories. Within that cell, the soul communes with itselfmost intimately, confesses its midnight cowardice, and in low whispersmutters its dread of the supernatural.

  All races, all nations, and all times have felt its influences, oozinglike imperceptible dews from the mouth of that dark cavern.

  Vishnu heard its deep mutterings in the morning of our race, and theystill sound hollow but indistinct, like clods upon a coffin-lid, alongthe wave of each generation, as it rises and rolls into the past. Platoand Numa and Cicero and Brutus listened to its prophetic cadences, asthey fell upon their ears. Mohammed heard them in his cave, SamuelJohnson in his bed. Poets have caught them in the

  "Shivering whisper of startled leaves,"

  martyrs in the crackling faggots, heroes amid the din of battle.

  If you ask, what means this voice? I reply,

  "A solemn murmur in the soul _Tells of the world to be_, As travelers hear the billows roll Before they reach the sea."

  Let no man, therefore, boast that he has no dread of the supernatural.When mortal can look spirit in the face, without blanching, man will beimmortal.

  # # # # #

  To convince myself that I did not dream, I rose upon my elbow, andreclined for a moment in that attitude. Gradually I gained my feet, andthen stood confronting the Aztec maiden. The midnight breeze of thetropics had set in, and by the clear moonlight I distinctly saw the_panache_ of feathers that she wore upon her head swaying gracefullyupon the air.

  Convinced now, beyond all doubt, that the scene was real, the rulingdesire of my life came back in full force upon me, and I spoke, in ahoarse whisper, the following words:

  "Here lies a buried realm; I would be its historian!"

  The apparition, without any reply in words, glided toward me, andapproached so close that I could easily have touched her had I dared.But a sense of propriety subdued all unhallowed curiosity, and Idetermined to submit passively to all that my new friend should do. Thisstate of mind seemed at once known to her, for she smiled approvingly,and came still nearer to where I stood.

  Elevating her beautiful arm, she passed it gently over my face, her handjust touching my features, and imparting a cool sensation to my skin. Idistinctly remember that the hand felt damp. No sooner was this donethan my nervous system seemed to be restored to its usual tone, andevery sensation of alarm vanished.

  My brain began to feel light and swimmy, and my whole frame appeared tobe losing its weight. This peculiar sensation gradually increased inintensity until full conviction flashed upon me that I could, by an
effort of will, rise into the air, and fly with all the ease andrapidity of an eagle.

  The idea was no sooner fully conceived, than I noticed a wavy, unsteadymotion in the figure of the Aztec Princess, and almost immediatelyafterwards, I perceived that she was gradually rising from the brokenpavement upon which she had been standing, and passing slowly upwardsthrough the branches of the overshadowing trees. What was mostremarkable, the relative distance between us did not seem to increase,and my amazement was inconceivable, when on casting my eyes toward myfeet, I perceived that I was elevated more than twenty yards from thepavement where I had slept.

  My ascent had been so gradual, that I was entirely unaware of moving,and now that I became sensible of it, the motion itself was stillimperceptible. Upward, still upward, I was carried, until the tallestlimbs of the loftiest trees had been left far below me. Still the ascentcontinued. A wide and beautiful panorama now opened before me. Above,all was flashing moonlight and starry radiance. The beams of the fullmoon grew more brilliant as we cleared the vapory atmosphere contiguousto the earth, until they shone with half the splendor of morn, andglanced upon the features of my companion with a mellow sheen, thatheightened a thousandfold her supermundane beauty. Below, the gray oldrelics of a once populous capital glimmered spectrally in the distance,looking like tombs, shrouded by a weeping forest; whilst one by one, themourners lost their individuality, and ere long presented but a darkmass of living green. After having risen several hundred feetperpendicularly, I was enabled to form an estimate of the extent of theforest, in the bosom of which sleep and moulder the monuments of theaboriginal Americans. There is no such forest existing elsewhere on thesurface of this great globe. It has no parallel in nature. The BlackForest of Germany, the Thuringian Forest of Saxony, the Cross Timbers ofTexas, the dense and inaccessible woods cloaking the headwaters of theAmazon and the La Plata, are mere parks in comparison. For miles andmiles, leagues and leagues, it stretched out--north, south, east andwest. It covers an area larger than the island of Great Britain; andthroughout this immense extent of country there is but one mountainchain, and but one river. The summits of this range have been but seldomseen by white men, and have never been scaled. The river drains thewhole territory, but loses itself in a terrific marsh before its tidereaches the Mexican gulf, toward which it runs. The current isexceedingly rapid; and, after passing for hundreds of miles under theland and under the sea, it unites its submarine torrent near the westend of Cuba, with that of the Orinoco and the Amazon, and thus formsthat great oceanic river called the Gulf Stream. Professor Maury wasright in his philosophic conjecture as to the origin of that mighty andresistless tide.

  Having attained a great height perpendicularly above the spot of ourdeparture, we suddenly dashed off with the speed of an expresslocomotive, toward the northeast.

  Whither we were hastening, I knew not; nor did I trouble my mind withany useless conjectures. I felt secure in the power of my companion, andsure of her protection. I knew that by some unaccountable process shehad neutralized the gravitating force of a material body, had elevatedme hundreds, perhaps thousands, of feet in the atmosphere, and by somemysterious charm was attracting me toward a distant bourne. Yearsbefore, whilst a medical student at the University of Louisiana, theprofessor of _materia medica_ had opened his course of lectures with aninquiry into the origin and essence of gravitation, and I had listenedrespectfully, but at that time doubtingly, to the theory he propounded.He stated that it was not unphilosophical to believe that the time wouldarrive when the gravitating power of dense bodies would be overcome, andballoons constructed to navigate the air with the same unerringcertainty that ships traversed the ocean.

  He declared that gravitation itself was not a _cause_ but an _effect_;that it might be produced by the rotation of the earth upon its axis, orby some undiscovered current of electricity, or by some recondite andhitherto undetected agent or force in nature. Magnetism he thought aspecies of electricity, and subsequent investigations have convinced methat _sympathy_ or _animal magnetism_ was akin to the same parent power.By means of this latter agent I had seen the human body rendered solight that two persons could raise it with a single finger properlyapplied. More than this, I had but recently witnessed at Castillo, deadmatter clothed with life and motion, and elevated several feet into theair without the aid of any human agency. This age I knew well to be anage of wonders. Nature was yielding up her secrets on every hand; theboundary between the natural and the spiritual had been broken down; newworlds were flashing upon the eyes of the followers of Galileo almostnightly from the ocean depths of space. Incalculable treasures had beendiscovered in the most distant ends of the earth, and I, unlettered hindthat I was, did not presume to limit the power of the great Creator, andbecause an act seemed impossible to my narrow vision, and within mylimited experience, to cry aloud, _imposture_, or to mutter sneeringly,_insanity_.

  Before proceeding farther with the thread of this narrative, theattention of the reader is solicited to the careful perusal of thefollowing extracts from Stephens's _Travels in Central America, Chiapasand Yucatan_, published at New York in 1841.

  But the Padre told us more; something that increased our excitement to the highest pitch. On the other side of the great traversing range of Cordilleras lies the district of Vera Paz, once called Tierra de Guerra, or land of war, from the warlike character of its aboriginal inhabitants. Three times the Spaniards were driven back in their attempt to conquer it.[A-133]

  The rest of the Tierra de Guerra never was conquered; and at this day the northeastern section bounded by the range of the Cordilleras and the State of Chiapa is occupied by Cadones, or unbaptized Indians, who live as their fathers did, acknowledging no submission to the Spaniards, and the government of Central America does not pretend to exercise any control over them. But the thing that roused us was the assertion by the Padre that four days on the road to Mexico, on the other side of the Great Sierra, was a LIVING CITY, large and populous, occupied by Indians, precisely in the same state as before the discovery of America. He had heard of it many years before, at the village of Chajal, and was told by the villagers that from the topmost ridge of the Sierra this city was distinctly visible. He was then young, and with much labor climbed to the naked summit of the Sierra, from which, at a height of ten or twelve thousand feet, he looked over an immense plain extending to Yucatan and the Gulf of Mexico, and saw at a great distance a large city, spread over a great space, and with turrets white and glittering in the sun. The traditionary account of the Indians of Chajal is, that no white man has ever reached the city; that the inhabitants speak the Maya language; are aware that a race of strangers has conquered the whole country around, and murder any white man who attempts to enter their territory. They have no coin or other circulating medium; no horses, cattle, mules, or other domestic animals, except fowls, and the cocks they keep under ground to prevent their crowing being heard.[B-134]

  [Footnote A-133: Page 193, Vol. 2.]

  [Footnote B-134: Ibid. Page 195.]

  Mr. Stephens then adds:

  One look at that city is worth ten years of an every-day life. If he is right, a place is left where Indians and an Indian city exist as Cortez and Alvarado found them. There are living men who can solve the mystery that hangs over the ruined cities of America; perhaps, who can go to Copan and Palenque and read the inscriptions on their monuments.

  * * * * *

  The moon, long past the meridian, was sinking slowly to her westerngoal, whilst the east was already beginning to blush and redden with thedawn. Before us rose high and clear three distinct mountain peaks,covered with a mantle of snow. I began to tremble with cold. But ourpace did not slacken, nor our altitude diminish. On the contrary, webegan to rise gradually, until we found ourselves nearly upon a levelwith the three peaks. Selecting an opening or gap betwixt the twowesternmost, we glided through like the wind. I shivered and my teeth
chattered as we skimmed along those everlasting snows. Here, thought I,the condor builds his nest in summer, and the avalanches find a home.The eagle's wing has not strength enough to battle with this thin andfreezing atmosphere, and no living thing but "the proud bird, the condorof the Andes," ever scaled these hoary summits. But our descent hadalready commenced. Gradually, as the morning broke, the region of iceand snow was left behind us, and just as the first ray of the rising sunshot over the peaks we had but a moment before surmounted, I beheld,glittering in the dim and shadowy distance, the white walls of amagnificent city. An exclamation of surprise and pleasure involuntarilyescaped my lips; but one glance at my companion checked all furtherutterance. She raised her rounded forefinger to her lip, and made agesture, whose purport I well understood.

  We swept over forests and cornfields and vineyards, the city growingupon the vision every moment, and rising like the Mexican capital, whenfirst beheld by Europeans from the bosom of a magnificent lake. Finally,we found ourselves immediately above it, and almost at the same moment,began to descend. In a few seconds I stood alone, in a large open space,surrounded upon all sides by lofty stone edifices, erected upon hugepyramidal structures, that resembled the forest-covered mounds atPalenque. The day had fully dawned, but I observed no inhabitants.Presently a single individual appeared upon one of the towers near me,and gave a loud, shrill whistle, such as we sometimes hear in crowdedtheatres. In an instant it was echoed and re-echoed a thousand times,upon every side, and immediately the immense city seemed to be awake, asif by magic. They poured by thousands into the open square, where Istood petrified with astonishment. Before me, like a vision ofmidnight, marched by, in almost countless throngs, battalion onbattalion of a race of men deemed and recorded extinct by the wisesthistorians.

  They presented the most picturesque appearance imaginable, dressedapparently in holiday attire, and keeping step to a low air, performedon instruments emitting a dull, confused sound, that seldom rose so asto be heard at any great distance.

  They continued promenading the square, until the first level ray ofsunshine fell upon the great Teocallis--as it was designated by theSpaniards--then with unanimous action they fell upon their faces,striking their foreheads three times upon the mosaic pavement. Just asthey rose to their feet, I observed four persons, most gorgeouslydressed, descending the steps of the Temple, bearing a palanquin, inwhich sat a single individual. My attention was at once arrested by herappearance, for she was a woman. She was arrayed in a _panache_, orhead-dress, made entirely of the plumage of the _Quezale_, the royalbird of Quiche. It was by far the most tasteful and becoming ornament tothe head I ever beheld, besides being the most magnificent. It isimpossible to describe the graceful movement of those waving plumes, asthey were stirred by the slightest inclination of the head, or thesoftest aspiration of the breeze. But the effect was greatly heightenedby the constant change of color which they underwent. Blue and crimson,and orange and gold, were so blended that the eye was equally dazzledand delighted. But the utmost astonishment pervaded me, when, uponclosely scrutinizing her features, I thought I recognized the beautifulface of the Aztec Princess. Little leisure, however, was afforded me forthis purpose, for no sooner had her subjects, the assembled thousands,bowed with deferential respect to their sovereign, than a company ofdrilled guards marched up to where I stood, and unresistingly made meprisoner.

  It is useless to attempt a full description of the imposing ceremony Ihad witnessed, or to portray the appearance of those who took the mostprominent parts. Their costume corresponded precisely with that of thefigures in _bas-relief_ on the sculptured monuments at Palenque. Eachwore a gorgeous head-dress, generally of feathers, carried an instrumentdecorated with ribbons, feathers and skins, which appeared to be awar-club, and wore huge sashes of yellow, green, or crimson cottoncloth, knotted before and behind, and falling in graceful folds almostto the ground.

  Hitherto not a word had been spoken. The ceremony I had witnessed was areligious one, and was at once interpreted by me to be the worship ofthe sun. I remembered well that the ancient Peruvians were heliolaters,and my imagination had been dazzled when but a child by the gorgeousdescription given by the historian Robertson, of the great Temple of theSun at Cuzco. There the Incas had worshiped the God of Day from theperiod when Manco Capac came from the distant Island of Oello, andtaught the native Indians the rudiments of civilization, until the lifeof the last scion of royal blood was sacrificed to the perfidy of theSpanish invaders. These historical facts had long been familiar to mymind; but I did not recollect any facts going to show that the ancientAztecs were likewise heliolaters; but further doubt was now impossible.

  In perfect silence I was hurried up the stone steps of the greatTeocallis, toward the palace erected upon its summit, into whose broadand lofty corridors we soon entered. These we traversed in severaldirections, leaving the more outward and gradually approaching theheart or central apartments.

  Finally, I was ushered into one of the most magnificently decoratedaudience-chambers that the eye of man ever beheld.

  We were surrounded by immense tablets of _bas-reliefs_ sculptured inwhite and black marble, and presenting, evidently, a connected historyof the ancient heroes of the race. Beside each tablet triple rows ofhieroglyphics were carved in the solid stone, unquestionably giving indetail the history of the hero or chief whose likeness stood near them.Many of these appeared to be females, but, judging from the sceptre eachcarried, I was persuaded that the old _Salique_ law of France and otherEuropean nations never was acknowledged by the aboriginal Americans.

  The roof was high, and decorated with the plumage of the Quezale andother tropical birds, whilst a throne was erected in the centre of theapartment, glittering in gold and silver ornaments, hung about withbeautiful shells, and lined with the skins of the native leopard,prepared in the most exquisite style.

  Seated upon a throne, I recognized the princess whose morning devotionsI had just witnessed. At a gesture, I was carried up close to the footof the throne.

  After closely inspecting her features, I satisfied myself that she wasnot the companion of my mysterious journey, being several years older inappearance, and of a darker complexion. Still, there was a very strikingresemblance between them, and it was evident that they not only belongedto the same race, but to the same family. I looked up at her with greatrespect, anticipating some encouraging word or sign. But instead ofspeaking, she commenced a low, melodious whistle, eying me intentlyduring the whole time. Ceasing, she evidently anticipated some reply onmy part, and I at once accosted her in the following terms:

  "Most beautiful Princess, I am not voluntarily an invader of your realm.I was transported hither in a manner as mysterious as it was unexpected.Teach me but to read these hieroglyphics, and I will quit yourterritories forever."

  A smile flitted across the features of the Princess as I uttered thesewords; and she gave an order, by a sharp whistle, to an officer thatstood near, who immediately disappeared. In a few moments, he returned,bringing with him a native dressed very coarsely in white cotton cloth,and who carried an empty jar, or water tank, upon his head. He wasevidently a laborer, and, judging from the low obeisances he constantlymade, much to the amusement of the courtiers standing around, I amsatisfied that he never before in his whole life had been admitted tothe presence of his sovereign.

  Making a gesture to the officer who had introduced him, he spoke a fewlow words to the native, who immediately turned toward me, and uttered,slowly and distinctly, the following sentence:

  "Ix-itl hua-atl zi-petl poppicobatl."

  I shook my head despairingly. Several other attempts to communicate withme were made, both by the Princess and the interpreter, but all to nopurpose. I could neither understand the melodies nor the jargon. But Inoticed throughout all these proceedings that there seemed to be twoentirely distinct modes of expression; the first by whistling, and thesecond by utterance. The idea at once flashed across my mind, that therewere two languages used in the country--one
sacred to the blood royaland the nobility, and the other used by the common people. Impressedwith this thought, I immediately set about verifying it by experiment.

  It is unnecessary to detail the ingenious methods I devised to ascertainthis fact. It is sufficient for the present purposes of this narrativeto state, that, during the day, I was abundantly satisfied with thetruth of my surmise; and that, before night, I learned another fact,equally important, that the hieroglyphics were written in the royaltongue, and could be read only by those connected by ties of blood withthe reigning family.

  There was at first something ludicrous in the idea of communicatingthought by sound emitted in the way indicated above. In my wildestdreams, the notion of such a thing being possible had never occurred tomy imagination. And when the naked fact was now demonstrated to me everymoment, I could scarcely credit my senses. Still, when I reflected thatnight upon it, after I retired to rest, the system did not appearunnatural, nor even improbable. Birds, I knew, made use of the samemusical tongue; and when but a boy, on the shores of the distantAlbemarle, I had often listened, till long after midnight, to thewonderful loquacity of the common mocking-bird, as she poured forth hersummer strains. Who has not heard the turtle dove wooing her mate intones that were only not human, because they were more sadly beautiful?Many a belated traveler has placed his hand upon his sword-hilt, andlooked suspiciously behind him, as the deep bass note of the owl hasstartled the dewy air. The cock's crow has become a synonym for a paeanof triumph.

  Remembering all those varieties in sound that the air is capable of,when _cut_, as it were, by whistling, I no longer doubted that alanguage could easily be constructed by analyzing the several tones andgiving value to their different modulations.

  The ludicrousness of the idea soon gave place to admiration, and beforeI had been domiciliated in the palace of the Princess a month, I hadbecome perfectly infatuated with her native language, and regarded it asthe most beautiful and expressive ever spoken by man. And now, afterseveral years have elapsed since its melodious accents have fallen uponmy ears, I hesitate not to assert that for richness and variety of tone,for force and depth of expression, for harmony and sweetness--in short,for all those characteristics that give beauty and strength to spokenthought--the royal tongue of the aboriginal Americans is without arival.

  For many days after my mysterious appearance in the midst of the greatcity I have described, my fate still hung in the balance. I was examinedand re-examined a hundred times as to the mode of my entrance into thevalley; but I always persisted in making the same gestures, and pointedto the sky as the region whence I had descended. The guards stationed atevery avenue of entrance and exit were summoned to the capital, andquestioned closely as to the probability of my having passed themunawares; but they fully exculpated themselves from all blame, and wererestored to their forfeited posts.

  Gradually the excitement in the city subsided, and one by one the greatnobles were won over to credit the story of my celestial arrival intheir midst, and I believed the great object of my existence in a fairway to be accomplished.

  Every facility was afforded me to learn the royal tongue, and after alittle more than a year's residence in the palace, I spoke it withconsiderable fluency and accuracy.

  But all my efforts hitherto were vain to obtain a key to thehieroglyphics. Not only was the offense capital to teach their alphabetto a stranger, but equally so to natives themselves, unconnected withthe blood royal. With all my ingenuity and industry, I had not advanceda single letter.

  One night, as I lay tossing restlessly upon my bed, revolving thisinsoluble enigma in my mind, one of the mosaic paving-stones wassuddenly lifted up in the middle of the room, and the figure of a youngman with a lighted taper in his hand stood before me.

  Raising my head hastily from the pillow, I almost sank back withastonishment when I recognized in the form and features of my midnightvisitor, Pio the Carib boy.

  CHAPTER V.

  "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy."

  --SHAKSPEARE.

  I sprang to my feet with all the eagerness of joy, and was about to rushinto the arms of Pio, when he suddenly checked my enthusiasm byextinguishing the light. I stood still and erect, like one petrifiedinto stone. That moment I felt a hand upon my arm, then around my waist,and ere I could collect my thoughts, was distinctly lifted from theground. But I was carried only a few steps. On touching the floor withmy feet, I was planted firmly, and the arms of my companion were tightlydrawn around my own so as to prevent me from raising them. The nextinstant, and the stone upon which we stood suddenly slid from itsposition, and gradually sank perpendicularly,--we still retaining ourposition upon it.

  Our descent was not rapid, nor did I deem it very secure; for thetrap-door trembled under us, and more than once seemed to touch theshaft into which we were descending. A few moments more and we landedsecurely upon a solid pavement. My companion then disengaged his hold,and stepping off a few paces, pronounced the words "_We are here_!" inthe royal tongue, and immediately a panel slid from the side of theapartment, and a long passage-way, lighted at the further end by asingle candle, displayed itself to view. Into that passage we at onceentered, and without exchanging a single word, walked rapidly toward thelight.

  The light stood upon a stone stand about four feet high, at theintersection of these passages. We took the one to the left, andadvanced twenty or thirty yards, when Pio halted. On coming up to him,he placed his mouth close to the wall, and exclaimed as before. "We arehere." A huge block of granite swung inward, and we entered a small butwell-lighted apartment, around which were hanging several costly andmagnificent suits of Palenquin costume.

  Hastily seizing two of them, Pio commenced arraying himself in one, andrequested me by a gesture to don the other. With a little assistance, Isoon found myself decked from head to foot in a complete suit of regalrobes--_panache_, sash, and sandals inclusive.

  When all was completed, Pio, for the first time, addressed me asfollows: "Young stranger, whoever you may be, or to whatever nation youmay belong, matters but little to me. The attendant guardian spirit ofour race and country has conducted you hither, in the most mysteriousmanner, and now commands me to have you instructed in the most sacredlore of the Aztecs. Your long residence in this palace has fullyconvinced you of the danger to which we are both exposed; I inrevealing and you in acquiring the key to the interpretation of thehistorical records of my country. I need not assure you that our livesare both forfeited, should the slightest suspicion be aroused in thebreasts of the Princess or the nobility.

  "You are now dressed in the appropriate costume of a student of ourliterature, and must attend me nightly at the gathering of the Queen'skindred to be instructed in the art. Express no surprise at anything yousee or hear; keep your face concealed as much as possible, fear nothing,and follow me."

  At a preconcerted signal given by Pio, a door flew open and we enteredthe vestibule of a large and brilliantly illuminated chamber.

  As soon as we passed the entrance I saw before me not less than twohundred young persons of both sexes, habited in the peculiar garb ofstudents, like our own. We advanced slowly and noiselessly, until wereached two vacant places, prepared evidently beforehand for us. Ourentrance was not noticed by the classes, nor by those whom I afterwardsrecognized as teachers. All seemed intent upon the problem before them,and evinced no curiosity to observe the new comers. My own curiosity atthis moment was intense, and had it not been for the prudent cautionsconstantly given me by Pio, by touching my robes or my feet, an exposuremost probably would have occurred the first night of my initiation, andthe narrative of these adventures never been written.

  My presence of mind, however, soon came to my assistance, and before theevening was over, I had, by shrewdly noticing the conduct of others,shaped my own into perfect conformity with theirs, and rendereddetection next to impossible.

  It now bec
omes necessary to digress a moment from the thread of mystory, and give an accurate description of the persons I beheld aroundme, the chamber in which we were gathered, and the peculiar mode ofinstruction pursued by the sages.

  The scholars were mostly young men and women, averaging in age abouttwenty years. They all wore the emblem of royalty, which I at oncerecognized in the _panache_ of Quezale plumes that graced their heads.They stood in semi-circular rows, the platform rising as they recededfrom the staging in front, like seats in an amphitheatre. Upon the stagewere seated five individuals--two of the male, and three of the femalesex. An old man was standing up, near the edge of the stage, holding inhis hands two very cunningly-constructed instruments. At the back of thestage, a very large, smooth tablet of black marble was inserted in thewall, and a royal personage stood near it, upon one side, with a commonpiece of chalk in his right hand, and a cotton napkin in the left. Thisreminded me but too truthfully of the fourth book of Euclid and NassauHall; and I was again reminded of the great mathematician before theassembly broke up, and of his reply to that King of Sicily, who inquiredif there were no easy way of acquiring mathematics. "None, yourHighness," replied the philosopher; "there is no royal road tolearning." Labor, I soon found, was the only price, even amongst theAztecs, at which knowledge could be bought. Each student was furnishedwith the same species of instruments which the old man before-mentionedheld in his hands.

  The one held in the left hand resembled a white porcelain slate, onlybeing much larger than those in common use. It was nearly twenty inchessquare, and was divided by mathematical lines into thirty-sixcompartments. It was covered over with a thin crystal, resembling glass,which is found in great quantities in the neighboring mountains, and isperfectly transparent. The crystal was raised about the one eighth of aninch from the surface of the slate, and allowed a very fine species ofblack sand to move at will between them. The instrument carried in theright hand resembled the bow of a common violin, more than anythingelse. The outer edge was constructed of a beautiful yellow wood,polished, and bent into the arc of a quarter circle; whilst a mass ofsmall cords, made of the native hemp, united the two ends.

  The method of using the bow was this: The slate was shaken violentlyonce or twice, so as to distribute the black sand equally over the whitesurface, and then the bow was drawn perpendicularly down the edge of theslate, very rapidly, so as to produce a quick whistling sound. Theeffect produced upon the grains of sand was truly wonderful to theuninitiated in the laws of acoustics. They arranged themselves intopeculiar figures, sometimes in the form of a semicircle, sometimes intothat of a spiral, sometimes into a perfect circle, or a cone, or arhomboid, or an oval, dependent entirely upon two things: first, theplace where the slate was held by the left hand; and second, the pointwhere the bow was drawn across the edge. As the slate was subdividedinto thirty-six compartments, by either one of which it could be held,and as there was a corresponding point, across which the bow could bedrawn, there were seventy-two primitive sounds that might be produced bymeans of this simple contrivance. Each of these sounds inherently andnecessarily produced a different figure upon the slate, and there wereconsequently just seventy-two initial letters in the Aztec alphabet.

  The mode of instruction was extremely simple. A word was pronounced bythe aged teacher at the front of the stage, written upon his slate,exhibited to the scholar at the black tablet, and by him copied upon it.The whole class then drew down their bows, so as to produce the propersound, and the word itself, or its initial letter, was immediatelyformed upon the slate.

  After the seventy-two primitive letters or sounds had been learned, thenext step was the art of combining them, so as not only to producesingle words, but very often whole sentences. Thus the firsthieroglyphic carved upon the tablet, on the back wall of the altar, inCasa No. 3 (forming the frontispiece of the second volume of Stephens'sTravels in Central America), expresses, within itself, the name, date ofbirth, place of nativity, and parentage, of _Xixencotl_, the first kingof the twenty-third dynasty of the Aztecs.

  The hieroglyphics of the Aztecs are all of them both symbolical andphonetic. Hence, in almost every one we observe, first, the primitivesound or initial letter, and its various combinations; and, secondly,some symbolic drawing, as a human face, for instance, or an eagle'sbill, or a fish, denoting some peculiar characteristic of the person orthing delineated.

  But to return to the Hall of Students. The men and women on the stagewere placed there as critics upon the pronunciation of each articulatesound. They were selected from the wisest men and best elocutionists inthe kingdom, and never failed to detect the slightest error in thepronunciation of the tutor.

  The royal tongue of the Aztecs is the only one now in existence that isbased upon natural philosophy and the laws of sound. It appeals both tothe eye and ear of the speaker, and thus the nicest shades of thoughtmay be clearly expressed. There is no such thing as _stilted_ languageamongst them, and logomachy is unknown.

  And here I may be permitted to observe that a wider field for researchand discovery lies open in the domain of _sound_ than in any otherregion of science. The laws of harmony, even, are but imperfectlyunderstood, and the most accomplished musicians are mere tyros in thegreat science of acoustics. There is every reason to believe that thereis an intimate but yet undiscovered link between _number_, _light_, and_sound_ whose solution will astonish and enlighten the generations thatare to succeed our own. _When God spake the worlds into being, theglobular form they assumed was not accidental, nor arbitrary, butdepended essentially upon the tone of the great Architect, and themedium in which it resounded._

  Let the natural philosophers of the rising generation direct theirespecial attention toward the fields I have indicated, and the rewardsawaiting their investigations will confer upon them immortality of fame.

  There is a reason why the musical scale should not mount in whole tonesup to the octave; why the mind grasps decimals easier than vulgarfractions, and why, by the laws of light, the blood-red tint should beheavier than the violet. Let Nature, in these departments, be studiedwith the same care that Cuvier explored the organization of insects,that Liebig deduced the property of acids, and that Leverrier computedthe orbit of that unseen world which his genius has half created, andall the wonderful and beautiful secrets now on the eve of bursting intobeing from the dark domain of sound, color, and shape, will at oncemarch forth into view, and take their destined places in the ranks ofhuman knowledge.

  Then the science of computation will be intuitive, as it was in the mindof Zerah Colburn; the art of music creative, as in the plastic voices ofJehovah; and the great principles of light and shape and color divine,as in the genius of Swedenborg and the imagination of Milton.

  I have now completed the outline of the sketch, which in the foregoingpages I proposed to lay before the world.

  The peculiar circumstances which led me to explore the remains of theaboriginal Americans, the adventures attending me in carrying out thatdesign, the mode of my introduction into the Living City, spoken of byStephens, and believed in by so many thousands of enlightened men, andabove all, the wonderful and almost incredible character of the people Ithere encountered, together with a rapid review of their language andliterature, have been briefly but faithfully presented to the public.

  It but remains for me now to present my readers with a few specimens ofAztec literature, translated from the hieroglyphics now mouldering amidthe forests of Chiapa; to narrate the history of my escape from theLiving City of the aborigines; to bespeak a friendly word for theforthcoming history of one of the earliest, most beautiful, andunfortunate of the Aztec queens, copied _verbatim_ from the annals ofher race, and to bid them one and all, for the present, a respectfuladieu.

  Before copying from the blurred and water-soaked manuscript before me, asingle extract from the literary remains of the monumental race amongstwhom I have spent three years and a half of my early manhood, it may notbe deemed improper to remark that a large work upon this subject is no
win course of publication, containing the minutest details of thedomestic life, public institutions, language, and laws of thatinteresting people.

  The extracts I present to the reader may be relied upon as exactlycorrect, since they are taken from the memoranda made upon the spot.

  Directly in front of the throne, in the great audience-chamber describedin the preceding chapter, and written in the most beautiful hieroglyphicextant, I found the following account of the origin of the land:

  The Great Spirit, whose emblem is the sun, held the water-drops out of which the world was made, in the hollow of his hand. He breathed a tone, and they rounded into the great globe, and started forth on the errand of counting up the years.

  Nothing existed but water and the great fishes of the sea. One eternity passed. The Great Spirit sent a solid star, round and beautiful, but dead and no longer burning, and plunged it into the depths of the oceans. Then the winds were born, and the rains began to fall. The animals next sprang into existence. They came up from the star-dust like wheat and maize. The round star floated upon the waters, and became the dry land; and the land was high, and its edges steep. It was circular, like a plate, and all connected together.

  The marriage of the land and the sea produced man, but his spirit came from the beams of the sun.

  Another eternity passed away, and the earth became too full of people. They were all white, because the star fell into the cold seas, and the sun could not darken their complexions.

  Then the sea bubbled up in the middle of the land, and the country of the Aztecs floated off to the west. Wherever the star cracked open, there the waters rose up and made the deep sea.

  When the east and the west come together again, they will fit like a garment that has been torn.

  Then followed a rough outline of the western coasts of Europe andAfrica, and directly opposite the coasts of North and South America.The projections of the one exactly fitted the indentations of the other,and gave a semblance of truth and reality to the wild dream of the Aztecphilosopher. Let the geographer compare them, and he will be moredisposed to wonder than to sneer.

  I have not space enough left me to quote any further from the monumentalinscriptions, but if the reader be curious upon this subject, Irecommend to his attention the publication soon to come out, alluded toabove.

  # # # # #

  Some unusual event certainly had occurred in the city. The great plazain front of the palace was thronged with a countless multitude of menand women, all clamoring for a sacrifice! a sacrifice!

  Whilst wondering what could be the cause of this commotion, I wassuddenly summoned before the Princess in the audience-chamber, so oftenalluded to before.

  My surprise was great when, upon presenting myself before her, I beheld,pinioned to a heavy log of mahogany, a young man, evidently of Europeandescent.

  The Princess requested me to interpret for her to the stranger, and thefollowing colloquy took place. The conversation was in the Frenchlanguage.

  Q. "Who are you, and why do you invade my dominions?"

  A. "My name is Armand de L'Oreille. I am a Frenchman by birth. I wassent out by Lamartine, in 1848, as attache to the expedition of M. deBourbourg, whose duties were to explore the forests in the neighborhoodof Palenque, to collate the language of the Central-American Indians, tocopy the inscriptions on the monuments, and, if possible, to reach theLIVING CITY mentioned by Waldeck, Dupaix, and the American travelerStephens."

  Q. "But why are you alone? Where is the party to which you belonged?"

  A. "Most of them returned to Palenque, after wandering in the wildernessa few days. Five only determined to proceed; of that number I am theonly survivor."

  Here the interview closed.

  The council and the queen were not long in determining the fate of M. deL'Oreille. It was unanimously resolved that he should surrender his lifeas a forfeit to his temerity.

  The next morning, at sunrise, was fixed for his death. He was to besacrificed upon the altar, on the summit of the great Teocallis--anoffering to _Quetzalcohuatl_, the first great prince of the Aztecs. I atonce determined to save the life of the stranger, if I could do so, evenat the hazard of my own. But fate ordained it otherwise. I retiredearlier than usual, and lay silent and moody, revolving on the bestmeans to accomplish my end.

  Midnight at length arrived; I crept stealthily from my bed, and openedthe door of my chamber, as lightly as sleep creeps over the eyelids ofchildren. But----

  [Here the MS. is so blotted, and saturated with saltwater, as to beillegible for several pages. The next legible sentences are asfollows.--ED.]

  Here, for the first time, the woods looked familiar to me. Proceeding afew steps, I fell into the trail leading toward the modern village ofPalenque, and, after an hour's walk, I halted in front of the _cabilda_of the town.

  I was followed by a motley crowd to the office of the Alcalde, who didnot recognize me, dressed as I was in skins, and half loaded down withrolls of MS., made from the bark of the mulberry. I related to him andM. de Bourbourg my adventures; and though the latter declared he hadlost poor Armand and his five companions, yet I am persuaded thatneither of them credited a single word of my story.

  Not many days after my safe arrival at Palenque, I seized a favorableopportunity to visit the ruins of _Casa Grande_. I readily found theopening to the subterranean passage heretofore described, and after sometroublesome delays at the various landing-places, I finally succeeded inreaching the very spot whence I had ascended on that eventful night,nearly three years before, in company with the Aztec Princess.

  After exploring many of the mouldering and half-ruined apartments ofthis immense palace, I accidentally entered a small room, that at firstseemed to have been a place of sacrifice; but, upon closer inspection, Iascertained that, like many of those in the "Living City," it was achapel dedicated to the memory of some one of the princes of the Aztecrace.

  In order to interpret the inscriptions with greater facility, I lit sixor seven candles, and placed them in the best positions to illuminatethe hieroglyphics. Then turning, to take a view of the grand tablet inthe middle of the inscription, my astonishment was indescribable, when Ibeheld the exact features, dress and _panache_ of the Aztec maiden,carved in the everlasting marble before me.