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 166 Sunday, 18th. I was asleep last night in five minutes, nor did I awake until aroused at 5 o'clock by the loud pattering of the rain against the shutters. Cold, gray, cheerlessly, the day broke; and as cold and cheerlessly did we assemble in the kitchen to take our chocolate. A council was held as to proceeding or waiting for better weather. I adhered to my theory, that the rain was confined to the Valley of Mexico; and that when we had passed the mountains in this day's journey, we would find it dry and pleasant travelling in the warmer and lower country. At any rate there was something consolatory in the hope. The horses were accordingly ordered, the damp dresses packed, our serapes wrung out, and the mules freighted for the day.

As the bells were ringing for mass, and the villagers hurrying through the streets to church, we sallied forth, every man trying to discover the symptom, even, of a break among the dreary brownish clouds that hung low from the mountain-tops to the valley. As soon as the road leaves the town of St. Augustin, it strikes directly up the mountain, and runs over crags and ravines which in our country would startle the delicate nerves of a lady. Railroads and McAdam have spoiled us; but here, where the toilsome mule and the universal horse have converted men almost into centaurs and are the traditionary means of communication, no one thinks of improving the highways. But, of late years, diligences are getting into vogue between the chief cities of the Republic; and one, built in Troy, has been started on this very road. How it gets along over such ruts and drains, rocks and mountain-passes, it is difficult to imagine!

On we went, however, over hill and dale, the misty rain still drifting around us, and becoming finer and mistier as we rose on the mountain. The prospect was dreary enough, but in fine weather, these passes are said to present a series of beautiful landscapes. In front is then beheld the wild mountain scenery, while, to the north, the valley sinks gradually into the plain, mellowed by distance, and traversed by the lakes of Chalco and Tezcoco. Of the former of these we had a distinct view as the wind drifted the mist aside for a moment, when we had nearly attained the summit of the mountain. Here we passed a gang of laborers impressed for the army, and going, tied in pairs, under an escort of soldiers, to serve in the Capital. This was recruiting! Further on, we passed the body of a man lying on the side-path. He had evidently just died, and, perhaps, had been one of the party we had encountered. No one noticed him; his hat was spread over his face, and the rain was pelting on him. We saw no habitations—no symptoms of cultivation; in fact, nothing except rocks and stunted herbage, and now and then, a muleteer, a miserable Indian plodding with a pannier of fruit to Mexico, or an Indian shepherd-boy, in his long thatch-cloak of water-flags, perched on a crag and watching his miserable cattle. We were then travelling among the clouds, near 9000 feet above the level of the sea.