and prickly cactus hedge the roadways. There is a barbaric richness of ornamentation about the façade of the principal church, carved in solid stone by native artists from native designs; but it loses somewhat, upon closer inspection, from its crude conception of art. It is, however, greatly superior to the more tawdry and more insincere
decoration of machine-turned woods, to which we are unfortunately too well used in church architecture at home. From the flat roof, a beautiful prospect opens on all sides. A fine row of gray stone arches marks the path of the aqueduct built more than two hundred years ago to convey water from the mountains beyond. A bird's-eye view into the inner portion of the adobe houses near gave an added touch of strange interest to the scenes. A courtyard almost immediately below had a tiled floor, surrounding a garden bright with peach-bloom and century plants. Two shaggy burros and a group of picturesque children played in and out among the heavy stone arches of the open gallery leading to the rooms of the house, which were lightened by vivid frescos of brilliant white and blue. One or two shadowy forms lounged against the pillars of the wall; a woman's voice came singing from the rooms beyond; and a flock of gray doves rose and fell like a soft cloud above the flat roof. Outside, down the long cottonwood-fringed street, three horsemen, one all in white, one draped in deep red, and a third with flying parti-colored sashes, shone like blotches of color against the pale sky.
On the route between Chihuahua and the Plains of Zacatecas, the beautiful mountains continue, now nearing and now departing from the table-like valley between. An entire tract of country at one place is covered thickly with pale purple blossoms exhaling a faint, sweet odor. The great haciendas, lying near the route, have portions of their ranches near the line. It may not be understood, so it is well to explain here, that a hacienda is the large estate of which numerous ranches form part. The owner is supposed to exercise a kindly care over all his assistants and dependants; churches and schools are provided within the limits; in many cases a hospital is conducted for the health and comfort of the laborers, and a somewhat patriarchal system obtains. The peon, or laborer, cannot leave one hacienda for another without the consent of his master, and the pledging of some portion — usually a quarter — of his wages, until his obligation is paid. It is a remnant of an old system of bondage, and will probably give way to progress and time. Some of these haciendas are of immense size; one was pointed out enclosing two hundred and forty square miles.
Across the low, green, rolling foothills the mountains still keep their dusky heights stained with mineral dyes; mines rich in copper, iron, and silver honeycomb the entire country; fine, fertile valleys fill every atom of space that has the blessed luxury of water; and even this is being brought extensively at present, through the medium of artesian wells and springs, from the hills. When one remembers the ditches and flumes extending thirty and forty miles in the California districts, it seems an easy matter to convey it here, from so much nearer sources.
At one or two points, the train stopped to let us load the cars with flowers. A tall cluster of bare rods, each tipped with a vivid scarlet blossom, fine white and purple bells that were found at the root of mesquite bushes, bright little yellow cups like small jasmine buds, and quantities of delicate green soon made our rooms like a travelling greenhouse, and we revelled in bloom and insects until we tired of both. Soon after leaving San Juan de Gaudeloupe, flat, table-topped mountains began to make a change in the landscape. They looked not unlike the old Aztec Teocalli, and might, perhaps, have served the sun worshippers with the idea of their temples. Lofty, terraced sides and level summits extended far enough to allow room for the imposing ceremonial of their worship.
Sometimes for hours, fields green with springing corn, or the soft verdure of young wheat, lined each side of the road; sometimes a herd of sheep gathered about the rare water-courses, or were grouped under great roofs of thatch, held up by forked poles without any side coverings.
Nine miles below the city of Zacatecas, the railroad begins to rise, by a triumph of magnificent engineering, up a grade of one hundred and seventy-five feet to the mile, making on the passage some of the most abrupt curves conceivable. It recalled the old Colorado cañons, only that here we went around the hillside instead of plunging over precipices and bridging gorges with trestles. The powerful engine panted like some hard-pressed animal, and the train of heavy cars dragged wearily up after it. We forgot fatigue, forgot fear, forgot — what is harder to forget than either — supper, and crowded the narrow platforms with an excitement almost painful. At last, with one mighty, final effort, we turned the last sharp mountain spur, and with the Büfa rising high on the left, its enormous crest of rock above like the dorsal fin of some fossil monster, with a glow of red gold over all the western sky, and the evening star shining palely in the east, we rested on the crest of the hill above the dark, little, sleeping town, with only three faint points of light to indicate its location or give any sign of life.
When we passed next morning down the steep slope into the city, a long line of convicts, under direction of an armed guard, were carrying earth upon their backs, in bags, up the side of a long embankment, and into a fortified place above, which was being repaired. Grouped about, and giving the grave attention of idle people to each detail, were a number of Mexican men, women, and children, picturesque in rags and brilliant scarfs. In recognition of a bow in passing, the convicts lifted their hats and showed so many sets of white teeth and gleaming eyes; such a careless, easy-going set of criminals it would be hard to find elsewhere.
The narrow streets were well paved, wonderfully clean, and furnished on one side with raised pavements; open archways looked into little
courtyards glowing with sunshine and flowers; cobblers, tinkers, tailors, and jewellers sat at work on raised stone platforms outside their houses; and in the central one of the many market-places, around the great circular stone fountain, a mass of women, girls, and boys dipped the water into great red earthen jars, in little gourd-shaped cups with handles like ladles. Of all the many strange sights so far met, this was by far the strangest. Each one, as her laborious work ended, lifted herself for a moment to straighten the cramped muscles, and then with marvellous ease, for what must have been a real effort of strength, swung the tall jar to its place on the left shoulder, held it in position with the bare right arm, and walked off with as much ease as a ball-room belle in the mazes of a country dance. The clamor, the crowd, the utter absorption of each one in her own work, and the strange impression of life it left upon us, it was impossible to describe. Whether the knot of lounging youths was made up of so many Jacobs waiting for these Rachels at the well, was another question. They showed the true Eastern imperturbability, while the women did the work.
Down a steep side street — every street climbs up or runs down a hill — to the beautiful old church with its monstrous façade of carved freestone and three unique spires, and the covered market with its double rows of open Moorish arches, we passed with new delight at every step. Every thing is glowing with color — the sky deep as Italy, the frescos, the flowers, the fine ash trees, the brightly dressed people, the broad white stone seats. The inner court of the governor's palace — patio is a prettier word, so we will use it hereafter — was finished with dado and frieze of blue and yellow; the slender pillars, rising in a double flight of columns between the arches of the first and second floors, were gay with stencilled wreaths of bright flowers; the broad gray stone steps, curving in wide sweeps to the upper galleries, were dressed with fanciful large pots full of tropical plants. From a corner of one of these shaded upper galleries, a most beautiful picture was made by the three red sandstone towers of the cathedral, — one with the round, flat dome of the mosque, one a slender campanile, and one a solid square, but each a mass of most wonderful stone carving, almost barbaric in splendor, and still kept within the bounds of harmony. Against the glowing depth of sapphire sky, it was superb.
In and out, up and down, there was no end of novelty. One market-place was devoted entirely to the coarse potteries of the place, — jars for water and cooking, table articles
