On the 20th of December, our party re-enforced by a number of friends from the capital, started in carriages for Cholula, to visit the pyramid of which nearly every school-boy has seen a picture in his geography. A ride of two leagues over a rough and dusty road, through an open country, brought us to the ancient city, said to have once contained four hundred thousand people. It is situated in an open plain, with the grand circle of great mountains, Popocatapetl, El Muger en Blanco, Malinchi, Orizaba and the lesser peaks in the distance. It must have suffered fearfully from the Spanish conquerors, and has been steadily declining in importance to the present day, being now but a mere fragment of its former self.
The people are nearly all of unmixed Indian blood, hardy, industrious, and peculiarly respectful and well-behaved. They cultivate a wide area of fertile valley land, in a manner reminding one of the Chinese, and supply the City of Puebla, almost exclusively, with market vegetables.
After the party entered the Valley of Mexico, the appearance of Mr. Seward seldom produced any remarkable demonstrations of enthusiasm among the common people, and we had no reason to expect any different reception at Cholula, in view of the apathy manifested at Puebla, so near at hand. But we were destined to witness a display, as novel and curious as it was unexpected.
The whole country abounds with old churches, all of which have chimes of fine-toned bells still remaining in their towers, though the greater portion of them have but a limited number of worshipers within their walls at any time in these latter and degenerate days. As we neared Cholula the people were seen running
