We stopped at a small village to change horses, (for on leaving Jalapa, our mules were exchanged for eight strong white horses,) and here Don Miguel made us enter a very pretty house belonging to some female friends of his, one of whom was very handsome, with a tasteful white turban. The curiosity of this place is a rock behind the house, covered with roses, clove-carnations, and every variety of bright flower-tree, together with oranges, lemons, limes, and cedrats, all growing out of the rock. The ladies were very civil, though I dare say surprised at our admiration of their December flowers, and gave us orangeade and cake, with large cedrats and oranges from the trees; but above all, the most delicious bouquet of roses and carnations; so that, together with the unknown scarlet and purple blossoms which the captain of the escort had gathered for me, the diligence inside looked like an arbor.
We continued our journey, the road ascending towards the table-land, and at one striking point of view, we got out and looked back upon Jalapa, and round upon a panorama of mountains. Gradually the vegetation changed. Fine, fresh-looking European herbage and trees succeeded the less hardy though more brilliant trees and flowers of the tropics. The banana and chirimoya gave place to the strong oak, and higher still, these were interspersed with the dark green of the pine.
At San Miguel de los Soldados we stopped to take some refreshment. The country became gradually more bleak, and before arriving at the village of Las Vigas, nearly all trees had disappeared but the hardy
