year more scarce, it is probable that the district will ultimately become a desert.
I hardly know any thing more gloomy than the ride from Pĕrōtĕ to Tĕpĕyăgūālcŏ; the uniformity of the scene is only broken by little hills which start up abruptly every here and there, covered with the Aloe, the Cactus, and a few dwarf palms, which almost conceal the masses of lava of which they are composed. Upon the whole, we were none of us inclined to dispute the justice of the appellation by which this tract of country is distinguished, "el Mal Pais," although there are some redeeming points to which the European traveller may look back with interest, and even with pleasure. The first of these is the view of Ŏrĭzāvă, which is seen from this dreary plain to greater advantage than even from Jălāpă; and the second, the frequency with which specimens of "mirage" occur, in a degree of perfection which the great Sahara itself can hardly surpass. Prepared as we were for this optical illusion, we were more than once completely deceived by it, and fancied that we really saw before us a vast expanse of water, with trees, houses, and every surrounding object, beautifully reflected in it. The whirlwinds of sand too, which occasionally rise in majestic columns from the centre of the plain, were to me a novel sight; and we were all much struck with an insulated conical mountain, called El Cerro de Pizarro,[1] which had
- ↑ The outline of this mountain is given in the drawing of the Maguey, vol. 1. Sect. III.
