Rio Grande de Santiago, the outlet of Lake Chapala, upon a stone bridge of some nineteen arches. This bridge is one of the remarkable structures erected by the old Spaniards, and looks as if it might stand for many centuries more. At either end of the bridge are statues of the king and queen of Spain who were reigning when the bridge was erected, but so worn and defaced by time as to be unrecognizable. The stone tablets on which the records of the erection and other facts about the bridge were engraved, have all been plastered over with cement to deface and destroy them, for some reason not apparent. The only date I could decipher was 1718, and that appeared to refer to a repair instead of the erection of the structure. No one living in the vicinity could give us any data concerning it.
The falls of this river, a few miles below where we crossed, are said to compare, not unfavorably, with those of Niagara, but we did not see them.
We staid at Zapotlanejo, a curious old town of four or five thousand inhabitants, on our first night out from Guadalajara. A deputation of the citizens, on horseback, met us outside the town, and escorted us in. They are very poor, but wonderfully hospitable people. The houses have in many cases barricades upon the roofs, reminders of the former revolutions and invasions; and the remarkable number of fair-haired and fair-skinned children to be seen on the streets, tell the same story. A fine band welcomed us, the citizens made speeches in the evening, and were answered by Mr. Seward; and a concert by native Mexicans, all excellent players, the harper being blind, closed the evening's entertainment. The town has a fine old church, at present under repair, and stands
