I.
A GLIMPSE OF YUCATAN.
"WE sailed at hazard towards that part of the horizon where the sun set." In these words Captain Bernal Diaz, companion of Cortés, tells of the approach of the Spanish fleet to Yucatan, in 1517.
We came, like those first Spanish navigators, from the east, from the fair island of Cuba, and we too sought the land that lay beyond the western horizon; but not at hazard, and when a long, low line of sand appeared, one morning, we knew it was the coast of the mysterious peninsula.
Easternmost land of Mexico, it presents the farther front of that ancient continent that may once have extended to Cuba, and beyond,—to Atlantis, to Africa. Without it, perhaps, there would have been no Gulf Stream; and that warm river of the sea, diverted from our Northern shores, would have fertilized and vivified other countries instead. Had it not stood so boldly out, inviting those reckless Spaniards to conquest and plunder, Mexico might have remained till now as the aboriginal Culua, and the world of to-day be enjoying the benefits of its wonderful civilization. But what Yucatan might have been had it been different, or left to the people who ruled it four hundred years ago, we may better speculate upon after we have seen it. Let us go on shore.
The coast lay full in sight at daybreak, and at nine o'clock the steamer anchored, several miles from shore. Scarce rising above the sea, a white sand-bank, relieved by groups of palms, a few tile-covered houses, and a long wharf, lay blazing in the sun. This was Progreso, only port of entry of Yucatan. Some vessels lay at anchor there, and a dozen lighters put out from
