mare Mabel, who recognized me before I could plainly see her. Putting my arm around her neck, I found the remnant of the horse-hair lariat with which Frank had fastened her. I tried to return to camp, more than an eighth of a mile away, but could not orient myself in the dark, and had to call to Frank. Guided by his answer, I retraced my steps, stumbling into a brook I had unconsciously crossed in going out; and we found the peg and again secured Mabel. In this curious way we were saved a long hunt for the next day. At daylight we were on a very good road, and soon after eight we stopped at a sugar-plantation for some coffee and frijoles negras. Here was a fine stream, together with vats formerly used for indigo-making, now useless. Hill rose above hill, and Esquipulas seemed as far away as ever. By the roadside were the pilgrim fireplaces, frequent and extensive, and we noticed a large deposit of a pink-colored rock, which I supposed might contain manganese (_Rhodonite_). The specimens I brought away, I regret to say, were afterwards left at one of our camps. The last hill at length climbed, before us lay an extensive valley reaching to the distant mountains of Merendon, the boundary of Spanish Honduras. [Illustration: Lava Mask in the Museo Nacional.] CHAPTER VIII. ESQUIPULAS AND QUIRIGUA. I have grouped in this chapter two most interesting monuments of the past,—a Christian temple whose mission seems to have been fulfilled, and a pagan graveyard where stand the monuments of unknown kings or heroes. They are not inaptly joined; for in this busy, matter-of-fact, commercial age, it is well that the less perishable records of our brothers who have preceded us in the unending march of life upon this globe should detain us, if but for a moment, with the lessons they may teach to thoughtful minds,—the temple raised lay pious labor to signify that there is more than the present to live for, the monuments of the dead to carry on the personalities so soon lost in earthly life.