After the mountains and plains and rivers and all animals of the forest had been created, the gods proceeded to form man. First they made him of mud; but the rains descended and beat upon that being, and he dissolved. Not being able to make man according to their desires, they called to their aid the mysterious powers of Xpiyacoc and Xmucane, magic adepts, and by incantation learned that man should be made of wood, and woman of the pith of bulrush. This second edition of the human species was little better than the first, although more durable. The stiff, wooden images had neither fat nor blood; they could speak and beget children, but lacked intelligence. Their eyes were never turned to heaven, and their tongues never glorified Huracan. Then there fell from heaven a torrent of bitumen and pitch on these ungrateful children, a bird named Xecotcovuch tore out their eyes, another, named Camulotz, cut their heads, while an animal called Cotzbalam ate their flesh, and the Tucumbalam crushed their bones. The poor wretches climbed their roofs to escape the flood; but the walls crumbled beneath them, and the trees fled from them, and when they sought refuge in the caves of the mountains, the stone doors shut in their faces. Of all the numerous progeny of this wooden couple, only a few were preserved, and from them have descended the apes of the present day. A third attempt was more successful, as maiz was used to form blood and flesh and fat. Xmucane ground the corn and cunningly concocted nine beverages, which were changed into the various humors of the body. This first successful creation was fourfold, and the names of the quartette were identical with those of the four chiefs who conducted the Quichés to Mount Hacavitz. While these primitive men slept, their wives were built,—not, however, by robbing the men, but of the remaining portion of the same meal. The celestial powers did not, however, have everything as they wished. The man was tolerable, but by no means perfect, for his teeth were defective; and he was built too much like the apes to carry himself erect with perfect safety, hence he became ruptured. But there was no time to try again, for they had already a rival in the person of Vucub-caquix,—a sort of Lucifer who imagined himself to be the sun, moon, and all the stars. How he was punished, the “Popul Vuh” tells at length; and I am tempted to translate literally, using the text of Ximenes, that my readers may judge both of the style of this sacred book, and also of the mode of thought and the belief among the Quichés at the time when Utatlan was in all its glory.