In 1541 the capital of the kingdom of Guatemala, now Ciudad Vieja, was a young and flourishing city. Founded in July, 1524, between the mountains Agua and Fuego, in the place called Almolonga (“water-fountain”), with the proud title of “City of Saint James of the Knights of Guatemala,” it had grown to a respectable size, in spite of numerous misfortunes, to which Juarros devotes an entire chapter of his “Compendio.” An earthquake in 1526, so severe, says Bernal Diaz del Castillo, that men could not stand, seems to have frightened the population less than did an enormous lion (puma?) which descended the forest-clad slopes of Agua in 1532 and made great havoc, until a reward of twenty-five gold dollars and a hundred fanegas of wheat induced a peasant to kill the monster. Politics had, as is usually the case, made more disturbance than the forces of Nature. The Conquistador Alvarado was recently dead, his widow, Doña Beatriz de la Cueva, had claimed the government, and the obsequies of the dead and the ceremonials of the new ruler were agitating the city when the sudden and terrible destruction of both ruler and her capital came. Accounts of the catastrophe vary, as is usual with all history,—which some one has wisely called “probabilities and possibilities extracted from lies;” but from nine extant descriptions and an examination of the physical marks which three centuries have not wholly effaced, I believe the following to be a fair story of the event:— September is always a rainy month in Guatemala, and on Thursday, the 8th, a storm began which was violent even for that place and season. Rain fell in torrents, and continued to fall all that day and Friday and Saturday. Two hours after dark on the last day a severe earthquake shock was felt, and from Hunapu, since called the Volcan de Agua, came an avalanche of water, carrying with it immense rocks and entire forests. The terror of the earthquake and the roar of the unseen torrent wrought the excitement of the inhabitants to the utmost. Soon the deluge reached the city; the streets were filled to overflowing, and the houses were beaten by the waves and battered by the great trees brought by the torrent. Among the houses most exposed was that of Doña Beatriz, the widow of the Adelantado. She was preparing for bed; but startled by the earthquake and the terrible noise, endeavored to obtain safety in a small chapel near by, and while clinging to the crucifix was killed by the fall of the chapel wall. Her house was uninjured. All through the city the loss of life was very great; six hundred Spaniards perished, and the loss of Indios and Negroes was far greater. In the morning the remains of the city hardly appeared above the trees, rocks, and mud of the avalanche. It was then that the disheartened survivors decided to remove a league eastward, to the present Antigua.