That evening, there being no longer fear of the “facciosos,” we had no difficulty in making up a large riding party for the Laguna de Salinas, distant about four miles from the city, which was represented to us as being lower than lake Nicaragua, salt, and shut in by perpendicular rocks. We followed the “camino real,” in the direction of Leon, for a short distance, and then turned off on a narrow mule path, amongst the trees and bushes. It was very evident that the “caballeros” who accompanied us were determined to show us a specimen of their horsemanship, and rode at breakneck pace, keeping a bright lookout for the trunks and branches of the trees, now bending to their horses’ necks to escape the latter, and now throwing their feet dextrously out of the stirrups, to avoid hitting the former. Thanks to early habits of life, this was no very severe trial to me, and I kept even pace with the rest, to their evident surprise, and the strengthening of their conviction that the Yankees were “up” to everything. We passed, here and there, a cane hut, surrounded by plantain trees, corn-fields, and patches of yucas, over ridges of volcanic scoriæ, covered only with grass, down into ravines with a scramble, and out again with a leap, and in half an hour came to the brink of the lake. I dismounted, and pushed through the trees and bushes to the edge of the precipice, and saw, far down, hundreds of feet below me, the glistening waters of the lake, surrounded on all sides by the same bare, blistered, black walls, with a rim of verdure skirting the water’s edge. Mounting again, we rode a little further, to the sole place of descent, in part natural, but chiefly artificial. A narrow path, half-cut, half-worn, in the rock, wound down before us, something after the manner of the winding stairways in monumental columns, only not so wide. The horses picked their way cautiously, avoiding the loose stones, while the rider had enough to do to prevent his legs from being jammed against the wall of rock on either hand. A man had previously been sent ahead, to see that the way was clear, for there is no turning around in this narrow passage, which no doubt owes its origin to the aborigines, and is hardly wide enough to admit the passage of a horse. This cut passed, we came to a place where the fallen debris and rocks made a kind of shelf or terrace. Here we left our horses, the declivity below being very steep, and the rocks slippery withal, and proceeded on foot,—leaping from one stone to the other, and catching at bushes and saplings to check our descent. We soon came to the shore of the lake, where, beyond a line or belt of bushes, was a narrow beach of fine sand. The water was very clear and limpid, but had a sulphury or yellowish green color where it was deeper, a little distance from the shore. It was slightly salt to the taste, from the minerals held in solution. We observed some small fishes, and were