This monastery was founded in 1520, without being completed until 1600. It was constructed of walls, after the plan of a fortification, to ward off the attacks of the Indians, who made sudden and frequent attempts to regain their dominions and to annoy their enemies. It occupies about five acres of ground, enclosed by walls forty feet high and eight thick, with walks upon the top. The material is of hard stone, but composed of small pieces, imbedded in a firm mass by the means of mortar. This vast pile, at one time, contained upwards of two thousand friars. Popular opinion drove them out in the political changes of 1825. Only few of the order remain in Yucatan, and they are supported by the church. The entrance to these ruins is through a huge doorway into a room which was evidently used for persons in waiting for egress, when great caution was requisite in opening the gates, for fear of being surprised by the lurking foe. The arched ceiling of the room is painted with flying ecclesiastical figures, and the apartment is now used as a stable. From thence the entrance leads to a large square, the sides of which were once occupied by churches, corridors, and rooms. Passing through these, over the fallen ruins covered with a rank vegetation, by long halls, we come to a room that might have been a place of devotion, judging from the unusual care exhibited in the architecture of the walls, which now, however, was more or less broken and defaced. Two trap-doors were in the centre, through which is a descent, by stone steps, to an apartment twelve by eighteen feet, and six feet high. This room contained piles of human bones, having been a receptacle for those who died of the cholera. This cell had passages connected with it, but they were so choked up with rubbish that they could not be penetrated. After clambering over broken walls, we reached a second floor, containing halls and rooms that had been used for libraries and lodgings, as I inferred from the words placed over the doors. In proceeding along the halls, or entering the deserted rooms, the hollow sound of the intruder’s footstep drives the frightened bat from his resting-place, and the lizard to his hole. The descent here leads through a succession of rooms and cells, under ground, from whence we left the buildings and passed on through the rank grass surrounding them to a portion of the area, which was formerly cultivated as a garden. The stone walk could yet be seen, and the taste and skill of the designer were perceptible. Fruit-trees still remain, as also wells and reservoirs for bathing and fishing.