A better site for defence could scarcely have been chosen. No foe could advance by either flank; and an attacking party from the front would be exposed while crossing the open ground. The place might be more successfully assailed from the rear--by an enemy coming over the top of the sierra. The idea of defence could not have been entertained. On the Indian frontier, yes; but in the valley of Mexico--tranquil since the time of Moctezuma--there had been no fighting. The structure could have nothing to do with the revolutionary era. It was too ancient for that. It was difficult to understand why such a dwelling had been erected in such a place. It could not be an agricultural establishment: there was no arable land within reach. Nor yet a _hacienda de ganados_: since there was no pasture upon the pine-covered slopes that surrounded it. Had it been built by the monks? Perhaps by some eccentric recluse, who had chosen the site, for the purpose of contemplating civilisation, without being disturbed by it? These thoughts were things of an after-time; when, upon an excursion of curiosity, I made myself better acquainted with the topography of the place. All that I saw then--as we were making our stealthy approach--was a block of dark mason work, with a still darker disc in the centre indicating the entrance door; and on each side of this a large window, from which a stream of light was escaping. The ground in front had the look of a ruined garden--overgrown with rank grass, and here and there some clumps of shrubbery run wild. Among these we made our approach--taking care to keep clear of the two bands of yellow light diverging from the windows. Both were mere apertures without glass; defended, as in all Mexican houses, by strong iron bars rising vertically from the sill. There was neither blind nor curtain, to obstruct the passage of the light outward, or the view inward. After a few seconds spent in skulking across the lawn, we succeeded in placing ourselves within good viewing distance of one of the windows. Inside we could see a table set with the paraphernalia of a feast. It appeared a rude piece of furniture; as did also the chairs that stood around it. So, also, were the plates, dishes, and drinking vessels that covered it: though in these we could perceive a grotesque commingling of the cheap and costly. Common earthenware _ollas_, and carved bowls of calabash, stood side by side with goblets of silver, and bottles, whose tapering necks told of claret and champagne! Tall wax candles, that looked as if they had been moulded for the service of the Church, were suspended in chandeliers of the _pitahaya_ cactus, or held in cleft sticks--themselves stuck into the interstices of the slab table!