THERE was something inexpressibly impressing and sublime about the place. Standing there on the narrow terrace of that towering pile that had been erected centuries before the dawn of Christianity, whose gods had been worshipped by millions before the birth of Moses, one seemed apart from the world, lifted above the petty things of life, exalted, nearer to one’s Creator, closer to God. And so, as with weary steps I toiled up the ascent and at last stood at the temple top bathed in the glory of the setting sun, and gazed across that fair green valley and the silent, peaceful city, and looked down upon the shadowy sea of upturned expectant faces, a great peace came to me. The world for all its faults was very, very beautiful; it was good to be alive, to feel that there was one you loved and who loved you in return; that there were those to whom you were very dear, to whom you meant so much. Dropping to my knees, I poured out my thanks to God, prayed that He might guide and protect us and besought His blessings and His mercy for the coming year. Then, rising, I addressed the hushed and silent crowd below. Tomorrow, I reminded them, would be the day of Tonalmatl. The cruel sacrifices of Kinich Ahau were done away with forever, the inhuman priest had been swallowed up in his own accursed well. The gods had forsaken him as all knew. They had shown that his rituals, his sacrifices were wrong--and I pointed dramatically to the silent, deserted Temple of the Sun where no priest stood outlined in the glare of the wavering, lambent flames at the summit. “O, people of Mictolan,” I cried. “Let peace and happiness come to all with the dawning of the Tonalmatl! Let this be a day of thanksgiving and of joy. Forget the past and Kinchi Haman, and celebrate the coming of the New Year by placing the Prince Azcopil upon the throne of Mictolan.” For a moment there was absolute silence. Then a thunderous cheer arose, and as the last crimson glow of the sunset faded from the sky, I descended the temple stairs, reached the plaza, and staggered like a drunken man towards my waiting litter. A dozen willing, eager arms caught me, lifted me. Dimly as in a dream I felt myself sink among the soft robes and cushions, I felt the swaying, lulling motion of my hurrying bearers and then--oblivion. * * * * * WHEN I again opened my eyes, nearly twenty-four hours had passed. Itza was beside me--starry-eyed, beautiful, watchfully tender. I drew her to me and for long lay there, silent, perfectly at peace, sublimely happy in the presence of her yielding body, the gentle throbbing of her heart against my breast, the warm sweet touch of her lips.