face of the moon. By constant familiarity and daily repetition the most glorious sights at length lose their charm.

Having provided myself with letters of introduction, on the 14th of May I started for the large Indian village of Isalco, lying about five Spanish miles from the volcano. The Judge, Don Marcellino Valdetz, a Spanish creole, who is one of the richest freeholders of the village, hospitably entertained me that night, and procured for me two Indians well acquainted with the roads as guides. He was also kind enough to have the oldest man of the place brought to me, who still possessed the full power of memory. Francisco Castillo was already in his eighty-fifth year, and with his long beard and silver hair, was still a handsome, cheerful old man. His carriage was erect and almost imposing, and he still continued, even barefooted and in his shirt-sleeves, to walk about with great vigor. Even in the hot, elevated regions of the tropics, with poverty and indifferent food, a man may reach a good old age, provided, like old Castillo, he has had the good fortune to spring from a healthy family and to live temperately and naturally, and with but little labor of the brain. This old man, who spoke perfectly pure Spanish, I visited repeatedly after my return from Isalco, and the information obtained from him concerning the life-history of the volcano, which was only a few years older than himself, I will record at the conclusion of this sketch.

In company with my two tawny guides, who traveled afoot, I left the Indian village at daybreak. The young and powerful mule on which I was mounted went slowly but surely on her way, no matter whether the path led over wooded slopes, little open savannas, or fields of lava. On account of the lava-streams, I found it impossible to go to Isalco by a direct route, and was compelled to go round it from the north-east so as first to reach its neighbor, Cerro Chino, by which it is commanded. Our path, at first, led by a moderate ascent, through a forest, superabounding with luxuriant tropical plants, and where especially the undergrowth of this particular season of the year exhibited a rich and gorgeous bloom. The green parrots, which were very numerous, had begun their morning flight, and the red arosse gracefully rocked itself to and fro on the top of the mimosa, crying and scolding all the while it rocked.

ing of Cerro Chino, or some other long-extinguished neighboring volcano.

The

The cry of the birds, as usual, was not heard during the heat of midday. The stillness of the forests and savannas was, however, interrupted by the powerful roar of the volcano, which we were now rapidly approaching. In the afternoon we rode three hours through a forest which, in the higher portions, gradually lost the characteristic tropical vegetation, and, with its prevailing oak and fir of rather peculiar appearance, showed, indeed, the ordinary physiognomy of the higher regions of the Andes. At last we watched a beautiful, open plateau, where the forest had been cleared. Seven huts, scattered about among the cornfields and meadows, with straw roofs and open sides, were inhabited by Indian families, who worked the soil in the pay of Don Lorenzo, the proprietor of this mountain hacienda. proprietor was absent, and was not expected till evening. The hut which he himself occupied was not much better than those of his tawny laborers; and when one is brought suddenly from the sultry atmosphere of Sonsonante into a region five thousand feet above the sea-level, he can not but sensibly feel the chilliness of the evenings and nights, even where the temperature never falls lower than ten degrees above zero. I could earnestly have wished for this open hut those solid walls which I would so gladly have missed in the hot regions of the coast. My reception by the Indians was not exactly hospitable. This desirable trait of character does not belong to the dreamy and melancholy native races of America. Still they opened their patron's hut without opposition, and gave me for supper a share of what they themselves were eating-corn tortillas, beans, and cooked bananas. Meat they did not eat, and had not so much as a gun to shoot the deer and wood-hens, which the hunter, who would give himself the trouble to stand and watch in edge of the forest during the twilight, could hardly fail to secure. During my ride through the forest I had shot only a few wild pigeons, whose tender flesh, however, served to season the frgal meal. After a brief rest, during which the guides slept and the mules grazed, we devoted the closing hours of the day to an excursion in the neighborhood.

ably the immediate predecessors of Isalco, whose first irruption only took place when the other chimneys connected with this great volcanic hearth had been closed up. The base of the volvanic plateau, on which the hacienda of Don Lorenzo, with its meadows and cornfields, stood, was of doleritic lava of a grayish black color, full of blisters and little crystals of vitreous feldspar. Only occasional compact lumps of lava showed themselves above the vegetable covering of the forest and the mountain meadows,

The summit of Cerro Chino rises above Isalco more than a thousand feet. The distance of the plateau on which I stood, from the crater of Isalco, was, in a straight line, not more than half a league. With the spy-glass, and in a tolerably clear atmosphere, I could see not only the naked, confused mass of the cone of dross, and the rim and the walls of the summit-crater, but could also observe the bursting forth of the dross, attended with the most fearful sounds. These discharges, which, on this day, were less frequent than usual, were also proportionately more violent. The strongest of these irruptive salvosgenerally the fifth, after four feebler ones-threw their projectiles to the hight of, perhaps, a thousand feet. The fiery glow of the dross could not be seen by daylight; all appeared dark. But when the sun went down, and Isalco and its surroundings were enveloped in the shadows of the night, the glare of the ejected matter, already clearly visible through the smoke, toward nine o'clock in the evening reached the full sublimity of its fiery play. The lava-streams of the volcano, however, were not visible from my position, because they flowed in an opposite direction. Don Lorenzo, a respectable creole, almost seventy years old, reached the hut late in the evening, and gave me a courteous greeting. He was not educated, but yet he chatted pretty well, and gave me intelligent answers to all my questions concerning the people and the country, and especially respecting Isalco. Inasmuch, also, as I had brought with me no hammock, he gave me the privilege of a bed made of thin branches of trees, and covered with an ox-hide. That night I slept but little, not so much because my bed was hard as because I was restless. I left the hut repeatedly, and wandered about in the starlight without. My two guides, Don Lorenzo, and the whole Indian kinship of the neighboring huts, snored away, meantime, on their ox-hides with unmitigated heartiness, and did not allow themselves to be awakened even by the most violent thunderpeals of the volcano. After midnight something strange appeared to be going forward on Isalco.

Instead of the thunder-like detonations it sent forth a continued noise, sometimes dull and crashing, sometimes roaring, which reminded me of the night-roar of Niagara. Upon this followed a perfect silence of nearly two hours, which was suddenly broken by an uncommonly violent, thunder-like discharge. A splendid display of fire-works illuminated the night, the glowing projectiles flew whizzing far up into the glitteing, blue, tropical sky, and then returned with a terrible crash, some into the crater, and some upon the declivities of the cone. This indescribably beautiful spectacle was several times repeated Then came a longer pause, continuing till the mists of the morning, mingling with the vaporclouds from the volcano, inwrapped the entire entire cone.

At day-break I discharged my gun to awaken my guides. The old creole who had promised to accompany me part of the way, was first on his feet, and was soon heard giving his orders. The stupid Indians stirred the fire; the women made ready the dough for tortillas, and Don Lorenzo prepared the coffee, while my guides were bringing the mules from the meadow, and saddling them. The morning was cool and damp, and reminded me of the summer mornings I had passed in the huts of the cow-keepers in the Tyrolese and Swiss mountains-the same show of battle between the morning sun and the mist, the same rich dew-pearls on the flowers of the meadow, the same spectral forms in the clouds, which came and went without the beholder being able to say when or how. Still, however, the air here was incomparably softer, milder, and lovelier than in the Alps of Europe, even during the most beautiful, early hours of the month of July. That flower aroma, which is only yielded by a tropical forest, was richly mingled with the atmosphere of these elevated regions. Besides this, birds of manifold notes poured forth music from the trees and bushes. For, although intolerable screechers and chirpers, especially among the climbing birds, made up the greater part, still individual melodious singers were not wanting. We did not hear, however, the voice of the Cilegro, the Orpheus among the forest singers of the Cordilleras. This hight was, perhaps, not sufficiently cool for him. He loves the regions of six thousand and seven thousand feet above the sealevel, and is seldom seen in less elevated places.

The master of the hut had prepared the coffee, and Rafaela, a half-naked Indian girl of sixteen years old, brought me the steaming cup. The deep black, waving hair, a tolerably pretty, though melancholy face, and a well-formed person, made

the dusky Hebe quite sufficiently interesting to invite one to a conversation. Still, Rafaela, like most of the Indian maidens, was somewhat shy, and avoided the questions, which her greasy, ugly mother answered for her. Whoever has had much intercourse with Indians, soon gives up questioning, because but little is to be obtained from a people so shy and dreamy, and withal so sparing of words. The harvest of conversation never corresponds with the pains necessary to be taken in order to get an Indian to taik. Rafacla had three older sisters, Tomasa, Julia, and Mary. The youngest sister, a little girl, was sick, and lay sleeping in the eldest sister's arms, who was gently rocking her. The type of the Indian of Central | America, was most distinctly exhibited in this family-smooth, rich, coal-black, and yet lusterless hair, growing far down upon the forehead; the dark-brown eyes, reminding the observer of the Mongolian race, are somewhat crossed, and narrowed toward the root of the nose. The nose itself, as among all the native tribos with whom I met in Central America, has an ignoble shape; it is strongly pressed in, and has large nostrils. The lips protrude strongly, the teeth are white as ivory, but not well formed; but the cheek-bones are only moderately high. Among the females the bosom develops very fully as soon as they reach the marriageable age, and is too full and luxurious to be attractive.

The coffee had been sipped, the tortillas consumed, and the Indian cabin-life and family characteristics of Cerro Chino inspected to weariness. One mule stood saddled, another well packed. With Don Lorenzo ahead, I rode over the plateau down toward the wooded ravine which separates Cerro Chino from Isalco. I continued to ride for about an hour, after which, on account of the increasing denseness of the vegetation and the steepness of the declivities, I was obliged to dismount and take it afoot. The good-natured old creole left me, though not till he had pointed out to the Indians the exact direction they were to take in order to cut the "pecatura" through the untrodden forest. To me he recommended caution, and wished me good luck, if I should entirely succeed in reaching the infernal pool, of which no human being had yet had a near view. The "pecatura," which is cut with the hatchet through this pathless forest, serves less to lighten the labor of getting through, than to assist in finding the way back. Nothing can give one a more desolate feeling than to be wandering about in these forests. The wonder produced by the beauty all around somewhat softens the feeling of helplessness and horror resulting from the un

known dangers which lurk under the verdure of innumerable plants. The high India-rubber boots had been left behind in the hut, and instead of these I wore low shoes, better, indeed, for climbing the mountains, but no protection against the snakes. Without long hunting boots, reaching at least to the knees, it is impossible here to get through the bushes without danger. The little coral snakes, the larger vipers, the southern rattlesnakes, more beautifully marked than the North American species, the several species of the trigonocephalus, generally lie coiled on the ground, in the dampest parts of the thicket. They are too dull to volunteer an attack, but bite most fiercely upon the slightest disturbance.

The depths of the ravine, where the Cerro Chinian slope, rich in vegetation, and the desolate, plantless, ashy cone of Isalco, come together, were finally reached without disaster. The contrast between these two mountains can not be too strikingly drawn. A lava-stream, gray, drossy, perfectly bare and hard, not yet affected by the weather, following the inclination of the surface, had rolled into the valley at the northern foot of the cone. That part of the forest which the lava had overflowed, was perfectly burned and wasted, and the fertile ground, formerly adorned by the most charming organisms, was converted into a mass of stone. Along the margin of the lava, however, on the slopes, grew the most luxuriant forest bushes and mountain meadow herbs, exhibiting that swelling and glittering verdure, which, especially at the beginning of the rainy season, lends such an inexpressible charm to the higher regions of Central America.

Here we encamped on the extremest edge of the forest, close to the foot of Isalco. The elder Indian, Jose, had succeeded in bringing the two mules down into the ravine, by a far round-about, but much less steep route. Still, he could not lead them entirely to our bivouac, but tied them about a quarter of a league above with a long rope, by the legs. The younger Indian was induced, by the promise of good pay, to accompany me on my first visit to the volcano. I did not let him know that I intended to press my way up to the crater itself, because I knew well the terror among the natives of this "inferno.”

More than two hours we two climbed on over the rough surfaces of the lava-stream, which, to the point where it touches the Cerro Chino, flows to the north, and then, following the deepening of the ravine, turns more to the east. The color of the doleritic lava of Isalco is a grayish black, frequently tinged with a yellowish red oxyd of iron. The surface of the great masses of lava

In many places the lava-stream was partly covered with cinders, which made the ascent much more difficult, and on account of these capilli, with their sharp edges, very destructive of leather shoes. The Isalco lava somewhat resembles the later lavas of Etna and Vesuvius. It is chiefly basaltic and doleritic, very drossy and full of blisters, with but few crystaloids. The refuse thrown out, on the contrary, contains many crystals of lencite, augite, etc.

At half the hight of the cone, which we reached after the most painful climbing, we found upon the lava-stream a mass of rock whose weight could scarcely have been any less than twenty-five hundred tuns. It was a porphyritictrachyte, full of little crystaloids of glassy feldspar. Judging from appearances, this tremendous mass must once have belonged to the compact stone of the plateau-ground which Isalco pierced and rent asunder when it opened its crater. During one of the stronger outbursts it was probably hurled out of the irruptive crater itself. We also found fragments of this same stone further up, but they were not so large.

The summit of the volcano again covered itself with clouds, and withdrew from the view. The attempt to ascend on this day would have had favorable chances throughout, as the explosions only followed at intervals of one to two hours, during which the cone smoked but little and was entirely noiseless. These long pauses are very rare at Isalco; and indeed are always followed by more energetic outbursts. But, alas! the mist settled even upon the lower slopes of the volcano, and resolutely remained there the whole day. To go further was, for the present, not to be thought of. We were compelled to content ourselves with this reconnoisance, and return to our place of encampment, which afforded my dusky guide no little gratification, not only because his shoes were torn to pieces by the sharp edges of the lava, but mainly on account of his dread of the awful, infernal pit, whose roaring we now heard much more distinctly than on Cerro Chino. Indeed, his alarm had increased, in the gloomy atmosphere, to such an extent, that he seemed to think that Satan already had him in his power.

The night bivouac was more pleasant in the ravine than it had been on the cool hights of Cerro Chino. We spread our bed-clothes on the

pents. Indeed, the jaguar is found in these mountains in great numbers; but they do not venture near the foot of Isalco, whose roar and discharges of dross are distasteful to the fiercest beasts of prey. Among the night voices of animals I heard neither the cry of the large cat, nor the bass tones of the crying ape. Even the sad notes of the night-birds were weaker and much less frequent than on Cerro Chino. On the other hand, the earliest dawn was greeted by innumerable voices of little cooing doves, of the various species of the southern thrush, and especially of the garrulous parrots.

At day-break I left my place of lodging, and, armed with nothing but my geognostical hammer, started alone for the volcano. I was firmly resolved to ascend as far as the condition of the upper dross cone, with the utmost exertion of physical strength, would possibly allow, and even to bid defiance to the danger of volcanic explosions. The atmosphere was less misty than on the day before, and the top, as also the sides, of the volcano, were, for hours together, free from clouds. The pauses between the explosions were of two or three hours' continuance-a very rare phenomenon at Isalco, where an irruption of dross generally occurs at intervals of nine to fifteen minutes. Another favorable circumstance was, that a strong north-east wind was bearing the vapor, as also the dross, in a direction opposite to Cerro Chino. I hoped during one of these pauses to be able to reach the margin of the crater. Alas! I deceived myself. After proceeding several hours on the lava-stream, I reached the steep slope of the cone, covered with lapilli and volcanic ashes. The difficulties increased as I ascended. At every step I sunk in the ashes to the knee, often to the body. In steep places I often slipped back ten steps, after I had made one in advance. At an elevation of about four hundred feet below the edge of the crater, I already sensibly felt the heat under my feet. None of the burning mountains which I have visited and ascended in Italy, in Armenia, in Asia Minor, and later in Nicaragua and Guatemala, can for a moment be compared with Isalco, in respect of the labor and danger of ascent.

After indescribable hardships, scarcely three hundred feet below the rim of the crater, I came to block of trachyte, in a petrographical point of view, precisely similar to the colossal mass which I had seen the day before; like it, also, it had been thrown there by the volcano. Here I rested-my strength was on the wane, and the