giving aguardiente and candles, both of which appeared, as if by magic, when she was given money.  Pouring aguardiente from the bottle into a glass, she poured into the four basins in the ground before the altar, before the Virgin, before and behind the heaps of ashes under the table, and then placed it to the lips of the Virgin and Christ, lovingly requesting them to partake.  She then compelled each of the three men priests to make the same libation.  Taking the unlighted candles, she made passes with them, over and across the figures, first to one side and then to the other, brushing the wicks against them.  This, too, had to be done by the three assistants, after which the old lady began to make vigorous personal use of the bottle of spirits, though she was not at all selfish, urging, not only her acolytes, but the presidente, his brother, and the chief guest, to partake.  It was too late to suggest a visit to the idols, but the curious scene we had witnessed gave sufficient food for thought.  Hurrying back to Tlacuilotepec, we ate a last excellent dinner, which had been long waiting, and at three left for Pahuatlan.  Our host, who had been unremitting in his attention, refused all money.  At certain indian houses which we passed upon our homeward way, we saw curious pouches made of armadillo-shells, hanging upon posts or on the house walls.  We learned that they were used at planting-time for holding seed-corn.  When the shell is freshly removed from the animal, it is bent into the required shape, and then packed full with wet ashes, to make it retain its form in drying.  Though it was half-past three when we left, the way was so cool and delightful that we made the journey in three hours.

During our day at Pahuatlan, with a guide furnished by the presidente, I made the journey on foot to Atla, an Aztec town, famous for the little cotton sacks with red wool patterns, which are almost universally carried by men throughout this district.  White cotones, with narrow, dark stripes and a transverse band of red decoration at each end, and white quichiquemils, decorated with brilliant designs in red wool, are also made here.  Our object was not so much to see the village and the garments, as to visit a famous witch’s cave, situated in the noble pinnacle of rock, plainly visible from Pahuatlan.  The whole party started out from Pahuatlan, but at the bottom of the great slope, I left my companions to swim, while the guide and I, crossing a pretty covered bridge, scarcely high enough for a man of my height wearing a sombrero, went on.  It was a long climb to the village, but, when we reached there, my mozo with great glee called my attention to bruheria directly at the side of the church.  In front of the building, to the right of the door as one enters, is a hole in the ground, into which a few large stones have been clumsily thrown or laid.  Here chickens, flowers, eggs, etc., are buried, in order to secure