The White Chief | Page 2

only
passable at certain points. There is a width of ten miles from cliff to
cliff; and these, of equal height, seem the counterparts of each other.

Their grim savage fronts, overhanging the soft bright landscape of the
valley, suggest the idea of a beautiful picture framed in rough
oak-work.
A stream, like a silver serpent, bisects the valley--not running in a
straight course, but in luxuriant windings, as though it loved to tarry in
the midst of that bright scene. Its frequent curves and gentle current
show that it passes over a surface almost plane. Its banks are timbered,
but not continuously. Here the timber forms a wide belt, there only a
fringe scarce shadowing the stream, and yonder the grassy turf can be
distinguished running in to the very water's edge.
Copse-like groves are scattered over the ground. These are of varied
forms; some perfectly circular, others oblong or oval, and others
curving like the cornucopias of our gardens. Detached trees meet the
eye, whose full round tops show that Nature has had her will in their
development. The whole scene suggests the idea of some noble park,
planted by design, with just timber enough to adorn the picture without
concealing its beauties.
Is there no palace, no lordly mansion, to correspond? No. Nor palace
nor cottage sends up its smoke. No human form appears within this
wild paradise. Herds of deer roam over its surface, the stately elk
reposes within the shade of its leafy groves, but no human being is
there. Perhaps the foot of man never--
Stay! there is one by our side who tells a different tale. Hear him.
"That is the valley of San Ildefonso." Wild though it appears, it was
once the abode of civilised man. Near its centre you may note some
irregular masses scattered over the ground. But for the trees and rank
weeds that cover them, you might there behold the ruins of a city.
"Yes! on that spot once stood a town, large and prosperous. There was
a Presidio with the flag of Spain flying from its battlements; there was
a grand Mission-house of the Jesuit padres; and dwellings of rich
miners and `hacendados' studded the valley far above and below. A
busy populace moved upon the scene; and all the passions of love and

hate, ambition, avarice, and revenge, have had existence there. The
hearts stirred by them are long since cold, and the actions to which they
gave birth are not chronicled by human pen. They live only in legends
that sound more like romance than real history.
"And yet these legends are less than a century old! One century ago,
from the summit of yonder mountain could have been seen, not only
the settlement of San Ildefonso, but a score of others--cities, and towns,
and villages--where to-day the eye cannot trace a vestige of civilisation.
Even the names of these cities are forgotten, and their histories buried
among their ruins!
"The Indian has wreaked his revenge upon the murderers of
Moctezuma! Had the Saxon permitted him to continue his war of
retaliation, in one century more--nay, in half that time--the descendants
of Cortez and his conquerors would have disappeared from the land of
Anahuac!
"Listen to the `Legend of San Ildefonso'!"
CHAPTER TWO.
Perhaps in no country has religion so many devoted days as in Mexico.
The "fiestas" are supposed to have a good effect in Christianising the
natives, and the saints' calendar has been considerably enlarged in that
pseudo-holy land. Nearly every week supplies a festival, with all its
mummery of banners, and processions, and priests dressed as if for the
altar-scene in "Pizarro," and squibs, and fireworks, and silly citizens
kneeling in the dust, and hats off all round. Very much like a London
Guy-Fawkes procession is the whole affair, and of about like influence
upon the morals of the community.
Of course the padres do not get up these ceremonial exhibitions for
mere amusement--not they. There are various little "blessings," and
"indultos," and sprinklings of sacred water, to be distributed on these
occasions--not gratuitously--and the wretched believer is preciously
"plucked" while he is in the penitent mood--at the same time he is
promised a short and easy route to heaven.

As to any solemnity in the character of the ceremonials, there is
nothing of the sort. They are in reality days of amusement; and it is not
uncommon to see the kneeling devotee struggling to keep down the
cackle of his fighting-cock, which, full-galved, he carries under the
folds of his serape! All this under the roof of the sacred temple of God!
On days of fiesta, the church genuflexions are soon over; and then the
gambling-booth, the race-course, bull-baiting, the cock-pit, and various
minor amusements, come into full operation. In all these you may