Chapter Twenty-fourth.

ACAPULCO--THE TREE OF LOVE--BATHING AND FEMALES--A CALIFORNIAN IN A TIGHT PLACE--EARTHQUAKES--SAIL FOR REALEJO--VOLCANO VIEJO--ITS DEVASTATING ERUPTION--REALEJO AND HARBOR--A CART AND ITS PASSENGERS--A WALL-STREET FINANCIER FLEECED--CHINANDEGA--ITS BEAUTIFUL ARBORS--BATHING--PREPARING TORTILLOS--LEON--ITS MAGNIFICENCE AND DESOLATION--DON PEDRO VACA AND FAMILY.

As we approach Acapulco, the most striking feature is the telegraph, which is erected on one of the highest peaks of the mountain, and from which, at the approach of a steamer, a blue flag is displayed, or a white one at the approach of a sailing vessel. The town is completely land-locked, there being not the slightest indication of it until passing around the bluff into the inner bay, when the castle is seen directly in our course, and passing on, bearing to the left, the town is seen stretching away up the side of the mountain. The bay has the appearance of a lake being entirely shut in by mountains. Our steamer passed on to within fifteen or twenty rods of the town when we dropped anchor and were immediately boarded by the officer of the port, also by innumerable men and boys for passengers, and females with fruit. Passengers are taken into bungoes, or canoes, which are headed in until the bow strikes the shore, when they take their stand preparatory to a jump as the sea runs back. (See Plate.) Not unfrequently they are overtaken by the next sea, which is extremely embarrassing, particularly if one has just changed his linen. We entered the town at the foot of the main street; two churches are seen, each supporting a tower, the custom-house being in the foreground at the left. The buildings are of one story, constructed of stone or _adobes_, and covered with tile. This is one of the most beautifully located towns on the Pacific coast. It is never visited by

[Illustration: G. V. COOPER DEL. ON STONE BY J. CAMERON LITH. OF G. W. LEWIS 111 NASSAU ST. N. Y. ACAPULCO.]

blighting winds but is shut in by mountains, watered by mountain rivulets, and supplied with all the tropical fruits, which grow here spontaneously, and in the greatest abundance. It reminds one of the “happy valley” of “Rasselas.” Along the margin of the bay are trees of peculiar shape called the “amata,” or tree of love, the form of the top resembling an umbrella, under which hammocks are slung--and people enjoy their _siestas_. (See Plate). The castle is a work of some strength mounting several brass pieces of heavy calibre; it is however much neglected, being garrisoned only by a few barefooted soldiers. Just back of the town is a stream of the purest water from springs on the mountain side; this is the bathing place of the inhabitants, and a more inviting one could not be imagined; the stream is so limpid, and of such a congenial temperature, that one feels that he could repose in its bosom forever. In taking a bath it was difficult to rid ourself of the presence of a half dozen señoritas who would come to the bank, towel in hand, offering to prepare you for your clothes, for the moderate sum of sixpence. They were all beautiful, but I preferred seeing them under other circumstances. This want of modesty, as it will be termed, is a characteristic of Spanish America, and although it may show a want of refined delicacy according to the frigid laws of the States, they are entirely unconscious of impropriety.

The females here are celebrated for their beauty, finely developed forms, and graceful bearing, as well as for their vivacity and winning pathos in conversation. They possess many peerless traits of character, and manifest a devoted attachment to their parents and offspring. The full dress of a lady consists of a white chemise, a colored skirt flounced at the bottom, and a scarf which serves alternately as a shawl and bonnet.

The market is well supplied with every variety of fruit and cakes, and beef by the yard. The stands are mostly attended by females. The first salutation upon entering the market-place is from the little girls, who hail you with, “Say, Americano! lemonade, picayune?” holding up to you a plate containing a glass of lemonade, as will be seen by the accompanying Plate. At the left, in the foreground, is seen a Señora making love to an _hombre_ who looks from underneath his huge _sombrero_, and seems to hold the tighter, his lemon basket and jug. Then there is little _Niña_ with her picayune-lemonade, and _Muchacho_ with his hat on his head, inverted, and filled with lemons. He was requested to stand for this drawing, and looked the very personation of a corn-field effigy. Then there is _Señora_, the second, standing demurely, supporting on her head, a basket of shells. Then comes one of the “immortal garrison;” he supports a high plume and long cigar. There is something extremely martial in his attitude, although he appears lame in one foot. Just behind this soldier, is a group of three; the man is a Californian; he was brought ashore by the boy, but does not seem anxious to pay his fare. The boy has his hand full of stones, by which he designs to convince the man that he had better pay. During the parley, a female runs out, and recognizing the man as having got his dinner of her without paying for it, she says, “Ah! you thought I wouldn’t know you, but I do know you.” This was coming too thick for the man, and, giving a kind of “b’hoy” bend of the knee, he runs both hands into his pockets, with a “well, I guess if I owe you anything, I can p-a-y.” The range of buildings at the right are eating and drinking saloons. An officer is seen galloping across the plaza, with a sentinel at the left. Back of the town, an opening is cut through the mountain, presenting a very striking appearance, and is said to have been done by the Spaniards to give the town a circulation of air. Acapulco contains 3,000 inhabitants, many of whom are the native Indian race. It is somewhat subject to earthquakes, there being at present several ruins of buildings, including one church, that were prostrated a few years since.

In passing down from Acapulco to Realejo, there is a continuation of the same magnificent scenery, and as you near the harbor, you see towering up from the Cordilleras, Viejo, the most elevated volcano in Central America. (See Plate.) It is seen rearing its head above the clouds, and belching forth a column of smoke. This volcano, for many years, ceased to burn; but a few years since, the whole of the surrounding country became agitated; the air was filled for several days, with smoke so dense and black, that it entirely obscured the sun, rendering it dark as night. The inhabitants were appalled with terror, some fled the country, others collected their families and shut themselves up

[Illustration: G. V. COOPER DEL. ON STONE BY J. CAMERON LITH. OF G. W. LEWIS, 111 NASSAU ST. N. Y. MARKET PLACE, ACAPULCO.]

in their houses, or assembled _en masse_ in the churches; beasts were seen near the habitations crouching with fear, and wild fowls were heard shrieking through the air. On the night of the third day, the country underwent another frightful convulsion, followed by a terrific explosion, when this volcano vomited forth a deluge of liquid fire, which swept down its sides, carrying devastation in its track. At this eruption, so great was the quantity of lava thrown out that part of the summit, near the crater, was carried away, as will be seen by the accompanying plate.

Realejo has a fine harbor, being situated on an arm of the ocean. As you pass in, passing an island at the entrance, you find yourself in a bay of sufficient capacity to accommodate the navies of the world. Our steamer passed up three miles to a dock which was being constructed by Howard and Son, and to which we made fast. This is one of the coal depots for the line, and preparations were making to construct suitable buildings. After landing our baggage, we engaged “bungoes” to convey us to Realejo, three miles distant, and as we passed along up, we found the margin of the bay low and swampy, and, in some places, as will be seen at the right, above the dock, forests of mango-trees growing up from the water. Several rivers put in at the head of the bay, their banks low and swampy, presenting a very unhealthy appearance.

Realejo is a town of 400 inhabitants. The houses are one story, built of _adobes_, and covered with tile. There are several churches in ruins, and one much dilapidated, but still used; the natives are the most squalid I saw in Central America, and everything is done on that behind-the-age principle that characterizes Spanish America.

At the left, in the accompanying Plate, will be seen a cart, drawn by two yoke of oxen, and lashed to their horns are sticks, four feet in length, which fall against their foreheads, and by which they draw. The cart-wheels are made by sawing two cuts from a log, and boring holes through at the heart; a pole is run through, with a linch-pin hole in each end. A rude frame of reed or cane is put on to keep the wheels from running together, and as this is covered with raw hides, it serves as a protection to the passengers in case of rain. When all are ready, the driver mounts the tongue, with a long pole, prepared to “stir up the animals;” he gives the inimitable whoop, and they are under way. When he wants them to bear to the left, he applies the end of the pole to the right-hand leader, shoves him out, and they come to, and _vice versa_. On the road there is always in attendance a little boy, whose duty it is to “grease the wheels.” He is supplied with a quantity of green bark, and when the wheels creak he applies a piece; it winds around the axle, and seems to ease the pain. This, to a person accustomed to an easy carriage, would seem an uncomfortable mode of performing a journey; yet, dear reader, in this same cart, at this particular time, there is a gentleman and lady, well-known in New York circles, on their way to Nicaragua, _en route_ to the United States. They are seated on their trunks, in a recumbent attitude, with heads uncovered, each drop of the wheel seeming to _give rise_ to new phrenological developments.

There is a spacious hotel now being built here, and there is a prospect that the town will become Americanized. We were obliged to take lodgings at a private house. We lived on chickens, eggs, and _carna_, or beef dried in strings, and sold by the yard. At night we slung ourselves up in hammocks, at the mercy of the mosquitos. After a detention of two days, we succeeded in hiring passage, in carts, for Chinandega. Our driver was anxious to start at an early hour, and _hitched his oxen to the cart at_ 2 P.M. We seated ourselves on trunks, inside, and were soon under way.

Nothing could have been more ludicrous than the appearance of the passengers, as each had assumed a peculiar attitude. Here sat a lank doctor of six feet three, his feet hanging out at the fore-end of the cart, his legs and body being warped up along the side of the covering, his head sticking out behind. On the other side, seated flat in the bottom, was a man very nearly as tall, but not half so amiable, who had somewhat the appearance of a clothes-rack unshipped, and seemed to think this a suitable occasion for the use of _hard words_. He was under oath all day, and swore himself to sleep at night. Soon after starting, our driver, with the greatest precision, brought up against a rock, which not only caused a great mortality

[Illustration: G. V. COOPER DEL. ON STONE BY J. CAMERON LITH. OF G. W. LEWIS, 111 NASSAU ST. N. Y. BARACO REALEJO.]

among the hats inside, but broke our axle. Our driver hacked down a sapling with his matchet, and soon had a new one, and was again under way.

Our driver was a decided genius in his way, and with a suitable pair of pantaloons, and a clean shirt, would have done honor to Wall-street. He would hide his oxen every opportunity, and then throw a native boy in our way, who would offer to find them for $5. I need not add that the reward was divided between them. One transaction of this kind we thought quite sufficient; and in his subsequent financial transactions he was not so successful, as the sequel will show. His entire wardrobe was a shirt, which he carried in his hat. Our _muchacho_, who attended to the wheels, was much less encumbered. We gave him a shirt, which he very judiciously rolled up and tied around his neck; I say judiciously, for when he arrived at Chinandega he had a clean shirt to put on.

The country from Realejo to Chinandega, is a continuous mud-hole, and, together with the intense heat and our wretched conveyance, made our sufferings intolerable. The distance was but seven miles, still as night overtook us, and our team gave out, we were obliged to encamp before reaching the town. In the morning, our driver went out in search of the team, but soon returned, pronouncing them _unfindable_. This was most vexatious. We were almost in sight of Chinandega, but with the prospect of being detained for hours. Our driver was accompanied by a worthy, of about his own age and personal appearance. We sent our driver out again in search, but his companion remained. After loitering for half an hour, he proposed going out in search of the team, thought he could find them for five dollars; we, as if wishing to drive the best bargain we could, asked him if he could not find them for less; he came down to four, three, two, and one dollar, and finally to twenty-five cents. We took him, tied his hands behind him, then tied him to a tree; we then cut a half-dozen good sized _saplings_, designing to “put him through a course of sprouts.” He was almost frantic, and seemed to look upon this as a crisis in his affairs. We asked him where the oxen were, he said, “just over the hill;” we asked him if our driver knew it, he said, “Si, Señor.” We told him to call him, and in a moment he was at hand. He looked with apparent concern at the situation of his _companion_, and endeavored to keep beyond the orbit of our _saplings_. We ordered him to back up to a tree, he fell on his knees and said he would find the team in “_una momento_,” and in a moment they were at the tongue of our cart; we now demanded his half of the five dollars already extorted, which he immediately paid over, and seemed to breathe more freely. We now released his companion, in part, in order to give him an opportunity to escape, which we saw he was anxious to do. He improved the golden moment, for as we were making certain demonstrations with our _saplings_ he made one tremendous leap and disappeared in the chaparrals. We were soon at Chinandega, and did not forget to deduct the other two dollars and a half from our freight bill.

Chinandega is a beautiful town, well laid out, the streets running at right angles, and built upon compactly. In the suburbs, the streets are walled up, with the fluted cactus, with an occasional opening through which you enter into ornamented groves and arbors. Nothing can exceed the beauty and luxury of these retreats. Fruits of the most delicious flavor grow spontaneously, every vine blooms, and the air laden with incense, breathes through, whispering gently to the foliage; here are also innumerable tropical birds, lending their notes and plumage to the scene. This town is celebrated for its beautiful women, and never did I look upon such specimens of female grace and loveliness. Their eyes were dark and lustrous, and their countenances, like their native clime, always beaming with sunshine. The town numbers several churches and convents of great extent, one of the former being surmounted by a spacious dome and spire, (see Plate,) and furnished with an organ and valuable scriptural paintings. Near the town is a stream and pool, the favorite bathing-places of the inhabitants. (See Plate.) In the pool are seen both sexes, the Señoritas displaying their graceful forms, without the least reserve or sense of impropriety. Water is obtained here for the use of the town; bathers fill the earthen jars, when the Señoritas place them upon their heads and walk gracefully away. Here are seen a party of females preparing corn for “tortillos;” they boil it in water into which is thrown a handful of ashes; it is then put into a basket and the hull removed, by getting in with their feet; it is then washed, dried,

[Illustration: G. V. COOPER DEL. ON STONE BY J. CAMERON LITH. OF G. W. LEWIS, 111 NASSAU ST. N. Y. CHURCH IN SHINANDAGUA.]

and parched, placed upon a flat stone, and with another stone ground to a flour.

I engaged a cart to take myself and baggage to Grenada, but after waiting one day, with no prospect of starting, I purchased a horse, and engaged passage for my trunk in a cart that was about to start, and was soon under way. We passed through Chichigalpa, Poselagua, &c., small towns, and at night, put up at a miserable _rancho_, with the prospect of a poor supper, and poorer lodgings. We had traveled, during the day, through a level, densely timbered country, the road having been a continuous mud-hole, in many places almost impassable; I stretched myself out on a bench, half my length, and after paying court to Morpheus for an hour, fell into his arms. The next morning, at ten, we arrived at Leon, the capital of Nicaragua; we had not breakfasted, consequently this was our first care, after which we took a survey of the town.

This is a place of much importance, being the home of the aristocracy and talent of the country. It is ornamented with public buildings, churches, and convents which, for extent and magnificence, are not equalled in the country. The plaza is spacious, and surrounded by public buildings, elaborately ornamented with stucco, all indicating the work of a master-hand. My first impressions were of the most pleasing character, but upon extending my walk, a feeling of sadness insensibly stole upon me. Here, too, amidst the beauties, I might say the perfections of nature, here in this almost celestial atmosphere, is found the impress of those sanguinary revolutions, with which this doomed country has been laid waste. One half the town is in ruins. Palaces that were once the scene of regal banquets, are now roofless, and tenanted only by loathsome reptiles. Here, are figures, representing Liberty and Peace, now half-buried beneath the ruins, their faces bearing the marks of the ruthless sabre. The political, like the natural existence of this country, has always been precarious; her social elements, like her subterranean caverns, have always been in a state of agitation; the lava of human passions frequently bursting forth, devastating, and drenching the country with blood.

The inhabitants of Leon were, as a class, superior to any I had seen in the country; the men were robust, active, and intelligent, and the females beautiful. They seemed more nearly allied to the Castilian than any I had seen in any of the departments of Spanish America. Hospitality is the predominant characteristic; we frequently found ourselves under obligations, and owing debts of gratitude I fear it will never be in our power to cancel. We feel under particular and lasting obligation to Don Pedro Vaca, and family, for their unsolicited attentions. It was to them we were indebted for a bountiful repast, which was prepared and served by the accomplished daughters,

Whose sympathetic smiles chased fatigue away, And changed the night of melancholy into day.

They were beautiful, and unconsciously so. I was at a loss which most to admire, the graceful forms, finely-chiseled features, lustrous eyes, and flowing hair, or that soft winning artlessness, which was so preëminently theirs. There was a daughter-in-law in the family; she was also beautiful, but her beauty was in strong contrast with that of the daughters--she having auburn hair, light eyes, and an alabaster complexion. I here fell in with Capt. B., an “old salt,” who very kindly received my trunk into the cart with his own.

[Illustration: G. V. COOPER DEL. ON STONE BY J. CAMERON LITH. OF G. W. LEWIS 111 NASSAU ST. N. Y. BATHEING AND WASHING CORN, _AT CHINANDAGA_.]