CHAPTER V.
AN INDIAN FUNERAL—COPAN RIVER—WOMAN'S KINDNESS—HACIENDA OF SAN ANTONIO—STRANGE CUSTOMS—A MOUNTAIN OF ALOE—THE STATE OF HONDURAS—VILLAGE OF COPAN—AN UNGRACIOUS HOST—WALL OF COPAN—HISTORY OF COPAN—FIRST VIEW OF THE RUINS—VAIN SPECULATIONS—APPLICATIONS FOR MEDICINE—SEARCH FOR AN ABODE—A SICK WOMAN—PLAGUES OF A MULETEER—AN UNPLEASANT SITUATION—A THUNDER STORM—THOUGHTS OF BUYING COPAN.
Turning away from the church, we passed the brow of a hill, behind which was a collection of huts almost concealed from sight, and occupied by our friends of the night before. Very soon we commenced ascending a mountain. At a short distance we met a corpse borne on a rude bier of sticks, upon the shoulders of Indians, naked except a piece of cotton cloth over the loins, and shaking awfully under the movements of its carriers. Soon after we met another, borne in the same way, but wrapped in matting, and accompanied by three or four men and a young woman. Both were on their way to the graveyard of the village church. Ascending, we reached the top of a mountain, and saw behind us a beautiful valley extending toward Jocotan, but all waste, and suggesting a feeling of regret that so beautiful a country should be in such miserable hands.
At half-past twelve we descended to the banks of the Copan River. It was broad and rapid, and in the middle was a large sandbar. We had difficulty in fording it; and some of the baggage, particularly the beds and bedding, got wet. From the opposite side we again commenced ascending another ridge, and from the top saw the river winding through the valley. As we crossed, by a sudden turn it flowed along the base, and we looked directly down upon it. Descending this mountain, we came to a beautiful stream, where a grey-haired Indian woman and a pretty little girl, pictures of youth and old age, were washing clothes. We dismounted, and sat down on the bank to wait for the muleteer. I forgot to mention that he had with him a boy about thirteen or fourteen years old, a fine little fellow, upon whom he imposed the worst part of the burden, that of chasing the mules, and who really seemed, like Baron Munchausen's dog, in danger of running his legs off.
Our breach with the muleteer had not been healed, and at first we ascribed to him some agency in our troubles at Comotan. At all events, if it had not been for him, we should not have stopped there. All day he had been particularly furious with the mules, and they had
