offspring of an earthquake, which, bursting from the bosom of the earth, changed the whole face of the country, for a considerable distance round.
"And now, the glee
Of the loud hills shakes with its mountain mirth,
As if they did rejoice o'er a young earthquake's birth."
Here the earth returned that salutation, and shook, though it was with fearful mirth, as the birth of the young volcano.
In a letter written at the time of this event to the Bishop of Michioacan by the curate of the neighboring village, he says, that the eruption finished by destroying the hacienda of Jorullo, and killing the trees, which were thrown down and buried in the sand and ashes vomited by the mountain. The fields and roads were, he says, covered with sand, the crops destroyed, and the flocks perishing for want of food; unable to drink the pestilential water of the mountains. The rivulet that ran past his village, was swelled to a mighty river that threatened to innundate it; and he adds, that the houses, churches and hospitals are ready to fall down from the weight of the sand and the ashes—and that "the very people are so covered with the sand, that they seem to have come out of some sepulchre." The great eruptions of the volcano continued till the following year, but have gradually become rarer, and at present have ceased.
Having now brought our journey to its furthest limits, I shall conclude this letter.
