in fact, I thought sometimes that I was again among the hills along the Juniata. We passed around the mountain Pizzarios, at the top of which we saw a large cross on the top of a high rock; and about half way up the mountain stood a church with a big cross on top, surrounded with a fancy fence made or planted of maguey plants. The question was asked, how do the people get up there to worship? Seeing no road leading to it, some remarked "that possibly they might go up in a balloon."
To-day on our march, we passed several crosses planted in the ground on the side of the National road; in fact, we have noticed these crosses ever since we left Vera Cruz, planted along the road, and all wondered what they meant. I noticed that the Mexican men, but more particularly the women and the poor class in general, when they pass by these crosses, or in fact, some before they come to it, make some kind of Catholic signs, and the women mostly kneel before the cross and say a prayer, and some put flowers and wreaths on the cross.
We were told that these crosses are to indicate that some passenger or traveler had been murdered in cold blood, and that they had been placed there in memory of the bloody deeds of the past.
Our march to-day was a good deal like yesterday, over level plains and table lands which were mostly uncultivated, except now and then we saw a field of barleycorn. The road was very dusty; but within a few miles of our encampment it commenced to rain. We marched along rapidly in the pelting rain until we came to a small town and a stream of water called Ojo de Aqua (the eye of water).
In the evening the rain increased and continued so all night; and having no tents or shelter but the stormy and clouded heavens, I made a rush to get under some wagons, which kept a little rain off me, and the mules did not annoy me very much, as they were no doubt a little like myself, tired, and mighty glad to get a chance to rest. Oh, how many of
