Two days before, we had sent word to the authorities at Cuquila, that we should breakfast with them on our way back to Tlaxiaco, and ordered them to be ready for our coming. This was the opportunity which had been promised them for redeeming themselves and avoiding complaint to their jefe. Arriving at the town at 9:40, we were met at the roadside by some of the officials, who led us at once to the town-house. Here the whole town government was gathered to greet us; politely each one, stepping forward, removed his hat and kissed my hand; they then invited us to sit down at the table and breakfast,—whereupon eggs, chicken, tortillas and frijoles—the best the town could supply—were set before us. The whole government sat by, looking on as we ate.
Immediately after breakfast, in accordance with our order previously sent, we were taken to see a potter at work. Cuquila is famous for two lines of manufacture, pottery and woolen garments. The pottery here made is skillfully shaped into wonderfully large vessels of different forms. The product goes throughout this whole district, and even down to the Pacific coast, a hundred miles distant. Along the roads it is a common thing to meet parties of three or four men carrying great loads of water-jars, large bowls, etc., for sale or trade. While we were inspecting the potter's work, a slight shock of earthquake, almost too gentle to be noticed, passed through the place.
At Cuquila, we found that we should not meet Señor Cordova at Tlaxiaco. He had passed through the town the night before, on his way to Juxtlahuaca, with a band of soldiers to assist his neighboring jefe in maintaining order.
Leaving our Cuquila reprobates in friendly and gentle mood, we started for Tlaxiaco, where we arrived at half-past two. Something after four o'clock, we heard a violent ringing of the church-bell and saw the people flocking out onto the streets; looking up at the church-tower, although we did not feel the shock, we saw that the whole church was being violently shaken, and that the ringing bells, which we had heard, were not moved by human hands. This third shock of the day was more strongly felt in other districts, than with us. In the City of Mexico, three hundred miles away, it was the most severe of the day.
VIEW AT CHICAHUASTLA
The whole town was in commotion; people threw themselves upon their knees in the streets and prayed to the Virgin for protection. Later in the day, we saw a priest and a saint's figure passing through the streets, and as they passed the people paid reverence. Surely the little procession, illegal though it was, must have been successful, for there were no further shocks. We found here a most interesting superstition, which we had not met before, but which we heard several times later, in other districts. We were assured that the earthquake was but one of many signs that the world was coming to an end. We discovered that thousands of the people expected the ending of the world in 1900, and when we asked why, were reminded that this was the last year of the century. This is certainly a survival of ancient superstition. The old Mexicans did not count their years by hundreds or centuries, as we do, but by cycles of 52 years each. It was believed that the world would come to an end at the close of a cycle, and important ceremonies were conducted to avert such a catastrophe. It is clear that the old idea, of the destruction of the world at the close of a cycle, has been transferred to the new mode of reckoning time.
From Tlaxiaco to Teposcolula, there was a cart-road, though it was possible that no carreta ever passed over it. It presented little good scenery. We passed the pueblos of San Martin Jilmeca, San Felipe, and San Miguel. Just before reaching the first of these towns, the road passes over a coarse rock mass, which weathers into spheroidal shells. At Jilmeca and some other points along the day's route the rock over which we passed was a white tufaceous material loaded with streaks of black flint. Sometimes this black flint passes into chert and chalcedony of blue and purple tints. Here and there, along the mountain sides, we caught glimpses of rock exposures, which looked snow-white in the distance. Between Jilmeca and San Felipe there was a pretty brook, with fine cypresses along the banks, and a suspension bridge of great logs. Having passed through San Felipe and San Miguel, a pleasant road, through a gorge, brought us to the valley in which Teposcolula lies. The great convent church, historically interesting, is striking in size and architecture. The priest, an excellent man, is a pure-blooded Mixtec indian, talking the language as his mother tongue. With great pride he showed us about the building, which was once a grand Dominican monastery. The old carved wooden cupboard for gold and silver articles, used in the church service, is fine work. The gold and silver articles for which it was built have long since disappeared. In the patio are many old paintings, most of which are badly damaged, and some of which have been repaired with pieces cut from other pictures, not at all like the missing piece. Among these pictures is a series of scenes from the life of Santo Domingo. Of the figures in the church, two are fairly good; one, which is famous, represents Our Lady of the Rosary. In a little chapel are buried the remains of the old friars; here also is a beautiful old carved confessional. In front of the old church is a great court surrounded by a stone wall, which is surmounted here and there with little, pointed, square pillars. To the right of the church is a mass of masonry, in reddish-brown freestone, consisting of a series of arches, now more or less in ruins. When the convent was at the height of its splendor, the crowd of worshippers was too large for the church itself, and these beautiful arches were erected to receive the overflow. In the church itself, the plaster in the domes of the towers and the coloring on the walls and domes had chipped and fallen, on account of the earthquake, the day before. In the ruins of the upper rooms of the convent proper, stone and mortar, dislodged from the decaying walls by the same shocks, lay in little heaps on the floor.
TRIQUI CHILDREN; CHICAHUASTLA