under which sat the old men around a table on which was scattered popcorn, roast maize, and dishes of succotash. The other men and women squatted on the ground with dishes of succotash and bowls of chicha in front of them. As long as we looked on, all was orderly and quiet except that two musicians with a violin and a primitive old harp were endeavoring to cheer them up.
Soon after dark, in a pouring rain, we passed the high walls of the Ayacucho cemetery, clattered over the cobble-stones of the narrow streets, entered the plaza, and were ushered with a flourish through a stone arch into the courtyard of the hotel. Acting on the orders of the Prefect, the proprietor had reserved for our use an enormous parlor or reception room where at least forty people could be comfortably seated, and a great bedroom of nearly the same dimensions in which were four large bedsteads. Notwithstanding the attractiveness of the hotel bedsteads, such is the perversity of human nature that I decided to use my own little “Gold Medal” folding cot that had served me faithfully for many weeks, and my own blankets which, as they were folded up every morning as soon as I arose and not unfolded until I was ready to sleep, could be relied upon to be free from fleas, etc.
The plaza of Ayacucho is surrounded on three sides with private houses that have arcades supported by stone pillars. The ground floors are taken up with shops, while over the arcades are balconies that lead to the principal rooms of the dwelling houses. Our hotel had been once occupied by one of the principal families of the town and was a good specimen of the old Spanish method of building. It had a large courtyard from which a flight of stone steps led up to the galleries, and was ornamented by potted plants and caged birds.
Hardly had we examined our rooms when we received a call from the Prefect, Don Gaspar Mauro Cacho, a tall, finely proportioned Peruvian with a remarkable sense of humor and an unfailing store of courtesy. On the following day he took upon himself to show us the sights of the town, including the fine old cathedral, the large public market, clean and well kept, the picturesque old churches, and the Prefecture, a large double quadrangle where were located the offices of the Department, the barracks of the few troops stationed here, and the rooms allotted for the use of himself and his family.
His wife and children had arrived from Lima not many months previous, and the terrors of the overland journey were vividly in their minds. His señora assured me that she had feared she would never reach Ayacucho alive, notwithstanding the fact that the government had made every possible provision for their comfort on the journey. One of the “guides” lost his way, and they were quartered at an abandoned tambo where there was nothing to eat or drink and no firewood. Having lived in Lima all their lives, they felt the discomforts keenly. It was an interesting commentary on the state of the roads that even a Prefect could not be sure that his family would travel with a moderate degree of comfort.
I had sometimes felt that the life of an official in Peru was as easy as the life of the poor Indians was hard, but I had to reverse that opinion before leaving the country. While the Prefects are appointed directly by the President and are responsible only to him, they are likely to be considered troublesome by the local magistrates who, although elected by the citizens, exercise very limited prerogatives. Were it not for the dozen or more soldiers that take their orders directly from the Prefect, he would often be in a precarious position. He must govern as well as he can, and yet if he does not make himself popular with the people of the city in which he lives, his lot is not at all an easy one. With such men as the Prefects whom we met in Arequipa, Abancay, and Ayacucho, the central government is fortunate in being able to be sure that the power which it delegates to them will be used firmly and wisely and without causing friction.