Around us on the mountain-top were spruce-trees of immense size, four feet in diameter, and pines two feet larger; and beneath these giants of the forest flocks of black sheep were feeding, watched by shepherdesses not many shades lighter. As black cloth is much worn by the Indios, they cultivate the black sheep rather than pay the dyer. Cactus on pine-trees, crimson sage, and a minute violet not an inch high, were novelties by the roadside. Not a few of the pine-trees had been hacked with machetes until a considerable niche was formed in the stem; and the pitch dripping into this receptacle was then fired to light a camp. We found no villages on this road, but we were seldom out of sight of some herdsman’s hovel. Late in the afternoon we came to the brow of the cliff that bounds the immense valley of Totonicapan on the east. The sun was low on the horizon before us, but I was absorbed in the beauty of this grand view. On our left a waterfall dashed over the rocks; below us were the white walls of the Indian City we had so greatly wished to see; roads and streams traversed the valley; and the whole surface, as well as the slopes far up the hills, was cut into numerous fields of wheat and maiz of many shades of green and brown. Far in the distance smoke rose over Quezaltenango, and the broad highway between was plainly visible for many miles. My mozo was close at hand, and in ten minutes I had two photographs caught in my box; after which we began the very steep descent.
We found lodging at the Hotel de la Concordia. Our little room contained three board bedsteads and one wash-stand. Usually we had no wash-stand, but either performed our ablutions at the courtyard fountain, or else had our valet Santiago pour water over us from a calabash.
As we had a letter to the Jefe, David Carney, I went at once to present it, in order to get our animals for the next stage as soon as possible. We found his house,—a fine one, the best in the town, with beautiful roses in the neat courtyard; but the Jefe himself was a dumpy little Indio, stupid and fat, who could say little else than “Si, Señor.” After some delay he promised us two mules in the morning. In his parlor I noticed a fine piano, evidently in use; and there was a decided air of comfort about the house,—probably due to the lady rather than the lord.
That night was very cold, and in the morning at seven o’clock the thermometer told forty-five degrees, and the barometer stood at 8,860 feet. As usual, we went to church; this was the largest and cleanest we had yet seen, but the images, including an Indio-colored Christ, were perhaps more hideous than ever. The church has now the old Plaza (north of the new one) all to itself, and in addition a very large paved courtyard, with square chapels in the outer corners. In this courtyard we found a troop of Indian women conducting some mummery which required veils and candles, both of great size. Some of the poor women were so tipsy that they could hardly care for their candles, which were perilously near to setting their neighbors’ clothes on fire. After various marches and counter-marches, songs and responses, the performance ended in a loud explosion. Of all the Indian towns, Totonicapan is supposed to be the most Indian, and the people are thorough idolaters still, with hardly the dimmest idea of the Christian religion. They moreover dislike foreigners, as we found to our cost. The fountain and sun-dial in the old Plaza were both much out of repair, and in the Plaza Nueva the fountain supported a traditional Indian fresh from the shield of Massachusetts. Made originally, as other men are, without clothes, he had been girt with stucco,—doubtless because of the cool weather and his damp station.
THE VALLEY OF TOTONICAPAN.
Generally the streets were paved, and drained in the middle. They intersected at right angles; and as the houses had few outside windows and the courtyard gates were almost always closed, the town had a very dull, deserted look. We did peep into some doors and windows, in a way I should hardly tolerate in any other barbarian; and by one of these window-peeps we discovered a weaver at work, who invited us to enter. The loom had two harnesses worked by the foot of the weaver, and twelve more pulled by a boy at the side; the bobbins were wound on bits of small bambu. It was a long way back in the series of the evolution of a modern carpet-loom, and yet it did its work exceedingly well, if slowly. This art of weaving has been practised in this city from most ancient times, and the Indios declare that the same utensils have been used, without essential modification. All the looms we saw were on one pattern, and they could hardly have been simpler. I bought for four dollars a large woollen bed-cover woven in elaborate design, which kept us warm while we were in these highlands.
We called on the Jefe again as he was marrying several couples, and he repeated his promise to procure mules for us before one o’clock; so we left him for a while and strolled about town and found a potter at work. He used both white and dark clay, and his wheel and kiln were similar to those in use with us. At two the mules had not arrived, and we declared the Jefe a liar. Frank must have called on him twenty times, besides the visits of ceremony we made together three times a day. After a while two alcaldes came to our room and begged us to go to the cabildo and inspect the mules they had captured for us. Another failure; for there was not one fit to carry our burden. Then they brought two to the hotel,—one a pack-mule that refused to be saddled; then a mozo came quite drunk, and wanted a dollar to carry our baggage to Quezaltenango. We told him to go to the diablo, and he went; and so the day wore away.
On Sunday morning we went to the Plaza, captured a mozo without the intervention of the authorities, and started on foot for Quezaltenango. The weather was clear and cool, like a fine October day in New England; and there was white frost on the lowlands. At first we dropped rapidly down, and then came to a fine carriage-road, in some places a hundred feet wide. Except the steep descent at the city limits, and an equally steep ascent about half a league beyond, the road was level, and bordered with agaves, some now in bud.
Just before we came to Salcaja we had a fine view of the plain where Alvarado fought so desperately, was wounded, and finally conquered the brave mountaineers. Though conquered then, they certainly need another Alvarado now. A pale mist covered the distant city, but above it towered the volcano Santa Maria,—a cone as regular as those of Sololà. Northward we saw San Cristobal and San Francisco,—two pleasantly situated towns. We crossed a river which flows into the Pacific at San Luis; so the backbone of the continent was passed, and we were on the slopes of the setting sun. We ordered our almuerzo in a little shop, and as we waited for it we watched the customers,—among them mozos, mostly for aguardiente, women for eggs, spices, chillis, and cord. Beggars came also, and among them an idiot girl (the only one of this class we had seen in the republic); one received a drink, another a handful of red peppers, and others food.