Before one o’clock we were in Quezaltenango, having walked six leagues in four hours and a half, excluding stops. The Hotel de Europe proved very comfortable, and the table was good. The Cerro Quemado (Burned Mountain), just overhanging the city, was a more attractive volcano than the loftier Santa Maria; and I longed for time to climb to the broken crater from whose blackened sides the huge lava-stream had descended towards the city (the ancient Exancul), turned suddenly when almost upon the outer walls, and then stopped forever.
The market-place was very attractive; for besides the bustle of the builders, who were piling up the cut and sculptured stone of the most imposing public edifice I have seen in Guatemala, the many cloth-merchants exhibited their brilliantly colored merchandise to great advantage. This is the centre of the trade in native cloths; and many beautiful and durable fabrics are woven here and in the neighborhood from cotton and wool. The stone generally used in building comes from the volcanoes back of the town, and is a light-brown lava. The Plaza is double,—one half bounded by the church of San Juan de Dios, the stone penitentiary, and shops; and its space is occupied by a garden surrounded by a wall of carved stone and provided with stone seats. A pond in the midst has a pavilion, or band-stand, on an island. The other half of the Plaza is paved, and used as a market-place; here are the new buildings for the Government.
Near by the hotel I saw a sign, of which I made a note, thinking to profit thereby; but Frank saw it more clearly than I did, and knocked all the romance out of it. To my first glance it read, “Collection of Young Ladies,”
COLEGIO NAL. DE SEÑORITAS
but to the critical eye of my fidus Achates it was simply a National Seminary of Young Ladies; so we did not venture to explore it.
The church of San Juan de Dios was large, and the façade ornate,—worthy the principal church in a city of twenty-five thousand inhabitants. The old organ, of four octaves, had been recently painted; and in the two towers hung seven bells,—three bound to the beams with rawhide, as usual, the others on yokes. The cloisters adjoining this church[21] were interesting, from the multitude of curious paintings they contained, mostly of Scriptural histories; and in them Christ was always represented as a shaven monk, with the girdle of the Cordeliers. In the old lumber-room of the church were the remains of an ancient organ, and heads, bodies, and arms of saints,—not relics, but the membra disjecta of the dolls that are put together and dressed up on holy-days. We had often seen similar places, which Frank called “property-rooms;” in one we found boxes of wigs and beards, and in another a figure of Christ with permanently bent legs, and staples in his ankles to strap him on to the mule on Palm Sunday! It was both amusing and pitiful to see the trash used for religious purposes.
Church at Quezaltenango.
We went to the National Institute and saw very good dormitories for the young men who study here. In preparation for an expected visit of the President, lanterns were hung along the colonnades, and blue and white (the national colors) met the eye on every side. There was something homelike in the narrow, crooked streets,—so different from the tasteless rectangles of most other Guatemaltecan cities. Then, too, they were clean, well paved, and provided with sidewalks,—in some places, where they were very steep, with bridges over the gutters, which in rainy weather must be torrents. Street-lamps and letter-boxes, plenty of fountains (and the water is cold and excellent), gave an air of civilized comfort very agreeable to us. The houses were well built, and usually had the window and door-jambs of sculptured stone. There were plenty of windows, and the gates were often ajar, revealing flowers and fountains in many courtyards. Peach-trees were in blossom, and also bore half-ripe fruit. In the suburb Cienega is a picturesque washing-place, or lavadero, where an artist has many a chance for sketching the Indias.