Sacramento daily record-union., 1888-11-17

occupancy by some long-forgotten Indian
tribe, and is supposed to have connected
the Cartago region with the port of Ma
tena. The road is twelve feet wide, paved
with well-rounded blocks of lava stone,
protected on both sides by sloping wall,
Of the same material, three feet high. So
far as traced, it appears to have had no
bridges, and to have taken almost a straight
line. Wherever river or ravine intercepts
it, the road descends by a series of massive
deep-cut steps, and in the same way
| mounts the opposite bank or cliff. There
Spaniards brought them, the Indians be-
ing their own beasts of burden and bear
ing their Kings and mobiles about in Iitters.
Father Acuna says that this causeway is a
broken link of that great chain of roads
which trayersed the country from Mica
| ragua to Panama, centuries before white
man ever saw these shores. He believes
that populous empire fourished in Costa
RIca in days so remote that not even ira
dition of them exists; and that the chief
seat of this empire stood where to-day
may be found the obscure, small-poxed
hamlet of Turraba-an opinion which
other archeologlsts consider to have been
substantially proved. The immense plain
of Turraba is Tricky dotted with tumuli
and abounds in strange relics, and the wise
padre asserts that were the country but par
TALLY explored, plenty of memorials would
come to light of the crested and pillared
city that once stood among those lonely
mountains.
Green and glorious as is the valley of
Cartago, that Of Orosi surpasses it. Gazing
from the hills of Paraiso away down to
the white ruins of Uiurras (the oldest
footprints of the Spaniards in these soli-
tudes) one is awed by the imensity of
the encircling mountains and spellbound
as in dream. Far below the hurrying
waters of the three rivers-Agua Caliente,
Naranjo and Nuvaro-rush into the Rio
Grande, the latter being broad, swift
stream, whose sea-green, foam -hecked tide
divides the valley. Thence, many miles
| beyond, the mighty river loses itself in one
of those fierce torrents to which the vol
canic heights have given birth.
While descending to the lower regions
even the drivers whip was unemployed,
and the horses picked their way with care
down the steep declivities, it being a seri-
Gus question which would reach the bot
tom first-the coach, the animals or the
outside passengers. At length, peering
out from between hills covered with gor-
geous parasites and fe tooned with trailing
vines, appeared that celebrated but suspi-
cious looking hammock bridge" the
proudest work of the Orosi Indians, which
none can cross except on foot, for at each
end is a lofty ladder. Four upright posts
of the hardest timber, two on each side of
the river, are placed four feet apart, and
these rude piers are connected by ropes of
iron wire. Durable as are the posts. the
Indians renew them every third year, be-
cause when the river is turbid and swollen
there is no other way to get out of the
valley than by this veritable Al Sirat.
Fortunately for us, the stream is fordable
at this time of year; but few weeks later
wide detour must be made to less pict-
uresque and more accessible bridge.
A dozen huts, built of the ffimsiest ma
terials, are all that remains of the ancient
village and mission of Orosi, besides the
moldy church and long-decayed convent,
the aforementioned buildings being exactly
202 years old. In lS4l, while houses and
trees were tumbling around in all direc-
tions and the very hills were rent asunder
by the violence of the earthquake, this
church and convent alone stood firm
miraculously preserved, the missionaries
said, but apparently for no purpose, unless
as reward for the good before accom-
plished. The ancient sanctuary. with its
grass-grown root, Shiny walls, slippery
floors and odor of the tombs beneath. is
still full of antique treasures. There are
dozens of tall silver candlesticks golden
cruciixes, six feet high, and magnificent
lamp, said to contain thirty pounds of solid
silver. There are splendid reliquaries, in
laid with pearls and rubies, Illuminated
missals, clasped with gold and studded
with diamonds, and, strange to say, all
this wealth seems perfectly safe, though
left unlocked in the lonesome wilderness.
The poor Indians of Orosi are thievishly
inclined toward all profane things, but the
superstitions of the sanctuary are stronger
even than their necessities and native cum
ming. Hungry, dirty and ugly, they do
nothing for living, knowing no more
about the affairs of their own land than of
Patagonia, and apparently unconscious
that the world exists beyond that in view.
In the center of this valley the tremen-
duous falls of Macko leap three hundred
feet without a break. The neighboring
Indians will tell you that an enchanted
bwro donkey lives in the little basin into
which these wild waters plunge, and that
every night he swims ashore laden with
sacks of gold and silver, climbs the steep
rocks which overhang the cataract, thence,
speeding like the wind through the dense
forest, deposits his burden in some far
away cavern which man has never discov-
ered-and probably never will
Next, crossing the valley of Ujarras,
then skirting the Servantes mountains, we
descend again into the lowlands, leaving
laurels and pines behind us, for oranges,
mangoes, orchids innumerable and a will
derness of beautiful vegetation Looking
backward, at last, from the valley, we be-
hold the great White Towers" volcano,
like sheeted ghost against the sky, its
pillars of fire and smoke skirted with for
ests of palm. That volcano-remote, in
accessible, mysterious and awe-inspiring-
is an ever-present terror to the people. So
incessant is its burning agony, that no hu-
man foot has scaled its sides, none dare
to venture within miles of its base, for the
natives believe that terrible demon has
his home within the shadowy palms Of
that primeval forest and that whoever
comes within his reach is lost forever.
FANNIE B. WARD.
Ultramarfne.