Sacramento daily record-union. [volume] (Sacramento [Calif.]) 1875-1891, 1890-07-12


the altar front, there are hundreds of dol
lars worth of pure silver in bars and rail-
ings, lamps and crucifxes-while most of
the half-naked wretches who kneel before
them never knew in their lives what it is
to have hunger completely satisfied.
The churchyard with its thickets of red
roses is surrounded by high wall of un-
even stones, jutting up here and there
curious little sugar-loaf tower. The bell
tower, overgrown from top to bottom with
ferns and bushes, stands some distance
from the main edifce Climbing the adobe
staircase that winds inside to a somewhat
dangerous perch among the bells and
colony of doves, one may enjoy beautiful
view of the surrounding country.
Being obliged to stop some days in this
village, your correspondent spent most of
her time in the old church. Its inner
walls are blackened by time and leakage.
The square bricks that once fioored it are
mostly worn away, and the roof, of bamboo
woven together, is propped and stayed
overhead by perfect labyrinth of cross
pieces formed of small trees merely
stripped of their bark. The two high,
square apertures that serve for windows,
show the enormous thickness of the walls
and were once furnished with iron bars
which long since rusted away. Along
each side runs an adobe bench, much too
high and damp for comfort, but quite good
enough for its purpose, as here the men
sit at ease while their mothers, wives,
sisters and sweethearts kneel on the dirty
floor praying for their ungrateful lords, as
women will the wide world over.
Opposite the little round pulpit, which
is reached by fight of adobe stairs, and
hung with rich hand-wrought lace, now
tattered and yellow, in a large shrine
painted blue and orange, hangs the bleed
ing figure on the cross, in short but
gorgeous skirt of japanese embroidery on
purple satin. Below stands the Mother of
Sorrows with seven silver-handled daggers
sticking in her heart; and by her side is
St. Joseph, looking the youngest of the
party, in splendid dressing-gown in
wrought with gold. In grotesque incon-
gruity with the massive richness of the
silver altar are the tawdry images upon
it. Among them are two angels with tiny
wings, embroidered pantalettes reaching
the tops of their white shoes, dresses Of
white muslin and ribbon sashes in b.
livia's national colors (red, yellow and
green bound across their breasts. Among
others equally peculiar is a figure Of
Christ mounted on a gaily comparisoned
wooden donkey, dressed as Spanish cav
alier-sombrero, top-boots, rapier and all
about to make his entry into Jerusalem.
On Palm Sunday this image is carried in
procession through the streets of the town
and the people cast their palms before it.
In full belief of some mysterious blessing
Notwithstanding its store of solid silver
of which everybody appears to have for
gotten the value, the church-yard gate
stands open night and day, and the door
of the sanctuary has no lock at all. Oc-
casionally blanketed Indian slouches in
and mutters prayer before the splendid
altar, or bird flies in at the window to
her nest in the bamboo roof, and on SIM
days mass is said by the village cure to a
small congregation of CAolos and Indians;
but fer the most part this moldering
monument of other days is neglected and
forgotten.
One early morning sound of wailing
In the rear of the church attracted F. and
me to the spot. We found group of In
dians, thirty or more, about to lower a
corpse into grave they had dug close up
to the foundation walls. The BODY. that
OF young man, was rolled up in his pom.
cho, with bare feet protruding and bushy
black hair falling over his shoulders.
When laid, cofin-less in the grave, cor
ner of the blanket was spread over his
face and the dirt shoveled on, while the
bystanders howled and shrieked in excess
nf Wha, hn
filled the shoyeler jumped in and stamped
the earth down with his feet to make all
snug; then two or three Indians brought
their ponchos full of large stones, which
were loosely piled on top, and poor little
cross of wild cane, the arms tied on with
bit of string, was set up between the
stones
This completed the interment, but the
performance had hardly begun. If there
is such a thing as ''the luxury of grief"
these lowly people enjoy it to the full and
it is the only luxury that enters into their
wretched lives. Such sobs and cries and
groans | never heard as the women threw
themselves on the ground in frenzy and
the faces of the men were convulsed with
feeling and streaming with tears. To be
sure they were all more or less under the
influence of native alcohol and probably
had been for twenty-four hours or more,
but that is the regular funeral custom
among the Quichuas and their way of
showing respect to the dead.
1t is also their custom when person is
believed to be dying to tie cord tightly
around his neck, with a stick in it. and
then to twist the latter, la garrotte, until
the last breath is forced out of the body.
The explanation is that the devil stands
by, ready to grab the departing soul and
carry it down to purgatory; but by this
choking process the soul is kept in for a
while and his Satanic majesty outwitted
That mistakes sometimes occur and a man
is made to die who otherwise wouldn't.
seems probable.
The mother of the deceased, an old
crone in short dress of blue flannel, bare
feet and gray hair braided down her back,
was the object of universal coincidence
together with the brothers and sisters.
One after another would rush up and en-
brace them and relate some anecdote or
inciden. in the life of him they mourned !;
whereupon the sobs and walls would break
out afresh. Suddenly it seemed to dawn
npon them that two white women, with
compassionate looks, We're standing among
them. For a moment they appeared half
dazed and then most of them threw them
selves on their knees at our feet, with out
stretched arms and imploring words, lin
Quichua, which of course we do not under
stand addressing us as Mama" their
highest term of reverence, it having been
the name of the Sun-god's wife, whom
their ancestors adored. What ideas were
fitting through their darkened minds |
do not know; but hesiglt was too pitiful,
and being unable to say word for their
consolation We scattered among them
every piece of coin We possessed and beat
a hasty retreat.
An hour later | returned to the church.
yard to see how our dusky friends were
getting on with their funeral They had
left the grave and seated themselves under
the shadow of the rose bushes in a circle
on the ground In the center was spread
a cpo III nln.b no-a~,I ,,,tb bn.lol .,,..4c.,.