The Caucasian. (Clinton, N.C.) 188?-1913, 1893-04-27

,,,,.x.~ a r-ae, note as il were. broke
upon its even tones;
.Kulcan. my son. the beating OF my
heart grows feeble. and this day the
greatest. most sacred in the year, may
h, NV last. For a hundred ana TWO
wears / have seen the sun rise over the
r,.I cliffs. bat tomorrow | may not see
1, Tins | feel that now. while my
strength remains In me, should leave
~, my last words of instruction and
advice. You will succeed me as high
Driest. and there is no one more worthy
no one to whom would leave the cares
and tie houors of my sacred once more
willingly nor more fearlessiy. Iooas
rs Won well know, | was to make the
holy sacrifice To the sun, the sacrihce OF
the Thirteenth Year, yet my strength
fails me. and You, my son, shall perform
tho sacred rite. No one but myself for
eiChtv-five years has shed the biooa Oh
the virgin sacrifice, and yet It's with q
cheerful heart lay the Office down. AT
noon mt on the holy robe, and, as you
alone have been instructed, perform the
rite that our people may be held to-
gether and their religion be preserved.
The hand against Iklapel's bosom was
trembling. and Kulcan's figure shook
with the emotion he endeavored 10 sup
press. For some moments he appeared
unable TO reply. Then placing his hand
upcn the old mans shoulder he said:
My father, you tell me TO perform
,l,o I,o+ opr ,,..nyAla may ha held
gether and their religion preserved.
Why not say that the sun god may be
mcrciful TO us and preserve our people"
His voice had bitter, sarcastic ring,
and the old man replied quickly:
''Oh, Kulcan, you will not learn the
lesson l have striven so diligently to
teach. Know that the people are not rs
we are and cannot be lifted to the level
of our knowledge. You, who have been
initiated into the mysteries and dwelt in
the higher atmosphere of lofty thought,
do not realize the distance between their
and our conception of religion. Among
all the priests to you alone have l dared
to reveal my inward thoughts and true
beliefs, but it was because | saw in you,
as in the dead governor, your father, the
spirit of philosophic reason, as well as
the tact to bow to popular prejudice in
religious matters. have spoken to you
as to my own soul. You know that
despise the images of the god and wor-
ship him, as have taught you, without
fires or feasts or sacrifices; but you know
that the people require these signs and
symbols to keep them true to their obedi-
ence; that It's thus we rule them and not
with reason or philosophy. IT'S the
tribute they pay to intellect-the tribute
they have paid for countless ages and
must in some form continue to pay"
But It's time" impulsively interrupt
ed Ku1can, THAT they were brought to
see that these cruel, inhuman sacrifices
should be abolished. Something, know
not what, tells Inc that we are beyond
and above them now, and that the people
themselves will welcome the change and
rejoice that their children no longer may
be thrown to the senseless image of the
fierce, bloodthirsty sun god! Oh, father"
he cried, shuddering, "can we not devise,
before it is forever too late, some means
to prevent this murder of Ainee?'
at is even now too late" answered
the aged priest coldly. "Can you not see
with what feverish impotence the peo-
pie await the light of this day? They
know their children are safe now that
the lot has fallen on the girl Aimee, and
they thirst for the spectacle for which
they have waited thirteen years. Today
they believe Quetzalcoatl, with his dove
hiC hon1 xr,i11
day for ages they have looked for him.
In vain will they look; he will not re-
turn, but they must have their sacrifice,
or their wrath will turn upon the priests,
and we shall perish. Upon it rests our
very existence. Murmurs have already
been heard against us-we are called
idlers and bread eaters of the poor. It is
our only hope, and upon you it will rest
today. Were it only question of my
life or your life alone, would willingly
die; but we cannot prevent the slaughter
by our deaths.
s'Alas, my son. (the old mans voice
softened and quivered), 'stime brings but |
the same tale. Eighty long years ago l,
too, loved maiden as you, know-nay.
start not-love Aimee; yet she was
chosen, and this withered hand plunged |
the sacred knife into her throat. Her |
eyes were on me as she fell upon nv |
breast-they are with me now! | killed |
her, and when the day was done | |
the cliff and wandered out upon |
the desert plains which lie about the |
city in search of some other land. For
days roamed, returning for water and |
food, and then starting anew in other |
directions, as you, too, have done, in a
spirit OF discovery, and finding, as Won |
nave done, that we are alone in the |
world-a city in desert-the remnants
Of once great people, returned to nv
duties, and since that day have been
the most Jealous in guarding the tradi-
tlonaI customs of our religion"
But, my father, we have the power.
u we VIII, to prevent this horrid sacri-
ice today! Some plausible excuse can
be offered to the credulous people. and
IN animal perhaps be substituted for the
beautiful maiden"
IL IS TOO late, even were willing"
replied the aged priest. "As is the Gus
,om when the feast of the Thirteenth
ear approaches, all prodigies in nature.
N the skies and on the earth, are eagerly
,egarded as omens of good or evil. The
olrtn or the six horned calf has been az.
'epeea by the priests and the people as
IN evil sign, and the terrific storm of
asst night will have wrought their fears
% hlgher pitch. And now l will reveal
o you cause OF secret uneasiness and
'reat fear even to me.
Last night, as the storm ragged with
iury have not often seen, there came
blast that shook the temple, and there
eemed to sweep over my head some
h1ng' know not what, but felt its
ouch as though long, slender threads
rushed by me, and out of the clond
mere came loud voice in wailing; then
passed, but | heard tho vo;ca-a