The Glenwood post., 1911-11-04

the only man of any education in the village, but
two highways and several byways converge at
Alante and every few days he might look for a
passiag visit from some intelligent traveller. His
duties occupied three four hours of the day
and the rest of the time he filled in with study,
for his ambition pointed to advancement in his
calling, whilst his environment had awakened an
inherent taste for natural history.
We left the table to walk over to the church.
with its curious detached tower. I asked for the
records With righteous Indignation blazing in his
eyes the little cura laid before pile of leath-
er-covered manuscripts, nodded, worm-eaten, and
torn Not a page was intact hardly two consecu
tive lines legible
Such neglect is crime" said my host fer.
vently. 81 need hardly say that the damage was
beyond arrest when these came into my hands"
| fully appreciated his feelings. Indeed, dare
say that my own regret was the keener. Aanje
is older than David In fact, its history merges
with the times of the Conquistadores and there is
knowing what wondrous tales may be hidden
in those sadly mutilaed documents.
Our church has legend" remarked the cura,
leading me to large alcove the left of the
chancel Drawing aside curtain, he revealed a
life sized painting of the Christ in his final agony
1t evidently the work of artist. but did
not betray extraordinary ability.
Il don't know when this here but it
certainly before the present generation" the
explained, with slight show of embarrass-
ment. THE story goes that evening a
stranger came to the village and, declining shell
ter elsewhere begged to be locked alone in the
church over night. His request was granted
When the curious villagers came early in the
morning to look for him he had gone, and the pic
ture with the paint fresh and wet. hung where
you it"
| looked at the little cura questioningly.
"Oh, don't know he said, with shame
faced smile and shrug of the shoulders. "At
any rate, my people believe the story firmly. and
1t does them no harm"
On the road between Alanje and Divala we
crossed several streams. A better watered coun
try than this could not well be imagined.
Divala is little settlement of SO to 60 huts
and perhaps 300 inhabitants, who entirely
dependent upon the ranch and insure 1t
stant supply of labor The people cultivate little
patches, from which they derive almost all the
foodstuffs they need few weeks work in the
year at 60 cents day will produce enough money
for clothing and moderate indulgence In the
luxuries that to be had at the village trading
store.
Divala is Is miles from anywhere, but the mos,
unlikely place to look for an American family in
a bungalow that has the appearance of having
been transplanted from a New Jersey suburb
Mrs. Wilson has lived in this out-of-theway cor
of the earth for five years. and has had the
companionship of her infant during the past
eighteen months. There is not a woman of her
own race within 40 miles This is isolation, in
deed. and | suspected that she find it irk-
some though she would not admit much
Twelve years ago Leslie Wilson out from
California and settled in the neighborhood of Di-
vala with half dozen Americans and Brtishers.
Thus the settlement of Dvala formed and a
large proportion of the ranch turned into Potrero
without penny of outlay. The disturbed condi-
ton of the country reduced the prices of all prop
erty. and Wilson was able to buy the nucleus Of
his stock at very low figures.
The owner of Divala has worked hard and in
telligently for ten years the improvement of
his property. Today he has 5000 acres of as fine
land any in Chiriqui. well stocked and fur
nished with all the necessary buildings. The
ranch is easily worth $4,000. Not a bad result
Of enterprise started twelve years ago with
5000 capital.