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[Illustration: THE AUTHOR AND HIS GUIDES THREE FAITHFUL MEN]




THROUGH FIVE REPUBLICS ON HORSEBACK

BEING AN ACCOUNT OF MANY WANDERINGS IN SOUTH AMERICA


BY


G. WHITFIELD RAY, F. R. G. S. Pioneer Missionary and Government Explorer


With an Introduction by the Rev. J. G. Brown, D. D. Secretary for the
Foreign Missions of the Canadian Baptist Church


TWELFTH EDITION--REVISED

EVANGELICAL PUBLISHING HOUSE C. HAUSER, Agent CLEVELAND, OHIO, U. S. A.
1915




[Illustration: SOUTH AMERICA]




PREFACE

The _Missionary Review of the World_ has described South America as THE
DARKEST LAND. That I have been able to penetrate into part of its
unexplored interior, and visit tribes of people hitherto untouched and
unknown, was urged as sufficient reason for the publishing of this
work. In perils oft, through hunger and thirst and fever, consequent on
the many wanderings in unhealthy climes herein recorded, the writer
wishes publicly to record his deep thankfulness to Almighty God for His
unfailing help. If the accounts are used to stimulate missionary
enterprise, and if they give the reader a clearer conception of and
fuller sympathy with the conditions and needs of those South American
countries, those years of travel will not have been in vain.

"Of the making of books there is no end," so when one is acceptably
received, and commands a ready sale, the author is satisfied that his
labor is well repaid. The 4th edition was scarcely dry when the
Consul-General of the Argentine Republic at Ottawa ordered a large
number of copies to send to the members of his Government. Much of it
has been translated into German, and I know not what other languages.
Even the _Catholic Register_ of Toronto has boosted its sale by
printing much in abuse of it, at the same time telling its readers that
the book "sold like hot cakes." A wiser editor would have been discreet
enough not to refer to "Through Five Republics on Horseback." His
readers bought it, and--had their eyes opened, for the statements made
in this work, and the authorities quoted, are unanswerable.

Seeing that there is such an alarming ignorance regarding Latin
America, I have, for this edition, written an Introductory Chapter on
South America, and also a short Foreword especially relating to each of
the Five Republics here treated. As my portrayal of Romanism there has
caused some discussion, I have, in those pages, sought to incorporate
the words of other authorities on South American life and religion.

That the following narratives, now again revised, and sent forth in new
garb, may be increasingly helpful in promoting knowledge, is the
earnest wish of the author.

G. W. R.

Toronto, Ont.




INTRODUCTION

"Through Five Republics on Horseback" has all the elements of a great
missionary book. It is written by an author who is an eye-witness of
practically all that he records, and one who by his explorations and
travels has won for himself the title of the "Livingstone of South
America." The scenes depicted by the writer and the glimpses into the
social, political and religious conditions prevailing in the Republics
in the great Southern continent are of thrilling interest to all lovers
of mankind. We doubt if there is another book in print that within the
compass of three hundred pages begins to give as much valuable
information as is contained in Mr. Ray's volume. The writer wields a
facile pen, and every page glows with the passion of a man on fire with
zeal for the evangelization of the great "Neglected Continent." We are
sure that no one can read this book and be indifferent to the claims of
South America upon the Christian Church of this generation.

To those who desire to learn just what the fruits of Romanism as a
system are, when left to itself and uninfluenced by Protestantism, this
book will prove a real eye-opener. We doubt if any Christian man, after
reading "Through Five Republics on Horseback," will any longer conclude
that Romanism is good enough for Romanists and that Missions to Roman
Catholic countries are an impertinence. We trust the book will awaken a
great interest in the evangelization of the Latin Republics of South
America.

Of course, this volume will have interest for others besides missionary
enthusiasts. Apart from the religious and missionary purpose of the
book, it contains very much in the way of geographical, historical and
scientific information, and that, too, in regard to a field of which as
yet comparatively little is known. The writer has kept an open mind in
his extensive travels, and his record abounds in facts of great
scientific value.

We have known Mr. Ray for several years and delight to bear testimony
to his ability and faithfulness as a preacher and pastor. As a lecturer
on his experiences in South America he is unexcelled. We commend
"Through Five Republics on Horseback" especially to parents who are
anxious to put into the hands of their children inspiring and
character-forming reading. A copy of the book ought to be in every
Sunday School Library.

J. G. Brown.

626 Confederation Life Building, Toronto.




A PRELIMINARY WORD ON SOUTH AMERICA

The Continent of South America was discovered by Spanish navigators
towards the end of the fifteenth century. When the tidings of a new
world beyond the seas reached Europe, Spanish and Portuguese
expeditions vied with each other in exploring its coasts and sailing up
its mighty rivers.

In 1494 the Pope decided that these new lands, which were nearly twice
the size of Europe, should become the possession of the monarchs of
Spain and Portugal. Thus by right of conquest and gift South America
with its seven and a half million miles of territory and its millions
of Indian inhabitants was divided between Spain and Portugal. The
eastern northern half, now called Brazil, became the possession of the
Portuguese crown and the rest of the continent went to the crown of
Spain. South America is 4,600 miles from north to south, and its
greatest breadth from east to west is 3,500 miles. It is a country of
plains and mountains and rivers. The Andean range of mountains is 4,400
miles long. Twelve peaks tower three miles or more above ocean level,
and some reach into the sky for more than four miles. Many of these are
burning mountains; the volcano of Cotopaxi is three miles higher than
Vesuvius. Its rivers are among the longest in the world. The Amazon,
Orinoco and La Plata systems drain an area of 3,686,400 square miles.
Its plains are almost boundless and its forests limitless. There are
deserts where no rain ever falls, and there are stretches of coast line
where no day ever passes without rain. It is a country where all
climates can be found. As the northern part of the continent is
equatorial the greatest degree of heat is there experienced, while the
south stretches its length toward the Pole Quito, the capital of
Ecuador, is on the equator, and Punta Arenas, in Chile, is the
southernmost town in the world.

For hundreds of years Spain and Portugal exploited and ruled with an
iron hand their new and vast possessions. Their coffers were enriched
by fabulous sums of gold and treasure, for the wildest dream of riches
indulged in by its discoverers fell infinitely short of the actual
reality. Large numbers of colonists left the Iberian peninsula for the
newer and richer lands. Priests, monks and nuns went in every vessel,
and the Roman Catholicism of the Dark Ages was soon firmly established
as the only religion. The aborigines were compelled to bow before the
crucifix and worship Mary until, in a peculiar sense, South America
became the Pope's favorite parish. For the benefit of any, native or
colonist, who thought that a purer religion should be, at any rate,
permitted, the Inquisition was established at Lima, and later on at
Cartagena, where, Colombian history informs us, 400,000 were condemned
to death. Free thought was soon stamped out when death became the
penalty.

Such was the wild state of the country and the power vested in the
priests that abuses were tolerated which, even in Rome, had not been
dreamed of. The priests, as anxious for spiritual conquest as the rest
were for physical, joined hands with the heathenism of the Indians,
accepted their gods of wood and stone as saints, set up the crucifix
side by side with the images of the sun and moon, formerly worshipped;
and while in Europe the sun of the Reformation arose and dispelled the
terrible night of religious error and superstition, South America sank
from bad to worse. Thus the anomaly presented itself of the old, effete
lands throwing off the yoke of religious domination while the younger
ones were for centuries to be content with sinking lower and lower.
[Footnote: History is repeating itself, for here in Canada we see
Quebec more Catholic and intolerant than Italy. The Mayor of Rome dared
to criticize the Pope in 1910, but in the same year at the Eucharistic
Congress at Montreal his emissaries receive reverent "homage" from
those in authority. No wonder, therefore, that, while the Romans are
being more enlightened every year, a Quebec young man, who is now a
theological student in McMaster University, Toronto, declared, while
staying in the writer's home, that, as a child he was always taught
that Protestants grew horns on their heads, and that he attained the
age of 15 before ever he discovered that such was not the case. Even
backward Portugal has had its eyes opened to see that Rome and progress
cannot walk together, but the President of Brazil is so "faithful" that
the Pope, in 1910, made him a "Knight of the Golden Spur."]

If the religious emancipation of the old world did not find its echo in
South America, ideas of freedom from kingly oppression began to take
root in the hearts of the people, and before the year 1825 the Spanish
colonies had risen against the mother country and had formed themselves
into several independent republics, while three years before that the
independence of Brazil from Portugal had been declared. At the present
day no part of the vast continent is ruled by either Spain or Portugal,
but ten independent republics have their different flags and
governments.

Since its early discovery South America has been pre-eminently a
country of bloodshed. Revolution has succeeded revolution and hundreds
of thousands of the bravest have been slain, but, phoenix-like, the
country rises from its ashes.

Fifty millions of people now dwell beneath the Southern Cross and speak
the Portuguese and Spanish languages, and it is estimated that, with
the present rate of increase, 180 millions of people will speak these
languages by 1920.

South America is, pre-eminently, the coming continent. It is more
thinly settled than any other part of the world. At least six million
miles of its territory are suitable for immigrants--double the
available territory of the United States. "No other tract of good land
exists that is so large and so unoccupied as South America." [Footnote:
Dr. Wood, Lima, Peru, in "Protestant Missions in South America."] "One
of the most marvellous of activities in the development of virgin lands
is in progress. It is greater than that of Siberia, of Australia, or
the Canadian North-West." [Footnote: The Outlook, March, 1908.]
Emigrants are pouring into the continent from crowded Europe, the old
order of things is quickly passing away, and docks and railroads are
being built. Bolivia is spending more than fifty million dollars in new
work. Argentina and Chile are pushing lines in all directions. Brazil
is preparing to penetrate her vast jungles, and all this means enormous
expense, for the highest points and most difficult construction that
have ever been encountered are found in Peru, and between Chile and
Argentina there has been constructed the longest tunnel in the world.
[Footnote: One railway ascends to the height of 12,800 feet.]

Most important of all, the old medieval Romanism of the Dark Ages is
losing its grip upon the masses, and slowly, but surely, the leaven is
working which will, before another decade, bring South America to the
forefront of the nations.

The economic possibilities of South America cannot be overestimated. It
is a continent of vast and varied possibilities. There are still
districts as large as the German Empire entirely unexplored, and tribes
of Indians who do not yet know that America has been "discovered."

This is a continent of spiritual need. The Roman Catholic Church has
been a miserable failure. "Nearly 7,000,000 of people in South America
still adhere, more or less openly, to the fetishisms of their
ancestors, while perhaps double that number live altogether beyond the
reach of Christian influence, even if we take the word Christian in its
widest meaning." [Footnote: Report of Senor F. de Castello] The Rev. W.
B. Grubb, a missionary in Paraguay, says: "The greatest unexplored
region at present known on earth is there. It contains, as far as we
know, 300 distinct Indian nations, speaking 300 distinct languages, and
numbering some millions, all in the darkest heathenism." H. W. Brown,
in "Latin America," says, "There is a pagan population of four to five
millions." Then, with respect to the Roman Catholic population, Rev. T.
B. Wood, LL.D., in "Protestant Missions in South America," says, "South
America is a pagan field, properly speaking. Its image-worship is
idolatry. Abominations are grosser and more universal than among Roman
Catholics in Europe and the United States, where Protestantism has
greatly modified Catholicism. But it is _worse_ off than any other
great _pagan_ field in that it is dominated by a single mighty
hierarchy--the mightiest known in history. For centuries priestcraft
has had everything its own way all over the continent, and is now at
last yielding to outside pressure, but with desperate resistance."

"South America has been for nearly four hundred years part of the
parish of the Pope. In contrast with it the north of the New
World--Puritan, prosperous, powerful, progressive--presents probably
the most remarkable evidence earth affords of the blessings of
Protestantism, while the results of Roman Catholicism _left to itself_
are writ large in letters of gloom across the priest-ridden, lax and
superstitious South. Her cities, among the gayest and grossest in the
world, her ecclesiastics enormously wealthy and strenuously opposed to
progress and liberty, South America groans under the tyranny of a
priesthood which, in its highest forms, is unillumined by, and
incompetent to preach, the gospel of God's free gift; and in its lowest
is proverbially and habitually drunken, extortionate and ignorant. The
fires of her unspeakable Inquisition still burn in the hearts of her
ruling clerics, and although the spirit of the age has in our
nineteenth century transformed all her monarchies into free Republics,
religious intolerance all but universally prevails." [Footnote:
Guiness's "Romanism and Reformation."]

Prelates and priests, monks and nuns exert an influence that is
all-pervading. William E. Curtis, United States Commissioner to South
America, wrote: "One-fourth of all the property belongs to the bishop.
There is a Catholic church for every 150 inhabitants. Ten per cent. of
the population are priests, monks or nuns, and 272 out of the 365 days
of the year are observed as fast or feast days. The priests control the
government and rule the country as absolutely as if the Pope were its
king. As a result, 75 per cent. of the children born are illegitimate,
and the social and political condition presents a picture of the dark
ages." It is said that, in one town, every fourth person you meet is a
priest or a nun, or an ecclesiastic of some sort.

Yet, with all this to battle against, the Christian missionary is
making his influence felt.

_La Razon_, an important newspaper of Trujillo, in a recent issue says:
"In homage to truth, we make known with pleasure that the ministers of
Protestantism have benefited this town more in one year than all the
priests and friars of the Papal sect have done in three centuries."

"Last year," writes Mr. Milne, of the American Bible Society, "one of
our colporteurs in Ayacucho had to make his escape by the roof of a
house where he was staying, from a mob of half-castes, led on by a
friar. Finding their prey had escaped, they took his clothes and
several boxes of Bibles to the plaza of the city and burnt them."

It was not such a going-back as the outside world thought, but, oh, it
was a deeply significant one, when recently the leading men of the
Republic of Guatemala met together and solemnly threw over the religion
of their fathers, which, during 400 years of practice, had failed to
uplift, and re-established the old paganism of cultured Rome. So
serious was this step that the _Palace of Minerva_, the goddess of
trade, is engraved on the latest issue of Guatemalan postage stamps.
Believing that the few Protestants in the Republic are responsible for
the reaction, the Archbishop of Guatemala has promised to grant one
hundred days' indulgence to those who will pray for the overthrow of
Protestantism in that country.

"Romanism is not Christianity," so the few Christian workers are
fighting against tremendous odds. What shall the harvest be?




PART I.

THE ARGENTINE REPUBLIC

The country to which the author first went as a self-supporting
missionary in the year 1889.

     And Nature, the old nurse, took
     The child upon her knee,
     Saying, "Here is a story book
     Thy Father hath written for thee."

     "Come, wander with me," she said,
     "Into regions yet untrod,
     And read what is still unread
     In the manuscripts of God."

     And he wandered away and away
     With Nature, the dear old nurse,
     Who sung to him night and day
     The rhymes of the universe.

          --_Longfellow._


THE ARGENTINE REPUBLIC

The Argentine Republic has an area of one and a quarter million square
miles. It is 2,600 miles from north to south, and 500 miles at its
widest part. It is twelve times the size of Great Britain. Although the
population of the country is about seven millions, only one per cent,
of its cultivable area is now occupied, yet Argentina has an
incomparable climate.

It is essentially a cattle country. She is said to surpass any other
nation in her numbers of live stock. The Bovril Co. alone kills 100,000
a year. On its broad plains there are _estandas_, or cattle ranches, of
fifty and one hundred thousand acres in extent, and on these cattle,
horses and sheep are herded in millions. Argentina has over twenty-nine
million cattle, seventy-seven million sheep, seven and a half million
horses, five and a half million mules, a quarter-million of donkeys,
and nearly three million swine and three million goats. Four billion
dollars of British capital are invested in the country.

Argentina has sixteen thousand miles of railway. This has been
comparatively cheap to build. On the flat prairie lands the rails are
laid, and there is a length of one hundred and seventy-five miles
without a single curve.

Three hundred and fifty thousand square miles of this prairie is
specially adapted to the growing of grain. In 1908-9 the yield of wheat
was 4,920,000 tons. Argentina has exported over three million tons of
wheat, over three million tons of corn, and one million tons of
linseed, in one year, while "her flour mills can turn out 700,000 tons
of flour a year." [Footnote: Hirst's Argentina, 1910.]

"It is a delight often met with there to look on a field of twenty
square miles, with the golden ears standing even and close together,
and not a weed nor a stump of a tree nor a stone as big as a man's fist
to be seen or found in the whole area."

"To plant and harvest this immense yield the tillers of the ground
bought nine million dollars of farm implements in 1908. Argentina's
record in material progress rivals Japan's. Argentina astonished the
world by conducting, in 1906, a trade valued at five hundred and sixty
million dollars, buying and selling more in the markets of foreign
nations than Japan, with a population of forty millions, and China,
with three hundred millions." [Footnote: John Barrett, in Munsey's
Magazine]

To this Land of Promise there is a large immigration. Nearly three
hundred thousand have entered in one single year. About two hundred
thousand have been going to Buenos Ayres, the capital, alone, but in
1908 nearly five hundred thousand landed there. [Footnote: "Despite the
Government's efforts, emigration from Spain to South America takes
alarming proportions. In some districts the men of the working classes
have departed in a body. In certain villages in the neighborhood of
Cadiz there arc whole streets of deserted houses."-Spanish Press.] In
Belgium 220 people are crowded into the territory occupied by one
person in Argentina, so yet there is room. Albert Hale says: "It is
undeniable that Argentina can give lodgment to 100,000,000 people, and
can furnish nourishment, at a remarkably cheap rate, for as many more,
when her whole area is utilized."

Argentina's schools and universities are the best in the
Spanish-speaking world. In Buenos Ayres you will find some of the
finest school buildings in the world, while 4,000 students attend one
university.

Buenos Ayres, founded in 1580, is to-day the largest city in the world
south of the equator, and is "one of the richest and most beautiful
places of the world." The broad prairies around the city have made the
people "the richest on earth."

Kev. John F. Thompson, for forty-five years a resident of that country,
summarizes its characteristics in the following paragraph: "Argentina
is a _land of plenty_; plenty of room and plenty of food. If the actual
population were divided into families of ten persons, each would have a
farm of eight square miles, with ten horses, fifty-four cows, and one
hundred and eighty-six sheep, and after they had eaten their fill of
bread they would have half a ton of wheat and corn to sell or send to
the hungry nations."




CHAPTER I.

BUENOS AYRES IN 1889.


In the year 1889, after five weeks of ocean tossing, the steamer on
which I was a passenger anchored in the River Plate, off Buenos Ayres.
Nothing but water and sky was to be seen, for the coast was yet twenty
miles away, but the river was too shallow for the steamer to get
nearer. Large tugboats came out to us, and passengers and baggage were
transhipped into them, and we steamed ten miles nearer the still
invisible city. There smaller tugs awaited us and we were again
transhipped. Sailing once more toward the land, we soon caught sight of
the Argentine capital, but before we could sail nearer the tugs
grounded. There we were crowded into flat-bottomed, lug-sailed boats
for a third stage of our landward journey. These boats conveyed us to
within a mile of the city, when carts, drawn by five horses, met us in
the surf and drew us on to the wet, shingly beach. There about twenty
men stood, ready to carry the females on their backs on to the dry,
sandy shore, where was the customs house. The population of the city we
then entered was about six hundred thousand souls.

After changing the little gold I carried for the greasy paper currency
of the country, I started out in search of something to eat. Eventually
I found myself before a substantial meal. At a table in front of me sat
a Scotsman from the same vessel. He had arrived before me (Scotsmen say
they are always before the Englishmen) and was devouring part of a leg
of mutton. This, he told me, he had procured, to the great amusement of
Boniface, by going down on all fours and _baa-ing_ like the sheep of
his native hills. Had he waited until I arrived he might have feasted
on lamb, for my voice was not so gruff as his. He had unconsciously
asked for an old sheep. I think the Highlander in that instance
regretted that he had preceded the Englishman.

How shall I describe the metropolis of the Argentine, with its
one-storied, flat-roofed houses, each with grated windows and centre
_patio_? Some of the poorer inhabitants raise fowls on the roof, which
gives the house a barnyard appearance, while the iron-barred windows
below strongly suggest a prison. Strange yet attractive dwellings they
are, lime-washed in various colors, the favorite shades seeming to be
pink and bottle green. Fires are not used except for cooking purposes,
and the little smoke they give out is quickly dispersed by the breezes
from the sixty-mile-wide river on which the city stands.

The Buenos Ayres of 1889 was a strange place, with its long, narrow
streets, its peculiar stores and many-tongued inhabitants. There is the
dark-skinned policeman at the corner of each block sitting silently on
his horse, or galloping down the cobbled street at the sound of some
revolver, which generally tells of a life gone out. Arriving on the
scene he often finds the culprit flown. If he succeeds in riding him
down (an action he scruples not to do), he, with great show, and at the
sword's point, conducts him to the nearest police station.
Unfortunately he often chooses the quiet side streets, where his
prisoner may have a chance to buy his freedom. If he pays a few
dollars, the poor _vigilante_ is perfectly willing to lose him, after
making sometimes the pretence of a struggle to blind the lookers-on, if
there be any curious enough to interest themselves. This man in khaki
is often "the terror of the innocent, the laughing-stock of the
guilty." The poor man or the foreign sailor, if he stagger ever so
little, is sure to be "run in." The Argentine law-keeper (?) is
provided with both sword and revolver, but receives small remuneration,
and as his salary is often tardily paid him, he augments it in this way
when he cannot see a good opportunity of turning burglar or something
worse on his own account. When he is low in funds he will accost the
stranger, begging a
 cigarette, or inviting himself at your expense to the nearest
_cafe_, as "the day is so unusually hot." After all, we must not blame
him too much--his superiors are far from guiltless, and he knows it.
When Minister Toso took charge of the Provincial portfolio of Finance,
he exclaimed, "_C-o! Todos van robando menos yo!_" ("Everybody is
robbing here except I.") It is public news that President Celman
carried away to his private residence in the country a most beautiful
and expensive bronze fountain presented by the inhabitants of the city
to adorn the principal _plaza_. [Footnote: Public square.] The
president is elected by the people for a term of three years, and
invariably retires a rich man, however poor he may have been when
entering on his office. The laws of the country may be described as
model and Christian, but the carrying out of them is a very different
matter.

Some of the laws are excellent and worthy of our imitation, such as,
for example, the one which decrees that _bachelors shall be taxed_.
Civil elections are held on Sundays, the voting places being Roman
Catholic churches.

Both postmen and telegraph boys deliver on horseback, but such is the
lax custom that everything will do to-morrow. That fatal word is the
first the stranger learns--_manana_.

Comparatively few people walk the streets. "No city in the world of
equal size and population can compare with Buenos Ayres for the number
and extent of its tramways." [Footnote: Turner's "Argentina."] A writer
in the _Financial News_ says: "The proportion of the population who
daily use street-cars is _sixty-six times greater in Buenos Ayres than
in the United Kingdom_."

This _Modern Athens_, as the Argentines love to term their city, has a
beautiful climate. For perhaps three hundred days out of every year
there is a sky above as blue as was ever seen in Naples.

The natives eat only twice a day--at 10.30 a.m., and at 7 p.m.--the
common edibles costing but little. I could write much of Buenos Ayres,
with its _carnicerias_, where a leg of mutton may be bought for 20
cts., or a brace of turkeys for 40 cts.; its _almacenes_, where one may
buy a pound of sugar or a yard of cotton, a measure of charcoal (coal
is there unknown) or a large _sombrero_, a package of tobacco (leaves
over two feet long) or a pair of white hemp-soled shoes for your
feet--all at the same counter. The customer may further obtain a bottle
of wine or a bottle of beer (the latter costing four times the price of
the former) from the same assistant, who sells at different prices to
different customers.

There the value of money is constantly changing, and almost every day
prices vary. What to-day costs $20 to-morrow may be $15, or, more
likely, $30. Although one hundred and seventy tons of sugar are
annually grown in the country, that luxury is decidedly expensive. I
have paid from 12 cts. to 30 cts. a pound. Oatmeal, the Scotsman's
dish, has cost me up to 50 cts. a pound.

Coming again on to the street you hear the deafening noises of the cow
horns blown by the streetcar drivers, or the _pescador_ shrilly
inviting housekeepers to buy the repulsive-looking red fish, carried
over his shoulder, slung on a thick bamboo. Perhaps you meet a beggar
on horseback (for there wishes _are_ horses, and beggars _do_ ride),
who piteously whines for help. This steed-riding fraternity all use
invariably the same words: _"Por el amor de Dios dame un centavo!"_
("For the love of God give me a cent.") If you bestow it, he will call
on his patron saint to bless you. If you fail to assist him, the curses
of all the saints in heaven will fall on your impious head. This often
causes such a shudder in the recipient that I have known him to turn
back to appease the wrath of the mendicant, and receive instead--a
blessing.

It is not an uncommon sight to see a black-robed priest with his hand
on a boy's head giving him a benediction that he may be enabled to sell
his newspapers or lottery tickets with more celerity.

The National Lottery is a great institution, and hundreds keep
themselves poor buying tickets. In one year the lottery has realized
the sum of $3,409,143.57. The Government takes forty per cent. of this,
and divides the rest between a number of charitable and religious
organizations, all, needless to say, being Roman Catholic. Amongst the
names appear the following: Poor Sisters of St. Joseph, Workshop of Our
Lady, Sisters of St. Anthony, etc.

Little booths for the sale of lottery tickets are erected in the
vestibules of some of the churches, and the Government, in this way,
repays the church.

The gambling passion is one of Argentina's greatest curses. Tickets are
bought by all, from the Senator down to the newsboy who ventures his
only dollar.

You meet the water-seller passing down the street with his barrel cart,
drawn by three or four horses with tinkling bells, dispensing water to
customers at five cents a pail. The poorer classes have no other means
of procuring this precious liquid. The water is kept in a corner of the
house in large sun-baked jars. A peculiarity of these pots is that they
are not made to stand alone, but have to be held up by something.

At early morning and evening the milkman goes his rounds on horseback.
The milk he carries in six long, narrow cans, like inverted
sugar-loaves, three on each side of his raw-hide saddle, he himself
being perched between them on a sheepskin. In some cans he carries pure
cream, which the jolting of his horse soon converts into butter. This
he lifts out with his hands to any who care to buy. After the addition
of a little salt, and the subtraction of a little buttermilk, this
_manteca_ is excellent. After serving you he will again mount his
horse, but not until his hands have been well wiped on its tail, which
almost touches the ground. The other cans of the _lechero_ contain a
mixture known to him alone. I never analyzed it, but have remarked a
chalky substance in the bottom of my glass. He does not profess to sell
pure milk; that you can buy, but, of course, at a higher price, from
the pure milk seller. In the cool of the afternoon he will bring round
his cows, with bells on their necks and calves dragging behind. The
calves are tied to the mothers' tails, and wear a muzzle. At a _sh-h_
from the sidewalk he stops them, and, stooping down, fills your pitcher
according to your money. The cows, through being born and bred to a
life in the streets, are generally miserable-looking beasts. Strange to
add, the one milkman shoes his cows and the other leaves his horse
unshod. It is not customary in this country for man's noble friend to
wear more than his own natural hoof. A visit to the blacksmith is
entertaining. The smith, by means of a short lasso, deftly trips up the
animal, and, with its legs securely lashed, the cow must lie on its
back while he shoes its upturned hoofs.

Many and varied are the scenes. One is struck by the number of horses,
seven and eight often being yoked to one cart, which even then they
sometimes find difficult to draw. Some of the streets are very bad,
worse than our country lanes, and filled with deep ruts and drains,
into which the horses often fall. There the driver will sometimes
cruelly leave them, when, after his arm aches in using the whip, he
finds the animal cannot rise. For the veriest trifle I have known men
to smash the poor dumb brute's eyes out with the stock of the whip, and
I have been very near the Police Station more than once when my
righteous blood compelled me to interfere. Where, oh, where is the
Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals? Surely no suffering
creatures under the sun cry out louder for mercy than those in
Argentina?

As I have said, horses are left to die in the public streets. It has
been my painful duty to pass moaning creatures lying helplessly in the
road, with broken limbs, under a burning sun, suffering hunger and
thirst, for three consecutive days, before kind death, the sufferer's
friend, released them. Looking on such sights, seeing every street
urchin with coarse laugh and brutal jest jump on such an animal's
quivering body, stuff its parched mouth with mud, or poke sticks into
its staring eyes, I have cried aloud at the injustice. The policeman
and the passers-by have only laughed at me for my pains.

In my experiences in South America I found cruelty to be a marked
feature of the people. If the father thrusts his dagger into his enemy,
and the mother, in her fits of rage, sticks her hairpin into her maid's
body, can it be wondered at if the children inherit cruel natures? How
often have I seen a poor horse fall between the shafts of some loaded
cart of bricks or sand! Never once have I seen his harness undone and
willing hands help him up, as in other civilized lands. No, the lashing
of the cruel whip or the knife's point is his only help. If, as some
religious writers have said, the horse will be a sharer of Paradise
along with man, his master, then those from Buenos Ayres will feed in
stalls of silver and have their wounds healed by the clover of eternal
kindness. "God is Love."

I have said the streets are full of holes. In justice to the
authorities I must mention the fact that sometimes, especially at the
crossings, these are filled up. To carry truthfulness still further,
however, I must state that more than once I have known them bridged
over with the putrefying remains of a horse in the last stages of
decomposition. I have seen delicate ladies, attired in Parisian
furbelows, lift their dainty skirts, attempt the crossing--and sink in
a mass of corruption, full of maggots.

In my description of Buenos Ayres I must not omit to mention the large
square, black, open hearses so often seen rapidly drawn through the
streets, the driver seeming to travel as quickly as he can. In the
centre of the coach is the coffin, made of white wood and covered with
black material, fastened on with brass nails. Around this gruesome
object sit the relatives and friends of the departed one on their
journey to the _chacarita_, or cemetery, some six miles out from the
centre of the city. Cemeteries in Spanish America are divided into
three enclosures. There is the "cemetery of heaven," "the cemetery of
purgatory," and "the cemetery of hell." The location of the soul in the
future is thus seen to be dependent on its location by the priests
here. The dead are buried on the day of their death, when possible, or,
if not, then early on the following morning; but never, I believe, on
feast days. Those periods are set apart for pleasure, and on important
saint days banners and flags of all nations are hung across the
streets, or adorn the roofs of the flat-topped houses, where the
washing is at other times dried.

After attending mass in the early morning on these days, the people
give themselves up to revelry and sin at home, or crowd the street-cars
running to the parks and suburbs. Many with departed relatives (and who
has none?) go to the _chacarita_, and for a few _pesos_ bargain with
the black-robed priest waiting there, to deliver their precious dead
out of Purgatory. If he sings the prayer the cost is double, but
supposed to be also doubly efficacious. Mothers do not always inspire
filial respect in their offspring, for one young man declared that he
"wanted to get his mother out of Purgatory before he went in."

A Buenos Ayres missionary writes "There are two large cemeteries here.
From early morn until late at night the people crowd into them, and I
am told there were 100,000 at one time in one of them. November 1 is a
special day for releasing thousands of souls out of Purgatory. We
printed thousands of tracts and the workers started out to distribute
them. By ten o'clock six of them were in jail, having been given into
custody by a 'holy father.' They were detained until six in the evening
without food, and then were released through the efforts of a Methodist
minister."

The catechisn reads: "Attend mass all Sundays and Feast days. Confess
at least once a year, or oftener, if there is any fear of death. Take
Sacrament at Easter time. Pay a tenth of first-fruits to God's Church."
The fourth commandment is condensed into the words: "Sanctify the Feast
days." From this it will be seen that there is great need for mission
work. Of course Romanism in this and other cities is losing its old
grip upon the people, and because of this the priest is putting forth
superhuman effort to retain what he has. _La Voz de la Iglesia_ ("The
Voice of the Church"), the organ of the Bishop of Buenos Ayres, has
lately published some of the strongest articles we have ever read. A
late article concludes: "One thing only, one thing: OBEY; OBEY BLINDLY.
Comply with her (the Church's) commands with faithful loyalty. If we do
this, it is impossible for Protestantism to invade the flowery camp of
the Church, Holy, Catholic, Apostolic and Roman."

Articles such as this, however, and the circulation of a tract by one
of the leading church presses, are not calculated to help forward a
losing cause. The tract referred to is entitled, "Letter of Jesus about
the Drops of Blood which He shed whilst He went to Calvary." "You know
that the soldiers numbered 150, twenty-five of whom conducted me bound.
I received fifty blows on the head and 108 on the breast. I was pulled
by the hair 23 times, and 30 persons spat in my face. Those who struck
me on the upper part of the body were 6,666, and 100 Jews struck me on
the head. I sighed 125 times. The wounds on the head numbered 20; from
the crown of thorns, 72; points of thorns on the forehead, 100. The
wounds on the body were 100. There came out of my body 28,430 drops of
blood." This letter, the tract states, was found in the Holy Sepulchre
and is preserved by his holiness the Pope. Intelligent, thinking men
can only smile at such an utter absurdity.

An "Echoes from Argentina" extract reads: "Not many months ago,
Argentina was blessed by the Pope. Note what has happened since:--The
Archbishop, who was the bearer of the blessing and brought it from
Rome, has since died very suddenly; we have had a terrible visitation
of heat suffocation, hundreds being attacked and very many dying; we
have had the bubonic pest in our midst; a bloody provincial revolution
in Entre Rios; and now at the time of writing there is an outbreak of a
serious cattle disease, and England has closed her ports against
Argentine live stock. Of course, we do not say that these calamities
are the _result_ of the Pope's blessing, but we would that Catholics
would open their eyes and see that it is a fact that whereas Protestant
countries, _anathematized_ by the Pope, prosper, Catholic countries
which have been blessed by him are in a lamentable condition."

BUENOS AYRES AT THE PRESENT TIME.

Perhaps no city of the world has grown and progressed more during this
last decade than the city of Buenos Ayres. To-day passengers land in
the centre of the city and step on "the most expensive system of
artificial docks in all America, representing an expenditure of seventy
million dollars."

To this city there is a large emigration. It has grown at the rate of
4,000 adults a week, with a birthrate of 1,000 a week added. The
population is now fast climbing up to 1 1-2 millions of inhabitants.
There are 300,000 Italians, 100,000 Spaniards, a colony of 20,000
Britishers, and, of course, Jews and other foreigners in proportion.
"Buenos Ayres is one of the most cosmopolitan cities of the world.
There are 189 newspapers, printed in almost every language of the
globe. Probably the only Syrian newspaper in America, _The Assudk_, is
issued in this city." To keep pace with the rush of newcomers has
necessitated the building of 30,000 houses every year. There is here
"the finest and costliest structure ever built, used exclusively by one
newspaper, the home of _La Prensa_; the most magnificent opera house of
the western hemisphere, erected by the government at the cost of ten
million dollars; one of the largest banks in the world, and the
handsomest and largest clubhouse in the world." [Footnote: John
Barrett, In Munsey's Magazine.] The entrance fee to this club is
$1,500. The Y.M.C.A. is now erecting a commodious building, for which
$200,000 has already been raised, and there is a Y.W.C.A., with a
membership of five hundred. Dr. Clark, in "The Continent of
Opportunity," says, "More millionaires live in Buenos Ayres than in any
other city of the world of its size. The proportion of well-clothed,
well-fed people is greater than in American cities, the slums are
smaller, and the submerged classes less in proportion. The constant
movement of carriages and automobiles here quite surpasses that of
Fifth Avenue." The street cars are of the latest and most improved
electric types, equal to any seen in New York or London, and seat one
hundred people, inside and out. Besides these there is an excellent
service of motor cabs, and _tubes_ are being commenced. Level crossings
for the steam roads are not permitted in the city limits, so all trains
run over or under the streets.

"The Post Office handles 40,000,000 pieces of mail and 125,000 parcel
post packages a month. The city has 1,209 automobiles, 27 theatres and
50 moving picture shows. Five thousand vessels enter the port of Buenos
Ayres every year, and the export of meat in 1910 was valued at
$31,000,000. No other section of the world shows such growth."
[Footnote: C. H. Furlong, in The World's Work.]

The city, once so unhealthy, is now, through proper drainage, "the
second healthiest large city of the world." The streets, as I first saw
them, were roughly cobbled, now they are asphalt paved, and made into
beautiful avenues, such as would grace any capital of the world.
Avenida de Mayo, cut right through the old city, is famed as being one
of the most costly and beautiful avenues of the world.

On those streets the equestrian milkman is no longer seen. Beautiful
sanitary white-tiled _tambos_, where pure milk and butter are sold,
have taken his place. The old has been transformed and PROGRESS is
written everywhere.




CHAPTER II.

_REVOLUTION._


South America, of all lands, has been most torn asunder by war.
Revolutions may be numbered by hundreds, and the slaughter has been
incredible. Even since the opening of the year 1900, thirty thousand
Colombians have been slain and there have been dozens of revolutions.
Darwin relates the fact that in 1832 Argentina underwent fifteen
changes of government in nine months, owing to internal strife, and
since then Argentina has had its full share.

During my residence in Buenos Ayres there occurred one of those
disastrous revolutions which have from time to time shaken the whole
Republic. The President, Don Juarez Celman, had long been unpopular,
and, the mass of the people being against him, as well as nearly half
of the standing army, and all the fleet then anchored in the river, the
time was considered ripe to strike a blow.

On the morning of July 26, 1890, the sun rose upon thousands of
stern-looking men bivouacking in the streets and public squares of the
city. The revolution had commenced, and was led by one of the most
distinguished Argentine citizens, General Joseph Mary Campos. The
battle-cry of these men was "_Sangre! Sangre!_" [Footnote: "Blood!
Blood!"] The war fiend stalked forth. Trenches were dug in the streets.
Guns were placed at every point of vantage. Men mounted their steeds
with a careless laugh, while the rising sun shone on their burnished
arms, so soon to be stained with blood. Battalions of men marched up
and down the streets to the sound of martial music, and the low,
flat-roofed housetops were quickly filled with sharpshooters.

The Government House and residence of the President was guarded in all
directions by the 2nd Battalion of the Line, the firemen and a
detachment of police, but on the river side were four gunboats of the
revolutionary party.

The average South American is a man of quick impulses and little
thought. The first shot fired by the Government troops was the signal
for a fusilade that literally shook the city. Rifle shots cracked, big
guns roared, and shells screaming overhead descended in all directions,
carrying death and destruction. Street-cars, wagons and cabs were
overturned to form barricades. In the narrow, straight streets the
carnage was fearful, and blood soon trickled down the watercourses and
dyed the pavements. That morning the sun had risen for the last time
upon six hundred strong men; it set upon their mangled remains. Six
hundred souls! The Argentine soldier knows little of the science of
"hide and seek" warfare. When he goes forth to battle, it is to
fight--or die. Of the future life he unfortunately thinks little, and
of Christ, the world's Redeemer, he seldom or never hears. The Roman
Catholic chaplain mumbles a few Latin prayers to them at times, but as
the knowledge of these _resos_ does not seem to improve the priest's
life, the men prefer to remain in ignorance.

The average Argentine soldier is a man of little intelligence. The
regiments are composed of Patagonian Indians or semi-civilized
Guaranis, mixed with all classes of criminals from the state prisons.
Nature has imprinted upon them the unmistakable marks of the
savage--sullen, stupid ferocity, indifference to pain, bestial
instincts. As for his fighting qualities, they more resemble those of
the tiger than of the cool, brave and trained soldier. When his blood
is roused, fighting is with him a matter of blind and indiscriminate
carnage of friend or foe. A more villainous-looking horde it would be
difficult to find in any army. The splendid accoutrements of the
generals and superior officers, and the glittering equipments of their
chargers, offer a vivid contrast to the mean and dirty uniforms of the
troops.

During the day the whole territory of the Republic was declared to be
in a state of siege. Business was at a complete standstill. The stores
were all closed, and many of them fortified with the first means that
came to hand. Mattresses, doors, furniture, everything was
requisitioned, and the greatest excitement prevailed in commercial
circles generally. All the gun-makers' shops had soon been cleared of
their contents, which were in the hands of the adherents of the
revolution.

That evening the news of the insurrection was flashed by "Reuter's" to
all parts of the civilized world. The following appeared in one of the
largest British dailies:

"BUENOS AYRES, July 27, 5.40 p.m.

"The fighting in the streets between the Government troops and the
insurgents has been of the most desperate character.

"The forces of the Government have been defeated.

"The losses in killed and wounded are estimated at 1,000.

"The fleet is in favor of the Revolutionists.

"Government house and the barracks occupied by the Government troops
have been bombarded by the insurgent artillery."

That night as I went in and out of the squads of men on the
revolutionary side, seeking to do some acts of mercy, I saw many
strange and awful sights. There were wounded men who refused to leave
the field, although the rain poured. Others were employed in cooking or
ravenously eating the dead horses which strewed the streets. Some were
lying down to drink the water flowing in the gutters, which water was
often tinged with human blood, for the rain was by this time washing
away many of the dark spots in the streets. Others lay coiled up in
heaps under their soaking _ponchos_, trying to sleep a little, their
arms stacked close at hand. There were men to all appearances fast
asleep, standing with their arms in the reins of the horses which had
borne them safely through the leaden hail of that day of terror.
Numerous were the jokes and loud was the coarse laughter of many who
next day would be lying stiff in death, but little thought seemed to be
expended on that possibility.

Men looted the stores and feasted, or wantonly destroyed valuables they
had no use for. None stopped this havoc, for the officers were
quartered in the adjacent houses, themselves holding high revelry.
Lawless hordes visited the police offices, threw their furniture into
the streets, tore to shreds all the books, papers and records found,
and created general havoc. They gorged and cursed, using swords for
knives, and lay down in the soaking streets or leaned against the guns
to smoke the inevitable _cigarillo_. A few looked up at the gilded keys
of St. Peter adorning the front of the cathedral, perhaps wondering if
they would be used to admit them to a better world.

Next day, as I sallied forth to the dismal duty of caring for the dead
and dying, the guns of the Argentine fleet [Footnote: British-built
vessels of the latest and most approved types.] in the river opposite
the city blazed forth upon the quarter held by the Government's loyal
troops. One hundred and fifty-four shots were fired, two of the largest
gunboats firing three-hundred and six-hundred pounders. Soon every
square was a shambles, and the mud oozed with blood. The Buenos Ayres
_Standard_, describing that day of fierce warfare, stated:

"At dawn, the National troops, quartered in the Plaza Libertad, made
another desperate attack on the Revolutionary positions in the Plaza
Lavalle. The Krupp guns, mitrailleuses and gatlings went off at a
terrible rate, and volleys succeeded each other, second for second,
from five in the morning till half-past nine. The work of death was
fearful, and hundreds of spectators were shot down as they watched from
their balconies or housetops. Cannon balls riddled all the houses near
the Cinco Esquinas. In the attack on the Plaza Lavalle, three hundred
men must have fallen."

[Illustration]

"At ten a.m. the white flag of truce was hoisted on both sides, and the
dismal work of collecting the dead and wounded began. The ambulances of
the Asistencia Publica, the cars of the tram companies and the wagons
of the Red Cross were busily engaged all day in carrying away the dead.
It is estimated that in the Plaza Lavalle above 600 men were wounded
and 300 killed. Considering that the Revolutionists defended an
entrenched position, whilst the National troops attacked, we may
imagine that the losses of the latter were enormous."

"General Lavalle, commander-in-chief of the National forces, gave
orders for a large number of coffins, which were not delivered, as the
undertaker wished to be paid cash. It is to be supposed that these
coffins were for the dead officers."

"When the white flags were run up, Dr. Del Valle, Senator of the
Nation, sent, in the name of the Revolutionary Committee, an ultimatum
to the National Government, demanding the immediate dismissal of the
President of the Republic and dissolution of Congress. Later on it was
known that both parties had agreed on an armistice, to last till
mid-day on Monday."

Of the third day's sanguinary fighting, the _Standard_ wrote:

"The Plaza Libertad was taken by General Lavalle at the head of the
National troops under the most terrible fire, but the regiments held
well together and carried the position in a most gallant manner,
confirming the reputation of indomitable valor that the Argentine
troops won at the trenches of Curupayti. Our readers may imagine the
fire they suffered in the straight streets swept by Krupp guns,
gatlings and mitrailleuses, while every housetop was a fortress whence
a deadly fire was poured on the heads of the soldiers. Let anybody take
the trouble to visit the Calles [Footnote: Streets] Cerrito, Libertad
and Talcahuano, the vicinity of the Plazas Parque and Lavalle, and he
will be staggered to see how all the houses have been riddled by
mitrailleuses and rifle bullets. The passage of cannon balls is marked
on the iron frames of windows, smashed frames and demolished balconies
of the houses.

"The Miro Palace, in the Plaza Parque, is a sorry picture of wreckage:
the 'mirador' is knocked to pieces by balls and shells; the walls are
riddled on every side, and nearly all the beautiful Italian balconies
and buttresses have been demolished. The firing around the palace must
have been fearful, to judge by the utter ruin about, and all the
telephone wires dangling over the street in meshes from every house.
Ruin and wreckage everywhere.

"By this time the hospitals of the city, the churches and public
buildings were filled with the wounded and dying, borne there on
stretchers made often of splintered and shattered doors. Nearly a
hundred men were taken into the San Francisco convent alone." Yet with
all this the lust for blood was not quenched. It could still be written
of the fourth day:

"At about half-past two, a sharp attack was made by the Government
troops on the Plaza Parque, and a fearful fire was kept up. Hundreds
and hundreds fell on both sides, but the Government troops were finally
repulsed. People standing at the corners of the streets cheering for
the Revolutionists were fired on and many were killed. Bodies of
Government troops were stationed at the corners of the streets leading
to the Plaza, Large bales of hay had been heaped up to protect them
from the deadly fire of the Revolutionists.

"It was at times difficult to remember that heavy slaughter was going
on around. In many parts of the city people were chatting, joking and
laughing at their doors. The attitude of the foreign population was
more serious; they seemed to foresee the heavy responsibilities of the
position and to accurately forecast the result of the insurrection.

"The bulletins of the various newspapers during the revolution were
purchased by the thousand and perused with the utmost avidity; fancy
prices were often paid for them. The Sunday edition of _The Standard_
was sold by enterprising newsboys in the suburbs as high as $3.00 per
copy, whilst fifty cents was the regulation price for a momentary peep
at our first column."

Towards the close of that memorable 29th of July the hail of bullets
ceased, but the insurgent fleet still kept up its destructive
bombardment of the Government houses for four hours.

The Revolutionists were defeated, or, as was seriously affirmed, had
been sold for the sum of one million Argentine dollars.

_"Estamos vendidos!" "Estamos vendidos!"_ (We are sold! We are sold!)
was heard on every hand. Because of this surrender officers broke their
swords and men threw away their rifles as they wept with rage. A
sergeant exclaimed: "And for this they called us out--to surrender
without a struggle! Cowards! Poltroons!" And then with a stern glance
around he placed his rifle to his breast and shot himself through the
heart. After the cessation of hostilities both sides collected their
dead, and the wounded were placed under the care of surgeons, civil as
well as military.

Notwithstanding the fact that the insurgents were said to be defeated,
the President, Dr. Celman, fled from the city, and the amusing
spectacle was seen of men and youths patrolling the streets wearing
cards in their hats which read: _"Ya se fue el burro"_ (At last the
donkey has gone). A more serious sight, however, was when the effigy of
the fleeing President was crucified.

Thus ended the insurrection of 1890, a rising which sent three thousand
brave men into eternity.

What changes had taken place in four short days! At the Plaza Libertad
the wreckage was most complete. The beautiful partierres were trodden
down by horses; the trees had been partially cut down for fuel; pools
of blood, remnants of slaughtered animals, offal, refuse everywhere.

Since the glorious days of the British invasion--glorious from an
Argentine point of view--Buenos Ayres had never seen its streets turned
into barricades and its housetops into fortresses. In times of
electoral excitement we had seen electors attack each other in bands
many years, but never was organized warfare carried on as during this
revolution. The Plaza Parque was occupied by four or five thousand
Revolutionary troops; all access to the Plaza was defended by armed
groups on the house-tops and barricades in the streets, Krupp guns and
that most infernal of modern inventions, the mitrailleuse, swept all
the streets, north, south, east and west. The deadly grape swept the
streets down to the very river, and not twenty thousand men could have
taken the Revolutionary position by storm, except by gutting the houses
and piercing the blocks, as Colonel Garmendia proposed, to avoid the
awful loss of life suffered in the taking of the Plaza Libertad on
Saturday morning.

At the close of the revolution the great city found itself suffering
from a quasi-famine. High prices were asked for everything. In some
districts provisions could not be obtained even at famine prices. The
writer for the first time in his life had to go here and there to beg a
loaf of bread for his family's needs.

A reporter of the _Argentine News_, July 31st of that same year, wrote:

"There is a revolution going on in Rosario. It began on Saturday, when
the Revolutionists surprised the Government party, and by one on Sunday
most of the Government buildings were in their hands. It is now eight
in the morning and the firing is terrible. Volunteers are coming into
the town from all parts, so the rebels are bound to win the stronghold
shortly. News has just come that the Government troops have
surrendered. Four p.m.--I have been out to see the dead and wounded
gathered up by the ambulance wagons. I should think the dead are less
than a hundred, and the wounded about four times that number. The
surprise was so sudden that the victory has been easy and with little
loss of life. The Revolutionists are behaving well and not destroying
property as they might have done. The whole town is rejoicing; flags of
all nations are flying everywhere. The saddest thing about the affair
is that some fifty murderers have escaped from the prison. I saw many
of them running away when I got upon the spot. The order has been given
to recapture them. I trust they may be caught, for we have too many of
that class at liberty already. * * * * It is estimated that over
100,000 rounds of ammunition were fired in the two days. * * * The
insurgents fed on horse-meat and beef, the former being obtained by
killing the horses belonging to the police, the latter from the various
dairies, from which the cows were seized."

In 1911 the two largest Dreadnoughts of the world, the _Rivadavia_ and
the _Moreno_, were launched for the Argentine Government. These two
battleships are _half as powerful again_ as the largest British
Dreadnought.




CHAPTER III.

_THE CRIOLLO VILLAGE_.


The different centres of trade and commerce in the Argentine can easily
be reached by train or river steamer. Rosario, with its 140,000
inhabitants, in the north; Bahia Blanca, where there is the largest
wheat elevator in the world, in the south, and Mendoza, at the foot of
the Andes, several times destroyed by earthquake, five hundred miles
west--all these are more or less like the capital.

To arrive at an isolated village of the interior the traveller must be
content to ride, as I did, on horseback, or be willing to jolt along
for weeks in a wagon without springs. These carts are drawn by eight,
ten, or more bullocks, as the weight warrants, and are provided with
two very strong wheels, without tires, and often standing eight and ten
feet high. The patient animals, by means of a yoke fastened to their
horns with raw-hide, draw these carts through long prairie grass or
sinking morass, through swollen rivers or oozing mud, over which
malaria hangs in visible forms.

The _voyager_ must be prepared to suffer a little hunger and thirst on
the way. He must sleep amongst the baggage in the cart, or on the
broader bed of the ground, where snakes and tarantulas creep and the
heavy dew saturates one through and through.

As is well known, the bullock is a slow animal, and these never travel
more than two or three miles an hour.

Time with the native is no object. The words, "With patience we win
heaven," are ever on his lips.

The Argentine countryman is decidedly lazy.

Darwin relates that he asked two men the question: "Why don't you
work?" One said: "The days are too long!" Another answered: "I am too
poor."

With these people nothing can succeed unless it is begun when the moon
is on the increase. The result is that little is accomplished.

You cannot make the driver understand your haste, and the bullocks
understand and care still less.

The mosquitoes do their best to eat you up alive, unless your body has
already had all the blood sucked out of it, a humiliating, painful and
disfiguring process. You must carry with you sufficient food for the
journey, or it may happen that, like me, you are only able to shoot a
small ring dove, and with its entrails fish out of the muddy stream a
monster turtle for the evening meal.

If, on the other hand, you pass a solitary house, they will with
pleasure give you a sheep. If you killed one without permission your
punishment would perhaps be greater than if you had killed a man.

If a bullock becomes ill on the road, the driver will, with his knife,
cut all around the sod where the animal has left its footprint. Lifting
this out, he will cut a cross on it and replace it the other side
uppermost. This cure is most implicitly believed in and practised.

[Illustration]

The making of the cross is supposed to do great wonders, which your
guide is never tired of recounting while he drinks his _mate_ in the
unbroken stillness of the evening. Alas! the many bleaching bones on
the road testify that this, and a hundred other such remedies, are not
always effectual, but the mind of the native is so full of
superstitious faith that the testimony of his own eyes will not
convince him of the absurdity of his belief. As he stoops over the fire
you will notice on his breast some trinket or relic--anything will do
if blessed by the priest--and that, he assures you, will save him from
every unknown and unseen danger in his land voyage. The priest has said
it, and he rests satisfied that no lightning stroke will fell him, no
lurking panther pounce upon him, nor will he die of thirst or any other
evil. I have remarked men of the most cruel, cutthroat description
wearing these treasures with zealous care, especially one, of whom it
was said that he had killed two wives.

When your driver is young and amorously inclined you will notice that
he never starts for the regions beyond without first providing himself
with an owl's skin. This tied on his breast, he tells you, will ensure
him favor in the eyes of the females he may meet on the road, and on
arrival at his destination.

I once witnessed what at first sight appeared to be a heavy fall of
snow coming up with the wind from the south. Strange to relate, this
phenomenon turned out to be millions of white butterflies of large
size. Some of these, when measured, I found to be four and five inches
across the wings. Darwin relates his having, in 1832, seen the same
sight, when his men exclaimed that it was "snowing butterflies."

The inhabitants of these trackless wilds are very, very few, but in all
directions I saw numbers of ostriches, which run at the least sign of
man, their enemy. The fastest horse could not outstrip this bird as
with wings outstretched he speeds before the hunter. As Job, perhaps
the oldest historian of the world, truly says: "What time she lifteth
herself up on high, she scorneth the horse and his rider." The male
bird joins his spouse in hatching the eggs, sitting on them perhaps
longer turns than the female, but the weather is so hot that little
brooding is required. I have had them on the shelf of my cupboard for a
week, when the little ones have forced their way out Forty days is the
time of incubation, so, naturally, those must have been already sat on
for thirty-three days. With open wings these giant birds often manage
to cover from twenty-five to forty-five eggs, although, I think, they
seldom bring out more than twenty. The rest they roll out of the nest,
where, soon rotting, they breed innumerable insects, and provide tender
food for the coming young. The latter, on arrival, are always reared by
the male ostrich, who, not being a model husband, ignominiously drives
away the partner of his joys. It might seem that he has some reason for
doing this, for the old historian before referred to says: "She is
hardened against her young ones as though they were not hers."

As the longest road leads somewhere, the glare of the whitewashed
church at last meets your longing gaze on the far horizon. The village
churches are always whitewashed, and an old man is frequently employed
to strike the hours on the tower bell by guess.

I was much struck by the sameness of the many different interior towns
and villages I visited. Each wore the same aspect of indolent repose,
and each was built in exact imitation of the other. Each town possesses
its plaza, where palms and other semi-tropical plants wave their leaves
and send out their perfume.

From the principal city to the meanest village, the streets all bear
the same names. In every town you may find a _Holy Faith street_, a
_St. John street_ and a _Holy Ghost street_, and these streets are
shaded by orange, lemon, pomegranate, fig and other trees, the fruit of
which is free to all who choose to gather. All streets are in all parts
in a most disgraceful condition, and at night beneath the heavy foliage
of the trees Egyptian darkness reigns. Except in daylight, it is
difficult to walk those wretched roads, where a goat often finds
progress a difficulty. Rotten fruit, branches of trees, ashes, etc.,
all go on the streets. A hole is often bridged over by a putrefying
animal, over which run half-naked urchins, pelting each other with
oranges or lemons--common as stones. When the highways are left in such
a state, is it to be wondered at that, while standing on my own
door-step, I have been able to count eleven houses where smallpox was
doing its deadly work, all within a radius of one hundred yards?

Even in the city of La Plata, the second of importance in Argentina, I
once had the misfortune to fall into an open drain while passing down
one of the principal streets. The night was intensely dark, and yet
there was no light left there to warn either pedestrian or
vehicle-driver, and _this sewer was seven feet deep_.

Simple rusticity and ignorance are the chief characteristics of the
country people. They used to follow and stare at me as though I were a
visitor from Mars or some other planet. When I spoke to them in their
language they were delighted, and respectfully hung on my words with
bared heads. When, however, I told them of electric cars and
underground railways, they turned away in incredulity, thinking that
such marvels as these could not possibly be.

Old World towns they seem to be. The houses are built of sun-baked mud
bricks, kneaded by mares that splash and trample through the oozy
substance for hours to mix it well. The poorer people build ranches of
long, slender canes or Indian cornstalks tied together by grass and
coated with mud. These are all erected around and about the most
imposing edifice in the place--the whitewashed adobe church.

All houses are hollow squares. The _patio_, with its well, is inside
this enclosure. Each house is lime-washed in various colors, and all
are flat-roofed and provided with grated windows, giving them a
prison-like appearance. The window-panes are sometimes made of mica.
Over the front doors of some of the better houses are pictures of the
Virgin. The nurse's house is designated by having over the doorway a
signboard, on which is painted a full-blooming rose, out of the petals
of which is peeping a little babe.

If you wish to enter a house, you do not knock at the door (an act that
would be considered great rudeness), but clap your hands, and you are
most courteously invited to enter. The good woman at once sets to work
to serve you with _mate_, and quickly rolls a cigar, which she hands to
you from her mouth, where she has already lighted it by a live ember of
charcoal taken from the fire with a spoon. Matches can be bought, but
they cost about ten cents a hundred. If you tell the housewife you do
not smoke she will stare at you in gaping wonder. Their children use
the weed, and I have seen a mother urge her three-year-old boy to whiff
at a cigarette.

Bound each dwelling is a _ramada_, where grapes in their season hang in
luxuriant clusters; and each has its own garden, where palms, peaches,
figs, oranges, limes, sweet potatoes, tobacco, nuts, garlic, etc., grow
luxuriantly. The garden is surrounded by a hedge of cacti or other
kindred plants. The prickly pear tree of that family is one of the
strangest I have seen. On the leaves, which are an inch or more in
thickness, grows the fruit, and I have counted as many as thirteen
pears growing on a single leaf. When ripe they are a deep red color,
and very sweet to the taste. The skin is thick, and covered with
innumerable minute prickles. It is, I believe, a most refreshing and
healthful food.

Meat is very cheap. A fine leg of mutton may be bought for the
equivalent of twelve cents, and good beef at four cents a pound. Their
favorite wine, _Lagrimas de San Juan_ (Tears of Holy John), can be
bought for ten cents a quart.

All cooking is done on braziers--a species of three-legged iron bucket
in which the charcoal fire is kindled. On this the little kettle,
filled from the well in the _patio_, is boiled for the inevitable
_mate_. About this herb I picked up, from various sources, some
interesting information. The _mate_ plant grows chiefly In Paraguay,
and is sent down the river in bags made of hides. From the village of
Tacurti Pucu in that country comes a strange account of the origin of
the _yerba mate_ plant, which runs thus: "God, accompanied by St. John
and St. Peter, came down to the earth and commenced to journey. One
day, after most difficult travel, they arrived at the house of an old
man, father to a virgin young and beautiful. The old man cared so much
for this girl, and was so anxious to keep her ever pure and innocent,
that they had gone to live in the depths of a forest. The man was very,
very poor, but willingly gave his heavenly visitors the best he could,
killing in their honor the only hen he possessed, which served for
supper. Noting this action, God asked St. Peter and St. John, when they
were alone, what they would do if they were Him. They both answered Him
that they would largely reward such an unselfish host. Bringing him to
their presence, God addressed him in these words: 'Thou who art poor
hast been generous, and I will reward thee for it. Thou hast a daughter
who is pure and innocent, and whom thou greatly lovest. I will make her
immortal, and she shall never disappear from earth.' Then God
transformed her into the plant of the yerba mate. Since then the herb
exists, and although it is cut down it springs up again." Other stories
run that the maiden still lives; for God, instead of turning her into
the mate plant, made her mistress of it, and she lives to help all
those who make a compact with her, Many men during "Holy week," if near
a town, visit the churches of Paraguay and formally promise to dedicate
themselves to her worship, to live in the woods and have no other
woman. After this vow they go to the forest, taking a paper on which
the priest has written their name. This they pin with a thorn on the
mate plant, and leave it for her to read. Thus she secures her devotees.

Roman Catholicism is not "_Semper Idem_," but adapts itself to its
surroundings.

Mate is drunk by all, from the babe to the centenarian; by the rich
cattle-owner, who drinks it from a chased silver cup through a golden
_bombilla_, to his servant, who is content with a small gourd, which
everywhere grows wild, and a tin tube. Tea, as we know it, is only to
be bought at the chemist's as a remedy for _nerves_. In other countries
it is said to be bad for nerves.

Each house possesses its private altar, where the saints are kept. That
sacred spot is veiled off when possible--if only by hanging in front of
it a cow's hide--from the rest of the dwelling. It consists, according
to the wealth or piety of the housewife, in expensive crosses, beads,
and pictures of saints decked out with costly care; or, it may be, but
one soiled lithograph surrounded by paper flowers or cheap baubles of
the poorer classes; but all are alike sacred. Everything of value or
beauty is collected and put as an offering to these deities--pieces of
 paper, birds' eggs, a rosy tomato or pomegranate, or any
 picture or bright tin. Descending from the ridiculous to the
gruesome, I have known a mother scrape and clean the bones of her dead
daughter in order that _they_ might be given a place on the altar.
Round this venerated spot the goodwife, with her palm-leaf broom,
sweeps with assiduous care, and afterwards carefully dusts her crucifix
and other devotional objects with her brush of ostrich feathers. Here
she kneels in prayer to the different saints. God Himself is never
invoked. Saint Anthony interests himself in finding her lost ring, and
Saint Roque is a wonderful physician in case of sickness. If she be a
maiden Saint Carmen will find her a suitable husband; if a widow, Saint
John will be a husband to her; and if an orphan, the sacred heart of
the Virgin of Carmen gives balsam to the forlorn one. Saint Joseph
protects the artisan, and if a candle is burnt in front of Saint Ramon,
he will most obligingly turn away the tempest or the lightning stroke.
In all cases one candle at least must be promised these mysterious
benefactors, and rash indeed would be the man or woman who failed to
burn the candle; some most terrible vengeance would surely overtake him
or his family.

God, as I have said, is never invoked. Perhaps He is supposed to sit in
solitary grandeur while the saints administer His affairs? These latter
are innumerable, and whatever may be their position in the minds of
Romanists in other lands, in South America they are distinct and
separate gods, and their graven image, picture or carving is worshipped
as such.

When religious questions have not arisen, life in those remote villages
has passed very pleasantly. The people live in great simplicity,
knowing scarcely anything of the outside world and its progress.

At the Feast of St. John the women take sheep and lambs, gaily
decorated with  ribbons, to church with them. That is an act of
worship, for the priest puts his hand on each lamb and blesses it. A
_velorio_ for the dead, or a dance at a child's death, are generally
the only meetings beside the church; but, as the poet says:

    "'Tis known, at least it should be, that throughout
     All countries of the Catholic persuasion,
    Some weeks before Shrove Tuiesiday comes about,
     The people take their fill of recreation,
    And buy repentance ere they grow devout,
     However high their rank or low their station,
    With fiddlling, feasting, dancing, drinking, masking,
    And other things which may be had for asking."

Carnival is a joyous time, and if for only once in the year the quiet
town then resounds with mirth. Pails of water are carried up to the
flat roofs of the houses, and each unwary pedestrian is in turn
deluged. At other times flour is substituted, and on the last day of
the feast ashes are thrown on all sides. At other seasons of the year
the streets are quiet, and after the rural pursuits of the day are
over, the guitar is brought out, and the evening breeze wafts waves of
music to each listening ear. The guitar is in all South America what
the bag-pipes are to Scotland-the national musical instrument of the
people. The Criollo plays mostly plaintive, broken airs--now so low as
to be almost inaudible, then high and shrill. Here and there he
accompanies the music with snatches of song, telling of an exploit or
describing the dark eyes of some lovely maiden. The airs strike one as
being very strange, and decidedly unlike the rolling songs of British
music.

In those interior towns a very quiet life may be passed, far away from
the whistle of the railway engine. Everything is simplicity itself, and
it might almost be said of some that _time itself seems at a
standstill_. During the heat of the day the streets are entirely
deserted; shops are closed, and all the world is asleep, for that is
the _siesta_ time. "They eat their dinners and go to sleep--and could
they do better?"

After this the barber draws his chair out to the causeway and shaves or
cuts his customer's hair. Women and children sit at their doors
drinking mate and watching the slowly drawn bullock-carts go up and
down the uneven, unmade roads, bordered, not by the familiar maple, but
with huge dust-covered cactus plants, The bullocks all draw with their
horns, and the indolent driver sits on the yoke, urging forward his
sleepy animals with a poke of his cane, on the end of which he has
fastened a sharp nail. The _buey_ is very thick-skinned and would not
heed a whip. The wheels of the cart are often cut from a solid piece of
wood, and are fastened on with great hardwood pins in a most primitive
style. Soon after sunset all retire to their trestle beds.

In early morning the women hurry to mass. The Criollo does not break
his fast until nearly mid-day, so they have no early meal to prepare.
Even before it is quite light it is difficult to pass along the streets
owing to the custom they have of carrying their praying-chairs with
them to mass. The rich lady will be followed by her dark-skinned maid
bearing a sumptuously upholstered chair on her head. The middle classes
carry their own, and the very poor take with them a palm-leaf mat of
their own manufacture. When mass is over religion is over for the day.
After service they make their way down to the river or pond, carrying
on their heads the soiled linen. Standing waist-high in the water, they
wash out the stains with black soap of their own manufacture, beating
each article with hardwood boards made somewhat like a cricketer's bat.
The cloths are then laid on the sand or stones of the shore. The women
gossip and smoke until these are dry and ready to carry home again ere
the heat becomes too intense.

In a description of Argentine village life, I could not possibly omit
the priest, the "all in all" to the native, the temporal and spiritual
king, who bears in his hands the destinies of the living and the dead.
These men are the potentates of the people, who refer everything to
them, from the most trivial matter to the weightier one of the saving
of their souls after death. Bigotry and superstition are extreme.

Renous, the naturalist, tells us that he visited one of these towns and
left some caterpillars with a girl. These she was to feed until his
return, that they might change to butterflies. When this was rumored
through the village, priest and governor consulted together and agreed
that it must be black heresy. When poor Renous returned some time
afterwards he was arrested.

The Argentine village priest is a dangerous enemy to the Protestant.
Many is the time he has insulted me to my face, or, more cowardly,
charged the school-boys to pelt and annoy me. In the larger towns the
priest has defamed me through the press, and when I have answered him
also by that means, he has heaped insult upon injury, excluded me from
society, and made me a pariah and a byword to the superstitious people.
I have been stoned and spat upon, hurled to the ground, had half-wild
dogs set on me, and my horse frightened that he might throw me. I have
been refused police help, or been called to the office to give an
account of myself, all because I was a Protestant, or infidel, as they
prefer to term it. At those times great patience was needed, for at the
least sign of resistance on my part I should have been attacked by the
whole village in one mass. The policeman on the street has looked
expectantly on, eager to see me do this, and on one occasion he
escorted me to the station for snatching a bottle from the hand of a
boy who was in the act of throwing it at my head. Arriving there I was
most severely reprimanded, although, fortunately, not imprisoned.

Women have crossed themselves and run from me in terror to seek the
holy water bottle blessed by the father. Doors have been shut in my
face, and angry voices bade me begone, at the instigation of this
black-robed believer in the Virgin. Congregations of worshippers in the
dark-aisled church have listened to a fabulous description of my
mission and character, until the barber would not cut my hair or the
butcher sell me his meat! Many a mother has hurriedly called her
children in and precipitately shut the door, that my shadow in passing
might not enter and pollute her home. Perhaps a senorita, more
venturesome, with her black hair hanging in two long plaits behind each
shoulder, has run to her iron-barred window to smile at me, and then
penitently fallen before her patron saint imploring forgiveness, or
hurried to confess her sin to the wily _padre_. If the confession was
accompanied by a gift, she has been absolved by him; if she were poor,
her tear-stained face, perhaps resembling that of the suffering Madonna
over the confessional, has moved his heart to tenderness, for well he
knows that

     "Maidens, like moths, are ever caught by glare,
     And Mammon wins his way where seraphs might despair."

The punishment imposed has only been that she repeat fifty or a hundred
_Ave Marias_ or _Paternosters_. Poor deluded creature! Her sin only
consisted in permitting her black eyes to gaze on me as I passed down
the street.

"These poor creatures often go to confession, not to be forgiven the
wretched past, but to get a new license to commit sin. One woman, to
whom we offered a tract, refused it, and, showing us an indulgence of
three hundred days, said: 'These are the papers I like.'"

A young university man in the capital confessed that he had never read
the New Testament and never would read it, because he knew it was
against the Church of Rome. The mass of the people have not the
slightest notion of goodness, as we count piety, and lying is not
considered wrong. A native will often entreat the help of his favorite
saint to commit a theft.

"To the Protestant the idea of religion without morals is
inconceivable; but in South America Romanism divorces morals and
religion. It is quite possible to break every command of the Decalogue
and yet be a devoted, faithful Romanist." [Footnote: Rev. J. H. La
Fetra, in "Protestant Missions in South America"]

I can only describe Roman Catholicism on the South American continent
as a species of heathenism. The Church, to gain proselytes, accepted
the old gods of the Indians as saints, and we find idolatrous
superstition and Catholic display blended together. The most ignorant
are invariably the most pious. The more civilized the Criollo becomes,
the less he believes in the Church, and the priest in return condemns
him to eternal perdition.

"It is not necessary to detail the multitude of pagan superstitions
with which the religion of South America is encumbered. It is enough to
point out that it does not preach Christ crucified and risen again. It
preaches Mary, whom it proclaims from the lips of thousands of
lecherous priests to be of perpetual virginity. And it is by its
deliberate falsehood and deceit, as well as by its misrepresentation,
that the Roman Catholic Church in South America has not only not taught
Christianity, but has directly fostered deception and untruth of
character." [Footnote: Missions in South America. Robert E. Speer.]

When I desired respectfully to enter a church with bared head and
deferential mien, they have followed me to see that I did not steal the
trinkets from the saints or desecrate the altar. If I have touched the
font of holy water, instead of it purifying me, I have defiled it for
their use; and when I have looked at the images of the saints the
people have seen them frown at me. After my exit the priest would
sprinkle holy water on the spots where I had stood, to drive away "the
evil influence."

In those churches one may see an image, with inscription beneath,
stating that those who kiss it receive an indulgence for sin and a
promise of heaven. When preaching in Parana I inadvertently dropped a
word in disparagement of the worship of the Virgin, when, quick as
thought, a man dashed towards me with gleaming steel. The Criollo's
knife never errs, and one sharp lunge too well completes his task; but
an old Paraguayan friend then with me sprang upon him and dashed the
knife to the ground, thus leaving my heart's blood warm within me, and
not on the pavement. I admired my antagonist for the strength of his
convictions--true loyalty he displayed for his goddess, who, however,
does not, I am sure, teach her devotees to assassinate those who prefer
to put their faith rather in her Divine Son. Had I been killed the
priest would on no account have buried me, and would most willingly
have absolved the assassin and kept him from the "arm of justice." That
arm in those places is very short indeed, for I have myself met dozens
of murderers rejoicing in their freedom. Hell is only for Protestants.

On the door of my lodging I found one morning a written paper, well
pasted on, which read:

MUERA! VIVA LA VIRGEN CON TODOS LOS SANTOS!

"_Die! Live the Virgin and all the Saints!_" That paper I took from the
door and keep as a souvenir of fanaticism.

The Bible is an utterly unknown book, except to the priests, who forbid
its entrance to the houses. It, however, could do little good or harm,
for the masses of the people are utterly unlettered. All Protestant
literature stolen into the town is invariably gathered and burned by
the priest, who would not hesitate also to burn the bringer if he could
without fear of some after-enquiry into the matter.


[Illustration: THE WORLD'S LARGFST ROCKING STONE, TANDIL, ARGENTINA.
This immense stone is so evenly poised that the wind or the slightest
touch of the hand sets it in motion but the storms of the centuries
have failed to dislodge it.]


Rome is to-day just what she always was. Her own claim and motto is:
_Semper idem_ (Always the same). But for this age of enlightenment her
inquisitorial fires would still burn. "Rome's contention is, not that
she does not persecute, but only that she does not persecute _saints_.
She punishes heretics--a very different thing. In the Rhemish New
Testament there is a note on the words, 'drunken with the blood of
saints,' which runs as follows: 'Protestants foolishly expound this of
Rome _because heretics are there put to death_. But _their_ blood is
not called _the blood of saints_, any more than the blood of thieves or
man-killers, or other malefactors; and for the shedding of it no
commonwealth shall give account.'"

During my residence in Argentina a Jesuit priest in Cordoba publicly
stated that if he had his way he would burn to death every Protestant
in the country.

The following statements are from authorized documents, laws and
decrees of the Papacy:

"The papacy teaches all her adherents that it is a sacred duty to
exterminate heresy.

"Urban II. issued a decree that the murder of heretics was excusable.
'We do not count them murderers who, burning with the zeal of their
Catholic mother against the excommunicate, may happen to have slain
some of them.'" [Footnote: "Romanism and Reformation."]

In Argentine life the almanac plays an important part; in that each day
is dedicated to the commemoration of some saint, and the child born
must of necessity be named after the saint on whose day he or she
arrives into the world. The first question is, "What name does it
bring?" The baby may have chosen to come at a time when the calendar
shows an undesirable name, still the parents grumble not, for a saint
is a saint, and whatever names they bear must be good. The child is,
therefore, christened "Caraciollo," or "John Baptist," when, instead of
growing up to be a forerunner of Christ, he or she may, with more
likelihood, be a forerunner of the devil. Whatever name a child brings,
however, has Mary tacked on to it.

All names serve equally well for male or female children, as a
concluding "o" or "a" serves to distinguish the sex. Many men bear the
name of Joseph Mary. Numbers, also, both male and female, have been
baptized by the name of "Jesus," "Saviour," or "Redeemer." If I were
asked the old question, "What's in a name?" I should answer, "Very
little," for in South America the most insolent thief will often boast
in the appellation of _Don Justice_, and the lowest girl in the village
may be _Senorita Celestial_. _Don Jesus_ may be found incarcerated for
riotous conduct, and I have known _Don Saviour_ throw his unfortunate
wife and children down a well; _Don Destroyer_ would have been a more
appropriate name for him. _Mrs. Angel_ her husband sometimes finds not
such an angel after all, when she puts poison into his mate cup, a not
infrequent occurrence. Let none be deceived in thinking that the
appellation is any index to a man's character.

Dark, needy people--Rome's true children!

The school-books read: Which is the greatest country? _Ans._, Spain.
Who is the greatest man? _Ans._, The Pope. Why? Because he is
infallible.

It is his wish, and the priest's duty, to keep them in this darkness.
Yet,--One came from God, "a light to lighten the Gentiles," and He
said, "I am the Light of the world." Some day they may hear of Him and
themselves see the Light.

Already the day is breaking, and superstition must prepare to hide
itself. The uneducated native no longer pursues the railway train at
thundering pace to lasso it because the priest raved against its being
built. He even in some cases doubts if it is "an invention of hell," as
he was taught.

The educated native, Alberdi, a publicist and an advocate of freedom,
in the discussion over religious rights of foreigners in the Argentine,
wrote: "Spanish America reduced to Catholicism, with the exclusion of
any other cult, represents a solitary and silent convent of monks. The
dilemma is fatal,--either Catholics and unpopulated, or populated and
prosperous and tolerant in the matter of religion."




CHAPTER IV.

TEE PRAIRIE AND ITS INHABITANTS.


The Pampas, or prairie lands of the Argentine, stretch to the south and
west of Buenos Ayres, and cover some 800,000 square miles. On this vast
level plain, watered by sluggish streams or shallow lakes, boundless as
the ocean, seemingly limitless in extent, there is an exhilarating air
and a rich herbage on which browse countless herds of cattle, horses,
and flocks of sheep. The grass grows tall, and miles upon miles of rich
scarlet, white, or yellow flowers mingle with or overtop it. Beds of
thistles, in which the cattle completely hide themselves, stretch away
for leagues and leagues, and present an almost unbroken sheet of purple
flowers. So vast are these thistle-beds that a day's ride through them
only leaves the traveller with the same purple forest stretching away
to the horizon. The florist would be enchanted to see whole tracts of
land covered by the _Verbena Melindres_, which appears, even long
before you reach it, to be of a bright scarlet. There are also acres
and acres of the many-flowered camomile and numberless other plants;
while large tracts of low-lying land are covered with coarse pampa
grass, affording shelter for numberless deer, and many varieties of
ducks, cranes, flamingoes, swans and turkeys. Wood there is none, with
the exception of a solitary tree here and there at great distances,
generally marking the site of some cattle establishment OP _estancia_.
An _ombu_, or cluster of blue gums, is certain to be planted there.

On this prairie, man, notwithstanding the fact that he is the "lord of
creation," is decidedly in the minority. Millions of four-footed
animals roam the plains, but he may be counted by hundreds. Let us turn
to him, however, in his isolated home, for the _Gaucho_ has been
described as one of the most interesting races on the face of the
earth. A descendant of the old conquerors, who, leaving their fair ones
in the Spanish peninsula, took unto them as wives the unclothed women
of the new world, he inherits the color and habits of the one with the
vices and dignity of the other. Living the wild, free life of the
Indian, and retaining the language of Spain; the finest horseman of the
world, and perhaps the worst assassin; the most open-handed and
hospitable, yet the accomplished purloiner of his neighbor's cattle;
imitating the Spaniard in the beautifully-chased silver trappings of
his horse, and the untutored Indian in his miserable adobe hovel;
spending his whole wealth in heavy gold or silver bell-shaped stirrups,
bridle, or spurs (the rowel of the latter sometimes having a diameter
of six inches), and leaving his home destitute of the veriest
necessities of life--such is the Gaucho. A horn or shell from the
river's bed makes his spoon, gourds provide him with his plates and
dishes; but his knife, with gold or silver handle and sheath, is almost
a little fortune in itself. Content in his dwelling to sit on a
bullock's skull, on horseback his saddle must be mounted in silver. His
own beard and hair he seldom trims, but his horse's mane and tail must
be assiduously tended. The baked-mud floor of his abode is littered
with filth and dirt, while he raves at a speck of mud on his
embroidered silk saddle-cloth.

The Gaucho is a strange contradiction. He has blushed at my good but
plain-looking saddle, yet courteously asked me to take a skull seat. He
may possess five hundred horses, but you search his kitchen in vain for
a plate. If you please him he will present you with his best horse,
waving away your thanks. If you displease him, his long knife will just
as readily find its way to your heart, for he kills his enemies with as
little compunction as he kills the ostrich. "The Gaucho, with his proud
and dissolute air, is the most unique of all South American characters.
He is courageous and cruel, active and tireless. Never more at ease
than when on the wildest horse; on the ground, out of his element. His
politeness is excessive, his nature fierce." The children do not, like
ours, play with toys, but delight the parents' hearts by teasing a cat
or dog. These they will stick with a thorn or pointed bone to hear them
yell, or, later on, lasso and half choke them. "They will put out their
eyes, and such like childish games, innocent little darlings that they
are." Cold-blooded torture is their delight, and they will cheer at the
sight of blood.

To describe the dress of this descendant of Adam I feel myself
incapable. A shirt and a big slouch hat seem to be the only articles of
attire like ours. Coat, trousers or shoes he does not wear. Instead of
the first mentioned, he uses the _poncho_, a long, broad blanket, with
a slit in the centre to admit his head. For trousers he wears very wide
white drawers, richly embroidered with broad needlework and stiffly
starched. Over these he puts a black _chiripa_, which really I cannot
describe other than as similar to the napkins the mother provides for
her child. Below this black and white leg covering come the long boots,
made from one piece of seamless hide. These boots are nothing more than
the skin from the hind legs of an animal--generally a full-grown horse.
The bend of the horse's leg makes the boot's heel. Naturally the toes
protrude, and this is not sewn up, for the Gaucho never puts more than
his big toe in the stirrup, which, like the bit in his horse's mouth,
must be of solid silver. A dandy will beautifully scallop these rawhide
boots around the tops and toes, and keep them soft with an occasional
application of grease. No heel is ever attached. Around the man's
waist, holding up his drawers and chiripa, is wound a long 
belt, with tasseled ends left hanging over his boot, down the right
side; and over that he invariably wears a broad skin belt, clasped at
the front with silver and adorned all around with gold or silver coins.
In this the long knife is carried.

What shall I say of the domestic life of these people? Unfortunately,
marriage is practically unknown among them. The father gives his son a
few cattle, and the young man, after building himself a house, conducts
thither his chosen one. Unhappily, constancy in either man or woman is
a rare virtue.

Of the superstitious side of the Gancho race I might speak much. In the
saints the female especially implicitly believes. These, her deities,
are all-powerful, and to them she appeals for the satisfaction of her
every desire. Saint Clementina's help is sought by the girl when her
lover betrays her. Another saint will aid her in poisoning him. If the
wife thinks her husband long in bringing the evening meal, she has
informed me, a word with Saint Anthony is sufficient, and she hears the
sound of his horse's hoofs. Saint Anthony seems to be useful on many
occasions of distress. One evening I called at a _rancho_ made of dry
thistle-stalks bound together with hide and thatched with reeds,
Finding the inmates very hospitable, I stayed there two or three hours
to rest. Coming out of the house again, I found to my dismay that
during our animated gossip my horse had broken loose and left me. Now
the loss of a horse is too trivial a matter to interest Anthony the
saint, but a horse having saddle and bridle attached to him makes it
quite a different matter, for these often cost ten times the price of
the horse. One of the saint's especial duties is to find a lost saddled
horse, if the owner or interested one only promises to burn a candle in
his honor. The night was very dark, and no sign of the animal was to be
seen. Mine host laid his ear to the ground and listened, then, leaping
on his horse, he galloped into the darkness, from whence he brought my
lost animal. I did not learn until afterwards that Mrs. Jesus, for such
was the woman's name, had sought the help of Saint Anthony on my
behalf. I am sure she lost her previous good opinion of me when I
thanked her husband but did not offer a special  candle to her
saint.

Among these strange people I commenced a school, and had the joy of
teaching numbers of them to read the Spanish Bible. Boys and girls came
long distances on horseback, and, although some of them had perhaps
never seen a book before, I found them exceedingly quick to learn. In
four or five months the older ones were able to read any ordinary
chapter. In arithmetic they were inconceivably dull, and after three
months' tuition some of them could not count ten.

I have said the saints are greatly honored among these people. My
Christmas cards generally found their way to adorn their altars. Every
house has its favorite, and some of these are regarded as especially
clever in curing sickness. It being a very unhealthful, low-lying
district where my school was, I contracted malarial fever, and went to
bed very sick. Every day some of the children would come to enquire
after me, but Celestino, one of the larger boys, came one morning with
a very special message from his mother. This communication was to the
effect that they did not wish the school-teacher to die, he being
"rather a nice kind of a man and well liked." Because of this she would
be pleased to let me have her favorite saint. This image I could stand
at the head of my bed, and its very presence would cure me. When I
refused this offer and smiled at its absurdity, the boy thought me very
strange. To be so wise in some respects, and yet so ignorant as to
refuse such a chance, was to him incomprehensible. The saints, I found,
are there often lent out to friends that they may exercise their
healing powers, or rented out to strangers at so much a day, When they
are not thus on duty, but in a quiet corner of the hut, they get
lonely. The woman will then go for a visit, taking her saint with her,
either in her arms or tied to the saddle. This image she will place
with the saint her host owns, and _they will talk together and teach
one another_. A saint is supposed to know only its own particular work,
although one named Santa Rita is said to be a worker of
impossibilities. Some of them are only very rudely carved images,
dressed in tawdry finery. I have sometimes thought that a Parisian doll
of modern make, able to open and close its eyes, etc., would in their
esteem be even competent to raise the dead! [Footnote: Writing of
Spanish American Romanism, Everybody's Magazine says: "To the student
of human nature, which means the study of evil as well as good, this
religious body is of absorbing interest. One would look to find these
enthusiasts righteous and virtuous in their daily life; but, apart from
the annual week of penance, their religion influences them not at all,
and on the whole the members of the Brotherhood constitute a desperate
class, dangerous to society."]

In cases of sickness very simple remedies are used, and not a few
utterly nonsensical. To cure pains in the stomach they tie around them
the skin of the _comadreka_, a small, vile-smelling animal. This they
told me was a sovereign remedy. If the sufferer be a babe, a cross made
on its stomach is sufficient to perfectly cure it. I have seen seven
pieces of the root of the white lily, which there grows wild, tied
around the neck of an infant in order that its teeth might come with
greater promptitude and less pain. A string of dog's teeth serves the
same purpose. To cure a bad wound, the priest will be called in that he
may write around the sore some Latin prayer backwards. Headache is
easily cured by tying around the head the cast-off skin of a snake. Two
puppies are killed and bound one on each side of a broken limb. If a
charm is worn around the neck no poison can be harmful. For a sore
throat it is sufficient to expectorate in the fire three times, making
a cross. Lockjaw is effectually stopped by tying around the sufferer's
jaws the strings from a virgin's skirt; and they say also that powdered
excrement of a dog, taken in a glass of water, cures the smallpox
patient,

As Mrs. Jesus sent her boy to my school, so Mrs. Flower sent her girl.
The latter was perhaps the most deluded woman I have met. Her every act
was bad in itself or characterized by superstitious devotion. She was
one of the Church's favorite worshippers, and while I was in the
neighborhood she sold her cows and horses and presented the priest at
the nearest town with a large and expensive silver cross--the emblem of
suffering purity. Near her lived a person for whom she had an especial
aversion, but that enemy she got rid of in surely the strangest of
ways, which she described to me. Catching a snake, and holding it so
that its poison might not reach her, she passed a threaded needle
through both its eyes. When this was done she let it go again, alive,
and, carefully guarding the needle, approached the person from behind
and made a cross with the thread. The undesired one disappeared, having
probably heard of the enchantment, and being equally superstitious,
or--the charm worked!

Mrs. Flower was a most repulsive-looking creature. Her skin was exactly
the color of an old copper coin. She did not resemble any _flower_ I
have seen in either hemisphere. Far was she from being a rose, but she
certainly possessed the thorn. Her love for the saints was most marked,
and I have known her promise St. Roque that she would walk six miles
carrying his image if he would only grant her a certain prayer. This
petition he granted, and off she trudged with her divine (?) load.
Those acquainted with dwellers on the prairie know that this was indeed
a great task, horses being so cheap and riding so universal. Mrs.
Flower was unaccustomed to walk even the shortest distance. I myself
can bear witness to the fact that even strong men find it hard to walk
a mile after spending years in equestrian travel. The native tells you
that God formed your legs so that you might be able to sit on a horse
rather than to walk with them. A favorite expression with them is, "I
was born on horseback."

Stone not being found on the pampas, these people generally build their
houses of square sods, with a roof of plaited grasses--sometimes I have
observed these beautifully woven together. Two or more holes, according
to the size of the house, are left to serve for door and window. Wood
cannot be obtained, glass has not been introduced, so the holes are
left as open spaces, across which, when the pampa wind blows, a hide is
stretched. No hole is left in the roof for the smoke of the fire to
escape, for this to the native is no inconvenience whatever. When I
have been compelled to fly with racking cough and splitting head, he
has calmly asked the reason. Never could I bear the blinding smoke that
issues from his fire of sheep or cow dung burning on the earthen floor,
though he heeds it not as, sitting on a bullock's skull, he ravenously
eats his evening meal.

If entertaining a stranger, he will press uncut joint after joint of
his _asado_ upon him. This asado is meat roasted over the fire on a
spit; if beef, with the skin and hair still attached. Meat cooked in
this way is a real delicacy. A favorite dish with them (I held a
different opinion) is a half-formed calf, taken before its proper time
of birth. The meat is often dipped in the ashes in lieu of salt. I have
said the Gaucho has no chair. I might add that neither has he a table,
for with his fingers and knife he eats the meat off the fire. Forks he
is without, and a horn or shell spoon conveys the soup to his mouth
direct from the copper pan. So universal is the use of the shell for
this service that the native does not speak of it as _caracol_, the
real word for shell, but calls it _cuchara del agua_, or water spoon.
Of knives he possesses more than enough, and heavy, long, sharp-pointed
ones they are. When his hunger is appeased the knife goes, not to the
kitchen, but to his belt, where, when not in his hand, you may always
see it. With that weapon he kills a sheep, cuts off the head of a
serpent--seemingly, however, not doing it much harm, for it still
wriggles--sticks his horse when in anger, and, alas, as I have said,
sometimes stabs his fellow-man. Being so far isolated from the coast,
he is necessarily entirely uneducated. The forward march of the outer
world concerns him not; indeed he imagines that his native prairie
stretches away to the end of the world. He will gaze with wonder on
your watch, for his only mode of ascertaining the time is by the shadow
the sun casts. As that luminary rises and sets, so he sleeps and wakes.
His only bed is the sheepskin, which when riding he fastens over his
saddle, and the latter article forms his pillow. His coverlet is the
firmament of heaven, the Southern Cross and other constellations,
unseen by dwellers in the Northern Hemisphere, seeming to keep watch
over him; or in the colder season his poncho, which I have already
described. Around his couch flit the fireflies, resembling so many
stars of earth with their strangely radiant lights. The brightness of
one, when held near the face of my watch, made light enough to enable
me to ascertain the hour, even on the darkest night.

The Gaucho with his horse is at home anywhere. When on a journey he
will stop for the evening meal beside the dry bones of some dead
animal. With these and grass he will make a fire and cook the meat he
carries hanging behind him on the saddle. I have known an animal killed
and the meat cooked with its own bones, but this is not usual. Dry
bones burn better, and thistle-stalks better still. He will then lie
down on mother earth with the horse-cloth under him and the saddle for
a pillow. When travelling with these men I have known them, without any
comment, stretch themselves on the ground, even though the rain was
falling, and soon be in dreamland. After having passed a wretched night
myself, I have asked them, "How did you sleep?" _"Muy Bien, Senor"_
(Very good, sir), has been the invariable answer. They would often
growl much, however, over the wet saddle-cloths, for these soon cause a
horse's back to become sore.

Here and there, but sometimes at long distances apart, there is a
_pulperia_ on the road. This is always designated by having a white
flag flying on the end of a long bamboo. At these places cheap spirits
of wine and very bad rum can be bought, along with tobacco, hard
ship-biscuits (very often full of maggots, as I know only too well),
and a few other more necessary things. I have observed in some of these
wayside inns counters made of turf, built in blocks as bricks would be.
Here the natives stop to drink long and deep, and stew their meagre
brains in bad spirits. These draughts result in quarrels and sometimes
in murder.

The Gaucho, like the Indian, cannot drink liquor without becoming
maddened by it. He will then do things which in his sober moments he
would not dream of. I was acquainted with a man who owned a horse of
which he was very fond This animal bore him one evening to a pulperia
some miles distant, and was left tied outside while he imbibed his fill
inside. Coming out at length beastly intoxicated, he mounted his horse
and proceeded homeward. Arriving at a fork in the path, the faithful
horse took the one leading home, but the rider, thinking in his stupor
that the other way was the right one, turned the horse's head. As the
poor creature wanted to get home and have the saddle taken off, it
turned again. This affront was too much for the Gaucho, who is a man of
volcanic passions, so drawing his knife, he stabbed it in the neck, and
they dropped to the ground together. When he realized that he had
killed his favorite horse he cried like a child. I passed this dead
animal several times afterwards and saw the vultures clean its bones.
It served me as a witness to the results of ungoverned passion.

The Gaucho does not, and would not under any consideration, ride a
mare; consequently, for work she is practically valueless. Strain, who
rode across the pampas, says: "In a single year ten million hides were
exported." For one or two dollars each the buyer may purchase any
number; indeed, of such little worth are the mares that they are very
often killed for their hide, or to serve as food for swine. At one
estancia I visited I was informed that one was killed each day for pig
feed. The mare can be driven long distances, even a hundred miles a
day, for several successive days, The Argentine army must surely be the
most mobile of any in the world, for its soldiers, when on the march,
get nothing but mare's flesh and the custom gives them great facility
of movement. The horse has, more or less, its standard value, and costs
four or five times the price of the mare.


[Illustration: THE AUTHOR IN GAUCHO DRESS.]


Sometimes it happens that the native finds a colt which is positively
untamable. On the cheek of such an animal the Gaucho will burn a cross
and then allow it to go free, like the scape-goat mentioned in the book
of Leviticus.

The native horse is rather small, but very wiry and wild. I was once
compelled, through sickness, to make a journey of ninety-seven miles,
being in the saddle for seventeen consecutive hours, and yet my poor
horse was unable to get one mouthful of food on the journey, and the
saddle was not taken off his back for a moment. He was very wild, yet
one evening between five and eight o'clock, he bore me safely a
distance of thirty-six miles, and returned the same distance with me on
the following morning. He had not eaten or drunk anything during the
night, for the locusts had devoured all pasturage and no rain had
fallen for a space of five months.

The horse is not indigenous to America, although Darwin tells us that
South America had a native horse, which lived and disappeared ages ago.
Spanish history informs us that they were first landed in Buenos Ayres
in 1537. We are further told that the Indians flew away in terror at
the sight of a man on horseback, which they took to be one animal of a
strange, two-headed shape. When the colony was for a time deserted
these horses were suffered to run wild. Those animals so multiplied and
spread over such a vast area that they were found, forty-three years
later, even down to the Straits of Magellan, a distance of eleven
hundred miles. With good pasture and a limitless expanse to roam over,
they soon turned from the dozens to thousands, and may now be counted
by millions. The Patagonian "foot" Indians quickly turned into "horse"
Indians, for on those wide prairie lands a man without a horse is
almost comparable to a man without legs. In former years, thousands of
wild horses roamed over these extensive plains, but the struggle of
mankind in the battle of life turned men's attention to them, and they
were captured and branded by whomsoever had the power and cared to take
the trouble. In the more isolated districts, there may still be found
numbers which are born and die without ever feeling the touch of saddle
or bridle. Far away from the crowded busses and perpetually moving
hansoms of the city, they feel not the driver's whip nor the strain of
the wagon, as, with tail trailing on the ground and head erect, they
gallop in freedom of life. Happy they!

In all directions on the prairie ostriches are found. The natives catch
them with _boliadoras_, an old Indian weapon, which is simply three
round stones, incased in bags of hide, tied together by twisted ropes,
also of hide. When the hunters have, by galloping from different
directions, baffled the bird in his flight, they thunder down upon him,
and, throwing the _boliadoras_ round his legs, where they entangle,
effectually stop his flight. I have seen this weapon thrown a distance
of about eighty yards.

The ostrich is a bird with wonderful digestive powers, which I often
have envied him; he eats grass or pebbles, insects or bones, as suits
his varying fancy. If you drop your knife or any other article, he will
stop to examine it, being most inquisitive, and, if possible, he will
swallow it. The flesh of the ostrich is dry and tough, and its feathers
are not to be compared in beauty with those of the African specimen.
Generally a very harmless bird, he is truly formidable during breeding
time. If one of the eggs is so much as touched he will break the whole
number to shivers. Woe to the man whom he savagely attacks at such
times; one kick of his great foot, with its sharp claws, is sufficient
to open the body of man or horse. The Gaucho uses the skin from the
neck of this bird as a tobacco pouch, and the eggs are considered a
great delicacy. One is equal to about sixteen hen's eggs.

As all creation has its enemy, the ostrich finds his in the _iguana_,
or lizard--an unsightly, scaly, long-tailed species of land crocodile.
This animal, when full-grown, attains the length of five feet, and is
of a dark green color. He, when he can procure them, feeds on the
ostrich eggs, which I believe must be a very strengthening diet. The
lizard, after fattening himself upon them during the six hotter months
of the year, is enabled to retire to the recesses of his cave, where he
tranquilly sleeps through the remaining six. The shell of the ostrich's
egg is about the thickness of an antique china cup, but the iguana
finds no difficulty in breaking it open with a slash of his tail This
wily animal is more astute than the bird, which lays its eggs in the
open spaces, for the lizard, with her claws, digs a hole in the ground,
in which hers are dropped to the number of dozens. The lizard does not
provide shells for her eggs, but only covers them with a thick, soft
skin, and they, buried in the soil, eventually hatch themselves.

When the Gaucho cannot obtain a better meal, the tail of the lizard is
not considered such a despicable dish by him, for he is no epicure.
When he has nothing he is also contented. His philosophy is: _"Nunca
tenga hambre cuando no hay que comer"_ (Never be hungry when no food is
to be had).

The estancia, or catile ranch, is a feature of the Argentine prairie.
Some of these establishments are very large, even up to one hundred
square miles in extent. On them hundreds of thousands of cattle, sheep
and horses are herded. "It is not improbable that there are more cattle
in the pampas and llanos of South America than in all the rest of the
world." [Footnote: Dr. Hartwig in "Argentina," 1910] An estancia is
almost invariably called by the name of some saint, as are the
different fields belonging to it. "Holy Mary field" and "Saint Joseph
field" are common names. Notwithstanding the fact that there may be
thousands of cows on a ranch, the visitor may be unable to get a drop
of milk to drink. "Cows are not made to milk, but to eat," they say.
Life on these establishments is rough and the fare generally very
coarse. Even among the wealthy people I have visited you may sit down
to dinner with nothing but meat put before you, without a bite of bread
or any vegetables. All drink water out of an earthenware pitcher of
peculiar shape, which is the centrepiece of the table.

Around the ranches of the people are many mice, which must be of a
ferocious nature, for if one is caught in a trap it will be found next
morning half, if not almost wholly, eaten by its own comrades. Well is
it called "the cannibal mouse."

In times of drought the heat of the sun dries up all vegetation. The
least spark of fire then suffices to create a mighty blaze, especially
if accompanied by the _pampero_ wind, which blows with irresistible
force in its sweep over hundreds of miles of level ground. The fire,
gathering strength as it goes, drives all before it, or wraps
everything in its devouring flames. Casting a lurid light in the
heavens, towards which rise volumes of smoke, it attracts the attention
of the native, who lifts his starting eyes towards heaven in a
speechless prayer to the Holy Virgin. Madly leaping on his fleetest
horse, without saddle, and often without bridle, he wildly gallops down
the wind, as the roaring, crackling fire gains upon him. In this mad
race for life, men, horses, ostriches, deer, bullocks, etc., join,
striving to excel each other in speed. Strange to say, the horse the
native rides, cheered on by the touch of his master, is often the first
to gain the lake or river, where, beneath its waters at least, refuge
may be found. In their wild stampede, vast herds of cattle trample and
fall on one another and are drowned. A more complete destruction could
not overtake the unfortunate traveller than to be caught by this
remorseless foe, for not even his ashes could be found by mourning
friends. The ground thus burnt retains its heat for days. I have had
occasion to cross blackened wastes a week after this most destructive
force in nature had done its work, and my horse has frequently reared
in the air at the touch of the hot soil on his hoofs.

The Gaucho has a strange method of fighting these fires. Several mares
are killed and opened, and they, by means of lassos, are dragged over
the burning grass.

The immensity of the pampas is so great that one may travel many miles
without sighting a single tree or human habitation. The weary traveller
finds his only shade from the sun's pitiless rays under the broad brim
of his sombrero. At times, with ears forward and extended nostrils, the
horse gazes intently at the rippling blue waters of the _mirage_, that
most tantalizingly deceptive phenomenon of nature. May it never be the
lot of my reader to be misled by the illusive mirage as I have been.
How could I mistake vapor for clear, gurgling water? Yet, how many
times was I here deceived! Visions of great lakes and broad rivers rose
up before me, lapping emerald green shores, where I could cool my
parched tongue and lave in their crystal depths; yet to-day those
waters are as far off as ever, and exist only in my hopes of Paradise.
Not until I stand by the "River of Life" shall I behold the reality.

The inhabitant of these treeless, trackless solitudes, which, with
their waving grass, remind one of the bosom of the ocean, develops a
keen sight Where the stranger, after intently gazing, descries nothing,
he will not only inform him that animals are in sight, but will,
moreover, tell him what they are. I am blest with a very clear vision,
but even when, after standing on my horse's back, I have made out
nothing, the Gaucho could tell me that over there was a drove of
cattle, a herd of deer, a troop of horses, or a house.

It is estimated that there are two hundred and forty millions of acres
of wheat land in the Argentine, and of late years the prairie has
developed into one of the largest wheat-producing countries in the
world, and yet only one per cent, of its cultivable area is so far
occupied.

The Gaucho is no farmer, and all his land is given up to cattle
grazing, so _chacras_ are worked generally by foreign settlers. The
province of Entre Rios has been settled largely by Swiss and Italian
farmers from the Piedmont Hills. Baron Hirsch has also planted a colony
of Russian Jews there, and provided them with farm implements. Wheat,
corn, and linseed are the principal crops, but sweet potatoes, tobacco,
and fruit trees do well in this virgin ground, fertilized by the dead
animals of centuries. The soil is rich, and two or three crops can
often be harvested in a year.

No other part of the world has in recent years suffered from such a
plague of locusts as the agricultural districts of Argentina. They come
from the north in clouds that sometimes darken the sun. Some of the
swarms have been estimated to be sixty miles long and from twelve to
fifteen miles wide. Fields which in the morning stand high with waving
corn, are by evening only comparable to ploughed or burnt lands. Even
the roots are eaten up.

In 1907 the Argentine Government organized a bureau for the destruction
of locusts, and in 1908 $4,500,000 was placed by Congress at the
disposal of this commission. An organized service, embracing thousands
of men, is in readiness at any moment to send a force to any place
where danger is reported. Railway trains have been repeatedly stopped,
and literally many tons of them have had to be taken off the track. A
fine of $100 is imposed upon any settler failing to report the presence
of locust swarms or hopper eggs on his land. Various means are adopted
by the land-owner to save what he can from the voracious insects. Men,
women and children mount their horses and drive flocks of sheep to and
fro over the ground to kill them. A squatter with whom I stayed got his
laborers to gallop a troop of mares furiously around his garden to keep
them from settling there. All, however, seemed useless. About midsummer
the locust lays its eggs under an inch or two of soil. Each female will
drop from thirty to fifty eggs, all at the same time, in a mass
resembling a head of wheat. As many as 50,000 eggs have been counted in
a space less than three and a half feet square.

During my sojourn in Entre Rios, the province where this insect seems
to come in greatest numbers, a law was passed that every man over the
age of fourteen years, whether native or foreigner, rich or poor, was
compelled to dig out and carry to Government depots, four pounds weight
of locusts' eggs. It was supposed that this energetic measure would
lessen their numbers. Many tons were collected and burnt, but, I assure
the reader, no appreciable difference whatever was made in their
legions. The young _jumpers_ came, eating all before them, and their
numbers seemed infinite. Men dug trenches, kindled fires, and burned
millions of them. Ditches two yards wide and deep and two hundred feet
long were completely filled up by these living waves. But all efforts
were unavailing--the earth remained covered. A Waldensian acquaintance
suffered for several years from this fearful plague. Some seasons he
was not even able to get back so much as the seed he planted. If the
locusts passed him, it so happened that the _pampero_ wind blew with
such terrific force that we have looked in vain even for the straw. The
latter was actually torn up by the roots and whirled away, none knew
whither. At other times large hailstones, for which the country is
noted, have destroyed everything, or tens of thousands of green
paroquets have done their destructive work. When a five-months' drought
was parching everything, I have heard him reverently pray that God
would spare him wheat sufficient to feed his family. This food God gave
him, and he thankfully invited me to share it. I rejoice in being able
to say that he afterwards became rich, and had his favorite saying,
_"Dios no me olvidae"_ (God will not forget me), abundantly verified.

Notwithstanding natural drawbacks, which every country has, Argentina
can claim to have gone forward as no other country has during the last
ten years. There are many estates worth more than a million dollars.
Dr. W. A. Hirot, in "Argentina," says: "Argentina has more live stock
than any other country of the world. Ten million hides have been
exported in one year, and it is not improbable that there are more
cattle in South America than there are in all the rest of the world
combined." Belgium has 220 people occupying the space one person has in
Argentina, so who can prophesy as to its future?




PART II.

BOLIVIA


[Illustration]

   Have you gazed on naked grandeur where there's nothing
    else to gaze on,
   Set pieces and drop curtain scenes galore,
   Big mountains heaved to heaven, which the blinding sunsets
    blazon,
   Black canyons where the rapids rip and roar?

          --_Robert W. Service._




BOLIVIA

Bolivia, having no sea-coast, has been termed the Hermit Republic of
South America. Its territory is over 600,000 square miles in extent,
and within its bounds Nature displays almost every possible panorama,
and all climates. There are burning plains, the home of the emu,
armadillos, and ants; sandy deserts, where the wind drifts the sand
like snow, piling it up in ever-shifting hills about thirty feet in
height. Bolivia, shut in geographically and politically, is a world in
itself--a world of variety, in scenery, climate, products and people.
Its capital city, La Paz, has a population of 70,000, but the vast
interior is almost uninhabited. In the number of inhabitants to the
square mile, Bolivia ranks the lowest of all the nations of the earth.

Perhaps no country of the world has been, and is, so rich in precious
metals as Bolivia. "The mines of Potosi alone have furnished the world
over $1,500,000,000 worth of silver since the Spaniards first took
possession of them." [Footnote: "Protestant Missions in South America."]

Bolivia can lay claim to the most wonderful body of water in the
world--Lake Titicaca. This lake, nearly two and a half miles high in
the air, is literally in the clouds. "Its lonely waters have no outlet
to the sea, but are guarded on their southern shores by gigantic ruins
of a prehistoric empire--palaces, temples, and fortresses--silent,
mysterious monuments of a long-lost golden age." Some of the largest
and most remarkable ruins of the world are found on the shores of Lake
Titicaca, and as this was the centre of the great Incan Dynasty, that
remarkable people have also left wonderful remains, to build which
stones thirty-eight feet long, eighteen feet wide, and six feet thick,
were quarried, carried and elevated. The Temple of the Sun. the most
sacred edifice of the Incas, was one of the richest buildings the sun
has ever shone upon, and it was itself a mine of wealth. From this one
temple, Pizarro, the Spanish conqueror, took 24,000 pounds of gold and
82,000 pounds of silver. "Ninety million dollars' worth of precious
metals was torn from Inca temples alone." The old monarch of the
country, Atahuallpa, gave Pizarro twenty-two million dollars in gold to
buy back his country and his liberty from the Spaniards, but their
first act on receiving the vast ransom was to march him after a
crucifix at the head of a procession, and, because he refused to become
a Roman Catholic, put him to death. Perhaps never in the world's
history was there a baser act of perfidy, but this was urged by the
soldier-priest of the conquerors, Father Valverde, who himself signed
the King's death-warrant. This priest was afterwards made Bishop of
Atahuallpa's capital.

Surely no country of the world has had a darker or a sadder history
than this land of the Incas. The Spaniards arrived when the "Children
of the Sun" were at the height of their prosperity. "The affair of
reducing the country was committed to the hands of irresponsible
individuals, soldiers of fortune, desperate adventurers who entered on
conquest as a game which they had to play in the most unscrupulous
manner, with little care but to win it. The lands, and the persons as
well, of the conquered races were parcelled out and appropriated by the
victors as the legitimate spoils of victory. Every day outrages were
perpetrated, at the contemplation of which humanity shudders. They
suffered the provident arrangements of the Incas to fall into decay.
The poor Indian, without food, now wandered half-starved and naked over
the plateau. Even those who aided the Spaniards fared no better, and
many an Inca noble roamed a mendicant over the fields where he once
held rule; and if driven, perchance, by his necessities to purloin
something from the superfluity of his conquerors, he expiated it by a
miserable death."  [Footnote: Prescott's "Conquest of Peru."]

Charles Kingsley says there were "cruelties and miseries unexampled in
the history of Christendom, or perhaps on earth, save in the conquests
of Sennacherib and Zinghis-Khan." Millions perished at the forced labor
of the mines, The Incan Empire had, it is calculated, a population of
twenty millions at the arrival of the Spaniards, In two centuries the
population fell to four millions.

When the groans of these beasts of burden reached the ears of the good
(?) Queen Isabel of Spain, she enacted a law that throughout her new
dominions no Indian, man or woman, should be compelled to carry more
than three hundred pounds' weight at one load! Is it cause for wonder
that the poor, down-trodden natives, seeing the flaunting flag of
Spain, with its stripe of yellow between stripes of red, should regard
it as representing a river of gold between two rivers of blood?

"Not infrequently," said a reliable witness, "I have seen the
Spaniards, long after the Conquest, amuse themselves by hunting down
the natives with blood hounds, for mere sport, or in order to train
their dogs to the game. The most unbounded scope was given to
licentiousness. The young maiden was torn remorselessly from the arms
of her family to gratify the passion of her brutal conqueror. The
sacred houses of the Virgins of the Sun were broken open and violated,
and the cavalier swelled his harem with a troop of Indian girls, making
it seem that the crescent would have been a more fitting emblem for his
banner than the immaculate cross."

With the inexorable conqueror came the more inexorable priest.
"Attendance at Roman Catholic worship was made compulsory. Men and
women with small children were compelled to journey as much as
thirty-six miles to attend mass. Absentees were punished, therefore the
Indian feared to disobey." [Footnote: Neely, "Spanish America."]

As is well known, the ancient inhabitants worshipped the sun and the
moon. The Spanish priest, in order to gain proselytes with greater
facility, did not forbid this worship, but placed the crucifix between
the two. Where the Inca suns and moons were of solid gold and silver,
they were soon replaced by painted wooden ones. The crucifix, with sun
and moon images on each side, is common all over Bolivia to-day.

Now, four hundred years later, see the Indian under priestly rule. The
following is taken from an official report of the Governor of
Chimborazo: "The religious festivals that the Indians celebrate--not of
their own will, but by the inexorable will of the priest--are, through
the manner in which they are kept, worse than those described to us of
the times of Paganism, and of monstrous consequences to morality and
the national welfare ... they may be reckoned as a barbarous mixture of
idolatry and superstition, sustained by infamous avarice. The Indian
who is chosen to make a feast either has to use up in it his little
savings, leaving his family submerged in misery, or he has to rob in
order to invest the products of his crime in paying the fees to the
priest and for church ceremonies. These are simply brutal orgies that
last many days, with a numerous attendance, and in which all manner of
crimes and vices have free license."

"For the idols of the aborigines were substituted the images of the
Virgin Mary and the Roman saints. The Indians gave up their old idols,
but they went on with their image-worship. Image-worship is idolatry,
whether in India, Africa, or anywhere else, and the worship of Roman
images is essentially idolatry as much as the worship of any other kind
of images. Romanism substituted for one set of idols another set. So
the Indians who were idolaters continued to be idolaters, only the new
idols had other names and, possibly, were a little better-looking."
[Footnote: Neely, "South America."]

What has Romanism done for the Indians of Bolivia in its four hundred
years of rule? Compare the people of that peaceful, law-keeping dynasty
which the Spaniards found with the Bolivian Indian of to-day! Now the
traveller can report: "The Indians are killing the whites wherever they
find them, and practising great cruelties, having bored holes in the
heads of their victims and sucked the brains out while they were yet
alive. Sixteen whites are said to have been killed in this way! These
same Indians are those who have been Christianized by the Roman priests
for the past three centuries, but such cruelties as they have been
practising show that as yet not a ray of Christ's love has entered
their darkened minds." How can the priest teach what he is himself
ignorant of?

Where the Indian has been civilized, as well as Romanized, Mr. Milne,
of the American Bible Society, could write:

"Since the Spanish conquest the progress of the Indians has been in the
line of deterioration and moral degradation. They are oppressed by the
Romish clergy, who can never drain contributions enough out of them,
and who make the children render service to pay for masses for deceased
parents and relatives. Tears came to our eyes as Mr. Penzotti and I
watched them practising their heathen rites in the streets of La Paz,
the chief city of Bolivia. They differ from the other Indians in that
they are domesticated, but _they know no more of the Gospel than they
did under the rule of the Incas."_

What is to be the future of these natives? Shall they disappear from
the stage of the world's history like so many other aborigines, victims
of civilization, or will a hand yet be stretched out to help them?
Civilization, after all, is not entirely made up of greed and lust, but
in it there is righteousness and truth. May the day soon dawn when some
of the latter may be extended to them ere they take the long, dark
trail after their fathers, and have hurled the last malediction at
their cursed white oppressors!

  "We suffer yet a little space
   Until we pass away,
  The relics of an ancient race
   That ne'er has had its day."

For four hundred years Bolivia has thus been held in chains by Romish
priestcraft. Since its Incan rulers were massacred, its civilization
has been of the lowest. Buildings, irrigation dams, etc., were suffered
to fall into disrepair, and the country went back to pre-Incan days.

The first Christian missionaries to enter the country were imprisoned
and murdered. Now "the morning light is breaking." A law has been
passed granting liberty of worship.

Bolivia, with its vast natural riches, must come to the forefront, and
already strides are being taken forward. She can export over five
million dollars' worth of rubber in one year, and is now spending more
than fifty million dollars on railways. So Bolivia is a country of the
past and the future.




CHAPTER V.

JOURNEY TO "THE UNEXPLORED LAKE."


Since the days when Pizarro's adventurers discovered the hitherto
undreamed-of splendor of the Inca Dynasty, Bolivia has been a land of
surprises and romantic discovery. Strange to say, even yet much of the
eastern portion of this great republic remains practically unexplored.
The following account of exploration in those regions, left for men of
the twentieth century, may not, I am persuaded, be without interest to
the general reader. Bolivia has for many years been seriously
handicapped through having no adequate water outlet to the sea, and the
immense resources of wealth she undoubtedly possesses have, for this
reason, been suffered to go, in a measure, unworked. Now, however, in
the onward progress of nations, Bolivia has stepped forward. In the
year 1900, the Government of that country despatched an expedition to
locate and explore Lake Gaiba, a large sheet of water said to exist in
the far interior of Bolivia and Brazil, on the line dividing the two
republics. The expedition staff consisted of Captain Bolland, an
Englishman; M. Barbiere, a Frenchman; Dr. Perez, Bolivian; M. Gerard
D'Avezsac, French artist and hunter, and the writer of these pages. The
crew of ten men was made up of Paraguayans and Argentines, white men
and <DW52>, one Bolivian, one Italian, and one Brazilian. Strange to
relate, there was no Scotchman, even the ship's engineer being French.
Perhaps the missing Scotch engineer was on his way to the Pole, in
order to be found sitting there on its discovery by----(?)

The object of this costly journey was to ascend the rivers La Plata,
Paraguay and Alto Paraguay, and see if it were possible to establish a
port and town in Bolivian territory on the shores of the lake. After
some months of untiring energy and perseverance, there was discovered
for Bolivia a fine port, with depth of water for any ordinary river
steamer, which will now be known to the world as _Puerto Quijarro_. A
direct fluvial route, therefore, exists between the Atlantic and this
far inland point.

The expedition left Buenos Ayres, the capital of the Argentine
Republic. Sailing up the western bank of the River of Silver, we
entered the Parana River, and after an uneventful voyage of six days,
passed the mouth of the River of Gold, and turned into the Paraguay.

Three hundred miles up the Higher Parana, a mighty stream flowing from
the northeast, which we here left to our right, are the Falls of
Yguasu. These falls have been seen by few white men. The land on each
side of the river is infested by the Bugres Indians, a tribe of
cannibals, of excessively ferocious nature. The Falls of Big Water must
be the largest in the world--and the writer is well acquainted with
Niagara.

The river, over two and a half miles wide, containing almost as much
water as all the rivers of Europe together, rushes between
perpendicular cliffs. With a current of forty miles an hour, and a
volume of water that cannot be less than a million tons a minute, the
mighty torrent rushes with indescribable fury against a rocky island,
which separates it into two branches, so that the total width is about
two miles and a half. The Brazilian arm of the river forms a tremendous
horseshoe here, and plunges with a deafening roar into the abyss two
hundred and thirteen feet below. The Argentine branch spreads out in a
sort of amphitheatre form, and finishes with one grand leap into the
jagged rocks, more than two hundred and twenty-nine feet below, making
the very earth vibrate, while spray, rising in columns, is visible
several miles distant.

"Below the island the two arms unite and flow on into the Parana River.
From the Brazilian bank the spectator, at a height of two hundred and
eighty feet, gazes out over two and a half miles of some of the wildest
and most fantastic water scenery he can ever hope to see. Waters
stream, seethe, leap, bound, froth and foam, 'throwing the sweat of
their agony high in the air, and, writhing, twisting, screaming and
moaning, bear off to the Parana.' Under the blue vault of the sky, this
sea of foam, of pearls, of iridescent dust, bathes the great background
in a shower of beauty that all the more adds to the riot of tropical
hues already there. When a high wind is blowing, the roar of the
cataract can be heard nearly twenty miles away. A rough estimate of the
horse-power represented by the falls is fourteen million."

Proceeding up the Paraguay River, we arrived at Asuncion, the capital
of Paraguay, and anchored in a beautiful bay of the river, opposite the
city. As many necessary preparations had still to be made, the
expedition was detained in Asuncion for fifteen days, after which we
boarded the S.S. _Leda_, for the second stage of our journey.

Steaming up the Alto Paraguay, we passed the orange groves of that
sunny land on the right bank of the river, and on the left saw the
encampments of the Tobas Indians, The dwellings of these people are
only a few branches of trees stuck in the ground. Further on, we saw
the Chamococos Indians, a fine muscular race of men and women, who
cover their bronze- bodies with the oil of the alligator, and
think a covering half the size of a pocket-handkerchief quite
sufficient to hide their nakedness. As we stayed to take in wood, I
tried to photograph some of these, our brothers and sisters, but the
camera was nothing but an object of dread to them. One old woman, with
her long, black, oily hair streaming in the breeze, almost withered me
with her flashing eyes and barbarous language, until I blushed as does
a schoolboy when caught in the act of stealing apples. Nevertheless, I
got her photo.

The Pilcomayo, which empties its waters into the Paraguay, is one of
the most mysterious of rivers. Rising in Bolivia, its course can be
traced down for some considerable distance, when it loses itself in the
arid wastes, or, as some maintain, flows underground. Its source and
mouth are known, but for many miles of its passage it is invisible.
Numerous attempts to solve its secrets have been made. They have almost
invariably ended disastrously. The Spanish traveller, Ibarete, set out
with high hopes to travel along its banks, but he and seventeen men
perished in the attempt. Two half-famished, prematurely-old, broken men
were all that returned from the unknown wilds. The Pilcomayo, which has
proved itself the river of death to so many brave men, remains to this
day unexplored. The Indians inhabiting these regions are savage in the
extreme, and the French explorer, Creveaux, found them inhuman enough
to leave him and most of his party to die of hunger. The Tobas and the
Angaitaes tribes are personally known to me, and I speak from
experience when I say that more cruel men I have never met. The
Argentine Government, after twenty years of warfare with them, was
compelled, in 1900, to withdraw the troops from their outposts and
leave the savages in undisputed possession. If the following was the
type of civilization offered them, then they are better left to
themselves: "Two hundred Indians who have been made prisoners are
_compelled to be baptized_. The ceremony takes place in the presence of
the Governor and officials of the district, and a great crowd of
spectators. The Indians kneel between two rows of soldiers, an officer
with drawn sword compels each in turn to open his mouth, into which a
second officer throws a handful of salt, amid general laughter at the
wry faces of the Indians. Then a Franciscan padre comes with a pail of
water and besprinkles the prisoners. They are then commanded to rise,
and each receives a piece of paper inscribed with his new name, a
scapulary, and--_a glass of rum_" [Footnote: Report of British and
Foreign Bible Society, 1900.] What countries these for missionary
enterprise!

After sailing for eighteen days up the river, we transhipped into a
smaller steamer going to Bolivia. Sailing up the bay, you pass, on the
south shore, a small Brazilian customs house, which consists of a
square roof of zinc, without walls, supported on four posts, standing
about two meters from the ground. A Brazilian, clothed only in his
black skin, came down the house ladder and stared at us as we passed.
The compliment was returned, although we had become somewhat accustomed
to that style of dress--or undress. A little farther up the bay, a
white stone shone out in the sunlight, marking the Bolivian boundary,
and giving the name of Piedra Blanca to the village. This landmark is
shaded by a giant tamarind tree, and numerous barrel trees, or _palo
boracho_, grow in the vicinity. In my many wanderings in tropical
America, I have seen numerous strange trees, but these are
extraordinarily so. The trunk comes out of the ground with a small
circumference, then gradually widens out to the proportions of an
enormous barrel, and at the top closes up to the two-foot circumference
again. Two branches, like giant arms spread themselves out in a most
weird-looking manner on the top of all. About five leaves grow on each
bough, and, instinctively, you consider them the fingers of the arms.

It was only three leagues to the Bolivian town of Piedra Blanca, but
the "Bahia do Marengo" took three hours to steam the short distance,
for five times we had to stop on the way, owing to the bearings
becoming heated. These the Brazilian engineer cooled with pails of
water.

In the beautiful Bay of Caceres, much of which was grown over with
lotus and Victoria Regia, we finally anchored. This Bolivian village is
about eighteen days' sail up the river from Montevideo on the seacoast.

Chartering the "General Pando," a steamer of 25 h.p. and 70 ft. long,
we there completed our preparations, and finally steamed away up the
Alto Paraguay, proudly flying the Bolivian flag of red, yellow, and
green. As a correct plan of the river had to be drawn, the steamer only
travelled by day, when we were able to admire the grandeur of the
scenery, which daily grew wilder as the mountains vied with each other
in lifting their rugged peaks toward heaven. From time to time we
passed one of the numerous islands the Paraguay is noted for. These are
clothed with such luxuriant vegetation that nothing less than an army
of men with axes could penetrate them. The land is one great, wild,
untidy, luxuriant hot-house, "built by nature for herself." The puma,
jaguar and wildcat are here at home, besides the anaconda and boa
constrictor, which grow to enormous lengths. The Yaci Reta, or Island
of the Moon, is the ideal haunt of the jaguar, and as we passed it a
pair of those royal beasts were playing on the shore like two enormous
cats. As they caught sight of us, one leapt into the mangrove swamp,
out of sight, and the other took a plunge into the river, only to rise
a few yards distant and receive an explosive bullet in his head. The
mangrove tree, with its twisting limbs and bright green foliage, grows
in the warm water and foetid mud of tropical countries. It is a type of
death, for pestilence hangs round it like a cloud. At early morning
this cloud is a very visible one. The peculiarity of the tree is that
its hanging branches themselves take root, and, nourished by such
putrid exhalations, it quickly spreads.

There were also many floating islands of fantastic shape, on which
birds rested in graceful pose. We saw the _garza blanca_, the aigrets
of which are esteemed by royalty and commoner alike, along with other
birds new and strange. To several on board who had looked for years on
nothing but the flat Argentine pampas, this change of scenery was most
exhilarating, and when one morning the sun rose behind the "Golden
Mountains," and illuminated peak after peak, the effect was glorious.
So startlingly grand were some of the colors that our artist more than
once said he dare not paint them, as the world would think that his
coloring was not true to nature.

Many were the strange sights we saw on the shore. Once we were amused
at the ludicrous spectacle of a large bird of the stork family, which
had built its nest in a tree almost overhanging the river. The nest was
a collection of reeds and feathers, having two holes in the bottom,
through which the legs of the bird were hanging. The feet, suspended
quite a yard below the nest, made one wonder how the bird could rise
from its sitting position.

Every sight the traveller sees, however, is not so amusing. As darkness
creeps over earth and sky, and the pale moonbeams shed a fitful light,
it is most pathetic to see on the shore the dead trunk and limbs of a
tree, in the branches of which has been constructed a rude platform, on
which some dark-minded Indian has reverently lifted the dead body of
his comrade. The night wind, stirring the dry bones and whistling
through the empty skull, makes weird music!

The banks of the stream had gradually come nearer and nearer to us, and
the great river, stretching one hundred and fifty miles in width where
it pours its volume of millions of tons of water into the sea at
Montevideo, was here a silver ribbon, not half a mile across.

Far be it from me to convey the idea that life in those latitudes is
Eden. The mosquitos and other insects almost drive one mad. The country
may truly be called a naturalists' paradise, for butterflies, beetles,
and creeping things are multitudinous, but the climate, with its damp,
sickly heat, is wholly unsuited to the Anglo-Saxon. Day after day the
sun in all his remorseless strength blazes upon the earth, is if
desirous of setting the whole world on fire. The thermometer in the
shade registered 110, 112 and 114 degrees Fahrenheit, and on one or two
memorable days 118 degrees. The heat in our little saloon at times rose
as high as 130 degrees, and the perspiration poured down in streams on
our almost naked bodies. We seemed to be running right into the brazen
sun itself.

One morning the man on the look-out descried deer on the starboard bow,
and arms were quickly brought out, ready for use. Our French hunter was
just taking aim when it struck me that the deer moved in a strange way.
I immediately asked him to desist. Those dark forms in the long grass
seemed, to my somewhat trained eyes, naked Indians, and as we drew
nearer to them so it proved, and the man was thankful he had withheld
his fire.

After steaming for some distance up the river several dug-outs, filled
with Guatos Indians, paddled alongside us. An early traveller in those
head-waters wrotes of these: "Some of the smaller tribes were but a
little removed from the wild brutes of their own jungles. The lowest in
the scale, perhaps, were the Guatos, who dwell to the north of the Rio
Apa. This tribe consisted of less than one hundred persons, and they
were as unapproachable as wild beasts. No other person, Indian or
foreigner, could ever come near but they would fly and hide in
impenetrable jungles. They had no written language of their own, and
lived like unreasoning animals, without laws or religion."

The Guato Indian seems now to be a tame and inoffensive creature, but
well able to strike a bargain in the sale of his dug-out canoes,
home-made guitars and other curios. In the wrobbling canoe they are
very dexterous, as also in the use of their long bows and arrows; the
latter have points of sharpened bone. When hungry, they hunt or fish.
When thirsty, they drink from the river; and if they wish clothing,
wild cotton grows in abundance.

These Indians, living, as they do, along the banks of the river and
streams, have recently been frequently visited by the white man on his
passage along those natural highways. It is, therefore superfluous for
me to add that they are now correspondingly demoralized. It is a most
humiliating fact that just in proportion as the paleface advances into
lands hitherto given up to the Indian so those races sink. This
degeneration showed itself strikingly among the Guatos in their
inordinate desire for _cachaca_, or "firewater." Although extremely
cautious and wary in their exchanges to us, refusing to barter a bow
and arrows for a shirt, yet, for a bottle of cachaca, they would gladly
have given even one of their canoes. These _ketchiveyos_, twenty or
twenty-five feet long by about twenty inches wide, they hollow from the
trunk of the cedar, or _lapacho_ tree. This is done with great labor
and skill; yet, as I have said, they were boisterously eager to
exchange this week's work for that which they knew would lead them to
fight and kill one another.

As a mark of special favor, the chief invited me to their little
village, a few miles distant. Stepping into one of their canoes--a
large, very narrow boat, made of one tree-trunk hollowed out by fire--I
was quickly paddled by three naked Indians up a narrow creek, which was
almost covered with lotus. The savages, standing in the canoe, worked
the paddles with a grace and elegance which the civilized man would
fail to acquire, and the narrow craft shot through the water at great
speed. The chief sat in silence at the stern. I occupied a palm-fibre
mat spread for me amidships. The very few words of Portuguese my
companions spoke or understood rendered conversation difficult, so the
stillness was broken only by the gentle splash of the paddles. On each
side the dense forest seemed absolutely impenetrable, but we at last
arrived at an opening. As we drew ashore I noticed that an Indian path
led directly inland.

Leaving our dug-out moored with a fibre rope to a large mangrove tree,
we started to thread our way through the forest, and finally reached a
clearing. Here we came upon a crowd of almost naked and extremely
dejected-looking women. Many of these, catching sight of me, sped into
the jungle like frightened deer. The chief's wife, however, at a word
from him, received me kindly, and after accepting a brass necklace with
evident pleasure, showed herself very affable. Poor lost Guatos! Their
dejected countenances, miserable grass huts, alive with vermin, and
their extreme poverty, were most touching. Inhabiting, as they do, one
of the hottest and dampest places on the earth's surface, where
mosquitos are numberless, the wonder is that they exist at all. Truly,
man is a strange being, who can adapt himself to equatorial heat or
polar frigidity. The Guatos' chief business in life seemed to consist
in sitting on fibre mats spread on the ground, and driving away the
bloodthirsty mosquitos from their bare backs. For this they use a fan
of their own manufacture, made from wild cotton, which there seems to
abound. Writing of mosquitos, let me say these Indian specimens were a
terror to us all. What numbers we killed! I could write this account in
their blood. It was _my_ blood, though--before they got it! Men who
hunt the tiger in cool bravery boiled with indignation before these
awful pests, which stabbed and stung with marvellous persistency, and
disturbed
 the solitude of nature with their incessant humming. I write the
word _incessant_ advisedly, for I learned that there are several kinds
of mosquitos. Some work by day and others by night. Naturalists tell us
that only the female mosquito bites. Did they take a particular liking
to us because we were all males?

Some of the Indians paint their naked bodies in squares, generally with
red and black pigment. Their huts were in some cases large, but very
poorly constructed. When any members of the tribe are taken sick they
are supposed to be "possessed" by a stronger evil power, and the
sickness is "starved out." When the malady flies away the life
generally accompanies it. The dead are buried under the earth inside
the huts, and in some of the dwellings graves are quite numerous. This
custom of interior burial has probably been adopted because the wild
animals of the forest would otherwise eat the corpse. Horrible to
relate, their own half-wild dogs sometimes devour the dead, though an
older member of the tribe is generally left home to mount guard.

Seeing by the numerous gourds scattered around that they were drinking
_chicha_, I solicited some, being anxious to taste the beverage which
had been used so many centuries before by the old Incas. The wife of
the chief immediately tore off a branch of the feather palm growing
beside her, and, certainly within a minute, made a basket, into which
she placed a small gourd. Going to the other side of the clearing, she
commenced, with the agility of a monkey, to ascend a long sapling which
had been laid in a slanting position against a tall palm tree. The
long, graceful leaves of this cabbage palm had been torn open, and the
heart thus left to ferment. From the hollow cabbage the woman filled
the gourd, and lowered it to me by a fibre rope. The liquid I found to
be thick and milky, and the taste not unlike cider.

Prescott tells us that Atahuallpa, the Peruvian monarch, came to see
the conqueror, Pizarro, "quaffing chicha from golden goblets borne by
his attendants." [Footnote: Este Embajador traia servicio de Senor, i
cinco o seis Vasos de Oro fino, con que bebia, i con ellos daba a beber
a los Espanoles de la chicha que traia."--Xerez.] Golden goblets did
not mean much to King Atahuallpa, however, for his palace of five
hundred different apartments is said to have been tiled with beaten
gold.

In these Guato Indians I observed a marked difference to any others I
had visited, in that they permitted the hair to grow on their faces.
The chief was of quite patriarchal aspect, with full beard and mild,
intelligent-looking eyes. The savages inhabiting the Chaco consider
this custom extremely "dirty."

Before leaving these people I procured some of their bows and arrows,
and also several cleverly woven palm mats and cotton fans.

Some liquor our cook gave away had been taken out by the braves to
their women in another encampment. These spirits had so inflamed the
otherwise retiring, modest females that they, with the men, returned to
the steamer, clamoring for more. All the stores, along with some
liquors we carried, were under my care, and I kept them securely locked
up, but in my absence at the Indian camp the store-room had been broken
open, and our men and the Indians--men and women--had drunk long and
deep. A scene like Bedlam, or Dante's "Inferno," was taking place when
I returned. Willing as they were to listen to my counsel and admit that
I was certainly a great white teacher, with superior wisdom, on this
love for liquor and its debasing consequences they would hear no words.
The women and girls, like the men, would clamor for the raw alcohol,
and gulp it down in long draughts. When ardent spirits are more sought
after by women and girls than are beads and looking-glasses it surely
shows a terribly depraved taste. Even the chattering monkeys in the
trees overhead would spurn the poison and eagerly clutch the bright
trinket. Perhaps the looking-glasses I gave the poor females would,
after the orgies were over, serve to show them that their beauty was
not increased by this beastly carousal, and thus be a means of
blessing. It may be asked, Can the savage be possessed of pride and of
self-esteem? I unhesitatingly answer yes, as I have had abundant
opportunity of seeing. They will strut with peacock pride when wearing
a specially gaudy- headdress, although that may be their only
article of attire.

Having on board far more salt than we ourselves needed, I was enabled
to generously distribute much of that invaluable commodity among them.
That also, working in a different way, might be a means of restoring
them to a normal soundness of mind after we left.

Poor lost creatures! For this draught of the white man's poison, far
more terrible to them than the deadly nightshade of their forests, more
dangerous than the venom of the loathsome serpent gliding across their
path, they are willing to sell body or soul. Soul, did I say? They have
never heard of that. To them, so far as I could ascertain, a future
life is unknown. The explorer has penetrated some little way into their
dark forests in search of rubber, or anything else which it would pay
to exploit, but the missionary of the Cross has never sought to
illumine their darker minds. They live their little day and go out into
the unknown unconscious of the fact that One called Jesus, who was the
Incarnate God, died to redeem them. As a traveller, I have often
wondered why men should be willing to pay me hundreds of dollars to
explore those regions for ultimate worldly gain, and none should ever
offer to employ me in proclaiming the greatest wonder of all the
ages--the story of Calvary--for eternal gain. After all, are the
Indians more blind to the future than we are? Yet, strange to say, we
profess to believe in the teachings of that One who inculcated the
practice of laying up treasure in heaven, while they have not even
heard His name. For love of gain men have been willing to accompany me
through the most deadly fever-breeding morass, or to brave the poisoned
arrows of the lynx-eyed Indian, but few have ever offered to go and
tell of Him whom they profess to serve.

The suffocating atmosphere quite precluded the idea of writing, for a
pen, dipped in ink, would dry before reaching the paper, and the latter
be saturated with perspiration in a few seconds; so these observations
were penned later. So far as I could ascertain, the Romish Church has
never touched the Guatos, and, notwithstanding all I have said about
them, I unhesitatingly affirm that it is better so. Geo. R. Witte,
missionary to Brazil, says: "With one exception, all the priests with
whom I came in contact (when on a journey through Northern Brazil) were
immoral, drunken, and ignorant. The tribes who have come under priestly
care are decidedly inferior in morals, industry, and order to the
tribes who refuse to have anything to do with the whites. The Charentes
and Apinages have been, for years, under the care of Catholic
friars--this is the way I found them: both men and women walk about
naked."

"We heard not one contradiction of the general testimony that the
people who were not under the influence of the Roman Catholic Church as
it is in S. America were better morally than those who were."
[Footnote: Robert E. Speer, "Missions in South America."]

In Christendom organs peal out the anthems of Divine love, and
well-dressed worshippers chant in harmonious unison, "Lord, incline our
hearts to keep Thy law." That law says: "Thou shalt love thy neighbor
as thyself." To the question: "Who is my neighbor?" the Divine voice
answers: "A certain man." May he not be one of these neglected Indians?




CHAPTER VI.

ARRIVAL AT THE LAKE.

  "It sleeps among a hundred hills
   Where no man ever trod,
  And only Nature's music fills
   The silences of God."


After going about two thousand three hundred miles up this serpentine
river, we discovered the entrance to the lake. Many had been the
conjectures and counsels of would-be advisers when we started. Some
said that there was no entrance to the lake from the river; others,
that there was not sufficient depth of water for the steamer to pass
through. On our port bow rose frowning rocks of forbidding aspect.
Drawing nearer, we noticed, with mingled feelings of curiosity and
wonder, that the face of these rocks was rudely carved by unmistakably
Indian art. There were portrayed a rising sun, tigers' feet, birds'
feet, etc. Why were they thus carved? Are those rocks the everlasting
recorders of some old history--some deed of Indian daring in days of
old? What these hieroglyphics signify we may never know; the workman is
gone, and his stone hammer is buried with him. To twentieth century
civilization his carving tells nothing. No Indians inhabit the shores
of the lake now, perhaps because of this "writing on the wall."

With the leadsman in his place we slowly and cautiously entered the
unexplored lake, and thus for the first time in the world's history its
waters were ploughed by a steamer's keel.

Soon after our arrival the different guards were told off for the
silent watches. Night shut in upon the lake, and all nature slept. The
only lights on shore were those of the fire-flies as they danced
through the myrtle boughs. The stars in the heavens twinkled above us.
Now and again an alligator thrust his huge, ugly nose out of the water
and yawned, thus disturbing for the moment its placid surface, which
the pale moon illuminated with an ethereal light; otherwise stillness
reigned, or, rather, a calm mysterious peace which was deep and
profound. Somehow, the feeling crept upon us that we had become
detached from the world, though yet we lived. Afterwards, when the
tigers [Footnote: Jaguars are invariably called tigers in South
America.] on shore had scented our presence, sleep was often broken by
angry roars coming from the beach, near which we lay at anchor; but
before dawn our noisy visitors always departed, leaving only their
footprints. Early next morning, while the green moon was still shining
(the color of this heavenly orb perplexed us, it was a pure bottle
green), each one arose to his work. This was no pleasure excursion, and
duties, many and arduous, lay before the explorers. The hunter sallied
forth with his gun, and returned laden with pheasant and mountain hen,
and over his shoulder a fine duck, which, unfortunately, however, had
already begun to smell--the heat was so intense. In his wanderings he
had come upon a huge tapir, half eaten by a tiger, and saw footprints
of that lord of the forest in all directions.

Let me here say, that to our hunter we were indebted for many a good
dish, and when not after game he lured from the depths of the lake many
a fine perch or turbot. Fishing is an art in which I am not very
skilled, but one evening I borrowed his line. After a few moments'
waiting I had a "bite," and commenced to haul in my catch, which
struggled, kicked, and pulled until I shouted for help. My fish was one
of our Paraguayan sailors, who for sport had slipped down into the
water on the other side of the steamer, and, diving to my cord, had
grasped it with both hands. Not every fisher catches a man!

Lake Gaiba is a stretch of water ten miles long, with a narrow mouth
opening into the River Paraguay. The lake is surrounded by mountains,
clad in luxuriant verdure on the Bolivian side, and standing out in
bare, rugged lines on the Brazilian side. The boundary of the two
countries cuts the water into two unequal halves. The most prominent of
the mountains are now marked upon the exhaustive chart drawn out. Their
christening has been a tardy one, for who can tell what ages have
passed since they first came into being? Looking at Mount Ray, the
highest of these peaks, at sunset, the eye is startled by the strange
hues and rich tints there reflected. Frequently we asked ourselves: "Is
that the sun's radiance, or are those rocks the fabled 'Cliffs of Opal'
men have searched for in vain?" We often sat in a wonder of delight
gazing at the scene, until the sun sank out of sight, taking the "opal
cliffs" with it, and leaving us only with the dream.

On the shores of the lake the beach is covered with golden sand and
studded with innumerable little stones, clear as crystal, which
scintillate with all the colors of the rainbow. Among these pebbles I
found several arrowheads of jasper. In other parts the primeval forest
creeps down to the very margin, and the tree-roots bathe in the warm
waters. Looking across the quivering heat-haze, the eye rests upon
palms of many varieties, and giant trees covered with orchids and
parasites, the sight of which would completely intoxicate the
horticulturist. Butterflies, gorgeous in all the colors of the rainbow,
flit from flower to flower; and monkeys, with curiously human faces,
stare at the stranger from the tree-tops. White cotton trees,
tamarinds, and strangely shaped fruits grow everywhere, and round about
all are entwined festoons of trailing creepers, or the loveliest of
_scarlet_ mistletoe, in which humming-birds build their nests. Blue
macaws, parrots, and a thousand other birds fly to and fro, and the
black fire-bird darts across the sky, making lightning with every
flutter of his wings, which, underneath, are painted a bright, vivid
red. Serpents of all colors and sizes creep silently in the
undergrowth, or hang from the branches of the trees, their emerald eyes
ever on the alert; and the broad-winged eagle soars above all,
conscious of his majesty.

Here and there the coast is broken by silent streams flowing into the
lake from the unexplored regions beyond. These _riachos_ are covered
with lotus leaves and flowers, and also the Victoria Regia in all its
gorgeous beauty. Papyrusa, reeds and aquatic plants of all descriptions
grow on the banks of the streams, making a home for the white stork or
whiter _garza_. Looking into the clear warm waters you see little
golden and red fishes, and on the bed of the stream shells of pearl.

On the south side of the Gaiba, at the foot of the mountains, the beach
<DW72>s gently down, and is covered with golden sand, in which crystals
sparkle as though set in fine gold by some cunning workman. A Workman,
yes--but not of earth, for nature is here untouched, unspoilt as yet by
man, and the traveller can look right away from it to its Creator.

During our stay in these regions the courses of several of the larger
streams were traced for some distance. On the Brazilian side there was
a river up which we steamed. Not being acquainted with the channel, we
had the misfortune to stick for two days on a tosca reef, which
extended a distance of sixty-five feet. [Footnote: The finding of tosca
at this point confirms the extent inland of the ancient Pampean
sea.--Colonel Church, in "Proceedings of the Royal Geographical
Society," January, 1902.] During this time, a curious phenomenon
presented itself to our notice. In one day we clearly saw the river
flow for six hours to the north-west, and for another six hours to the
south-east. This, of course, proved to us that the river's course
depends on the wind.

On the bank, right in front of where we lay, was a gnarled old tree,
which seemed to be the home, or parliament house, of all the paroquets
in the neighborhood. Scores of them kept up an incessant chatter the
whole time. In the tree were two or three hanging nests, looking like
large sacks suspended from the boughs. Ten or twenty birds lay in the
same nest, and you might find in them, at the one time, eggs just laid,
birds recently hatched, and others ready to fly. Sitting and rearing go
on concurrently. I procured a tame pair of this lovely breed of
paroquets from the Guatos. Their prevailing color was emerald green,
while the wings and tail were made up of tints of orange, scarlet, and
blue, and around the back of the bird was a golden sheen rarely found
even in equatorial specimens. Whether the bird is known to
ornithologists or not I cannot tell. One night our camp was pitched
near an anthill, inhabited by innumerable millions of those insects.
None of us slept well, for, although our hammocks were slung, as we
thought, away from them, they troubled us much. What was my horror next
morning when the sun, instead of lighting up the rainbow tints of my
birds, showed only a black moving mass of ants! My parrots had
literally been eaten alive by them!

But I am wandering on and the ship is still aground on the reef! After
much hauling and pulling and breaking of cables, she at last was got
off into deep water. We had not proceeded far, however, when another
shock made the vessel quiver. Were we aground again? No, the steamer
had simply pushed a lazy alligator out of its way, and he resented the
insult by a diabolical scowl at us.

Continuing on our way, we entered another body of hitherto unexplored
water, a fairy spot, covered with floating islands of lotus, anchored
with aquatic cables and surrounded by palm groves. On the shallow,
pebbly shore might be seen, here and there, scarlet flamingoes. These
beautiful birds stood on one leg, knee deep, dreaming of their
enchanted home. Truly it is a perfect paradise, but it is almost as
inaccessible as the Paradise which we all seek. What long-lost
civilizations have ruled these now deserted solitudes? Penetrate into
the dark, dank forest, as I have done, and ask the question. The only
answer is the howling of the monkeys and the screaming of the
cockatoos. You may start when you distinctly hear a bell tolling, but
it is no call to worship in some stately old Inca temple with its
golden sun and silver moon as deities. It is the wonderful bell-bird,
which can make itself heard three miles away, but it is found only
where man is not. Ruins of the old Incan and older pre-Incan
civilizations are come across, covered now with dense jungle, but their
builders have disappeared. To have left behind them until this day
ruins which rank with the pyramids for extent, and Karnak for grandeur,
proves their intelligence.

The peculiar rasping noise you now hear in the undergrowth has nothing
to do with busy civilization--'tis only the rattlesnake drawing his
slimy length among the dead leaves or tangled reeds. No, all that is
past, and this is an old new world indeed, and romance must not rob you
of self possession, for the rattle means that in the encounter either
he dies--or you.

Meanwhile the work on shore progressed. Paths were cut in different
directions and the wonders of nature laid bare. The ring of the axe and
the sound of falling trees marked the commencement of civilization in
those far-off regions. Ever and anon a loud report rang out from the
woods, for it might almost be said that the men worked with the axe in
one hand and a rifle in the other. Once they started a giant tapir
taking his afternoon snooze. The beast lazily got up and made off, but
not before he had turned his piercing eyes on the intruders, as though
wondering what new animals they were. Surely this was his first sight
of the "lords of creation," and probably his last, for a bullet quickly
whizzed after him. Another day the men shot a puma searching for its
prey, and numerous were the birds, beasts and reptiles that fell before
our arms. The very venomous _jaracucu_, a snake eight to twelve feet
long, having a double row of teeth in each jaw, is quite common here.

The forests are full of birds and beasts in infinite variety, as also
of those creatures which seem neither bird nor beast. There are large
black howling monkeys, and little black-faced ones with prehensile
tails, by means of which they swing in mid-air or jump from tree to
tree in sheer lightness of heart. There is also the sloth, which, as
its name implies, is painfully deliberate in its motions. Were I a
Scotchman I should say that "I dinna think that in a' nature there is a
mair curiouser cratur." Sidney Smith's summary of this strange animal
is that it moves suspended, rests suspended, sleeps suspended, and
passes its whole life in suspense. This latter state may also aptly
describe the condition of the traveller in those regions; for man,
brave though he may be, does not relish a _vis-a-vis_ with the enormous
anaconda, also to be seen there at most inconvenient times. I was able
to procure the skins of two of these giant serpents.

The leader of the "forest gang," a Paraguayan, wore round his neck a
cotton scapular bought from the priest before he started on the
expedition. This was supposed to save him from all dangers, seen and
unseen. Poor man, he was a good Roman Catholic, and often counted his
beads, but he was an inveterate liar and thief.

Taking into consideration the wild country, and the adventurous mission
which had brought us together, our men were not at all a bad class. One
of them, however, a black Brazilian, used to boast at times that _he
had killed his father while he slept._ In the quiet of the evening hour
he would relate the story with unnatural gusto.

We generally slept on the deck of the steamer, each under a thin
netting, while the millions of mosquitos buzzed outside--and inside
when they could steal a march. Mosquitos? Why _"mosquitos a la Paris"_
was one of the items on our menu one day. The course was not altogether
an imaginary one either. Having the good fortune to possess candles, I
used sometimes to read under my gauzy canopy. This would soon become so
black with insects of all descriptions as to shut out from my sight the
outside world.

After carefully surveying the Bolivian shore, we fixed upon a site for
the future port and town. [Footnote: The latitude of Port Quijarro is
17 deg. 47' 35", and the longitude, west of Greenwich, 57 deg. 44' 38". Height
above the sea, 558 feet.] Planting a hugh palm in the ground, with a
long bamboo nailed to the crown, we then solemnly unfurled the Bolivian
flag. This had been made expressly for the expedition by the hands of
Senora Quijarro, wife of the Bolivian minister residing in Buenos
Ayres. As the sun for the first time shone upon the brilliant colors of
the flag, nature's stillness was broken by a good old English hurrah,
while the hunter and several others discharged their arms in the air,
until the parrots and monkeys in the neighborhood must have wondered
(or is wondering only reserved for civilized man?) what new thing had
come to pass. There we, a small company of men in nature's solitudes,
each signed his name to the _Act of Foundation_ of a town, which in all
probability will mean a new era for Bolivia. We fully demonstrated the
fact that Puerto Quijarro will be an ideal port, through which the
whole commerce of south-eastern Bolivia can to advantage pass.

Next day the Secretary drew out four copies of this _Act_. One was for
His Excellency General Pando, President of the Bolivian Republic;
another for the Mayor of Holy Cross, the nearest Bolivian town, 350
miles distant; a third for Senor Quijarro; while the fourth was
enclosed in a stone bottle and buried at the foot of the flagstaff,
there to await the erection of the first building. Thus a commencement
has been made; the lake and shores are now explored. The work has been
thoroughly done, and the sweat of the brow was not stinted, for the
birds of the air hovered around the theodolite, even on the top of the
highest adjacent mountain. [Footnote: The opening of the country must,
from its geographical situation, be productive of political
consequences of the first magnitude to South America.--Report of the
Royal Geographical Society, January, 1902.]

At last, this work over and an exhaustive chart of the lake drawn up,
tools and tents collected, specimens of soil, stones, iron, etc.,
packed and labelled, we prepared for departure.

The weather had been exceptionally warm and we had all suffered much
from the sun's vertical rays, but towards the end of our stay the heat
was sweltering--killing! The sun was not confined to one spot in the
heavens, as in more temperate climes; here he filled all the sky, and
he scorched us pitilessly! Only at early morning, when the eastern sky
blushed with warm gold and rose tints, or at even, when the great
liquid ball of fire dropped behind the distant violet- hills,
could you locate him. Does the Indian worship this awful majesty out of
fear, as the Chinaman worships the devil?

Next morning dawned still and portentous. Not a zephyr breeze stirred
the leaves of the trees. The sweltering heat turned to a suffocating
one. As the morning dragged on we found it more and more difficult to
breathe; there seemed to be nothing to inflate our lungs. By afternoon
we stared helplessly at each other and gasped as we lay simmering on
the deck. Were we to be asphyxiated there after all? I had known as
many as two hundred a day to die in one South American city from this
cause. Surely mortal men never went through such awful, airless heat as
this and lived. We had been permitted to discover the lake, and if the
world heard of our death, would that flippant remark be used again, as
with previous explorers, "To make omelettes eggs must be broken"?

However, we were not to _melt_. Towards evening the barometer, which
had been falling all day, went lower and lower. All creation was still.
Not a sound broke the awful quiet; only in our ears there seemed to be
an unnatural singing which was painful, and we closed our eyes in
weariness, for the sun seemed to have blistered the very eyeballs. When
we mustered up sufficient energy to turn our aching eyes to the
heavens, we saw black storm-clouds piling themselves one above another,
and hope, which "springs eternal in the human breast," saw in them our
hope, our salvation.

The fall of the barometer, and the howling of the monkeys on shore
also, warned us of the approaching tempest, so we prepared for
emergencies by securing the vessel fore and aft under the lee of a
rugged _sierra_ before the storm broke--and break it did in all its
might.

Suddenly the wind swept down upon us with irresistible fury, and we
breathed--we lived again. So terrific was the sweep that giant trees,
which had braved a century's storms, fell to the earth with a crash.
The hurricane was truly fearful. Soon the waters of the lake were
lashed into foam. Great drops of rain fell in blinding torrents, and
every fresh roll of thunder seemed to make the mountains tremble, while
the lightning cleft asunder giant trees at one mighty stroke.


[Illustration: VICTORIA REGIA, THE WORLD'S LARGEST FLOWER]


In the old legends of the Inca, read on the "Quipus," we find that
Pachacamac and Viracocha, the highest gods, placed in the heavens
"Nusta," a royal princess, armed with a pitcher of water, which she was
to pour over the earth whenever it was needed. When the rain was
accompanied by thunder, lightning, and wind, the Indians believed that
the maiden's royal brother was teasing her, and trying to wrest the
pitcher from her hand. Nusta must indeed have been fearfully teased
that night, for the lightning of her eyes shot athwart the heavens and
the sky was rent in flame.

Often in those latitudes no rain falls for long months, but when once
the clouds open the earth is deluged! Weeks pass, and the zephyr
breezes scarcely move the leaves of the trees, but in those days of
calm the wind stores up his forces for a mighty storm. On this dark,
fearful night he blew his fiercest blasts. The wild beast was
affrighted from his lair and rushed down with a moan, or the mountain
eagle screamed out a wail, indistinctly heard through the moaning
sounds. During the whole night, which was black as wickedness, the wind
howled in mournful cadence, or went sobbing along the sand. As the
hours wore on we seemed to hear, in every shriek of the blast, the
strange tongue of some long-departed Indian brave, wailing for his
happy hunting-grounds, now invaded by the paleface. Coats and rugs,
that had not for many months been unpacked, were brought out, only in
some cases to be blown from us, for the wind seemed to try his hardest
to impede our departure. The rain soaked us through and through. Mists
rose from the earth, and mists came down from above. Next morning the
whole face of nature was changed.

After the violence of the tempest abated we cast off the ropes and
turned the prow of our little vessel civilizationward. When we entered
the lake the great golden sun gave us a warm welcome, now, at our
farewell, he refused to shine. The rainy season had commenced, but,
fortunately for us, after the work of exploration was done. This
weather continued--day after day clouds and rain. Down the rugged,
time-worn face of the mountains foaming streams rushed and poured, and
this was our last view--a good-bye of copious tears! Thus we saw the
lake in sunshine and storm, in light and darkness. It had been our aim
and ambition to reach it, and we rejoiced in its discovery. Remembering
that "we were the first who ever burst into that silent sea," we seemed
to form part of it, and its varying moods only endeared it to us the
more. In mining parlance, we had staked out our claims there, for--

  "O'er no sweeter lake shall morning break,
   Or noon cloud sail;
  No fairer face than this shall take
   The sunset's golden veil."




CHAPTER VII.

_PIEDRA BLANCA_.


In due time we again reached Piedra Blanca, and, notwithstanding our
ragged, thorn-torn garments, felt we were once more joined on to the
world.

The bubonic plague had broken out farther down the country, steamboats
were at a standstill, so we had to wait a passage down the river.
Piedra Blanca is an interesting little spot. One evening a tired mule
brought in the postman from the next town, Holy Joseph. He had been
eight days on the journey. Another evening a string of dusty mules
arrived, bringing loads of rubber and cocoa. They had been five months
on the way.

When the Chiquitana women go down to the bay for water, with their
pitchers poised on their heads, the sight is very picturesque.
Sometimes a little boy will step into one of the giant, traylike leaves
of the Victoria Regia, which, thus transformed into a fairy boat, he
will paddle about the quiet bay.

The village is built on the edge of the virgin forest, where the red
man, with his stone hatchet, wanders in wild freedom. It contains,
perhaps, a hundred inhabitants, chiefly civilized Chiquitanos Indians.
There is here a customs house, and a regular trade in rubber, which is
brought in from the interior on mule-back, a journey which often takes
from three to four months.

One evening during our stay two men were forcibly brought into the
village, having been caught in the act of killing a cow which they had
stolen. These men were immediately thrown into the prison, a small,
dark, palm-built hut. Next morning, ere the sun arose, their feet were
thrust into the stocks, and a man armed with a long hide whip thrashed
them until the blood flowed in streamlets down their bare backs! What
struck us as being delicately thoughtful was that while the whipping
proceeded another official tried his best to drown their piercing
shrieks by blowing an old trumpet at its highest pitch!

The women, although boasting only one loose white garment, walk with
the air and grace of queens, or as though pure Inca blood ran in their
veins. Their only adornment is a necklace of red corals and a few
inches of red or blue ribbon entwined in their long raven-black hair,
which hangs down to the waist in two plaits. Their houses are
palm-walled, with a roof of palm-leaves, through which the rain pours
and the sun shines. Their chairs are logs of wood, and their beds are
string hammocks. Their wants are few, as there are no electric-lighted
store windows to tempt them. Let us leave them in their primitive
simplicity. Their little, delicately-shaped feet are prettier without
shoes and stockings, and their plaited hair without Parisian hats and
European tinsel. They neither read nor write, and therefore cannot
discuss politics. Women's rights they have never heard of. Their
bright-eyed, naked little children play in the mud or dust round the
house, and the sun turns their already bronze- bodies into a
darker tint; but the Chiquitana woman has never seen a white baby, and
knows nothing of its beauty, so is more than satisfied with her own.
The Indian child does not suffer from teething, for all have a small
wooden image tied round the neck, and the little one, because of this,
is supposed to be saved from all baby ailments! Their husbands and sons
leave them for months while they go into the interior for rubber or
cocoa, and when one comes back, riding on his bullock or mule, he is
affectionately but silently received. The Chiquitano seldom speaks, and
in this respect he is utterly unlike the Brazilian. The women differ
from our mothers and sisters and wives, for they (the Chiquitanas) have
nothing to say. After all, ours are best, and a headache is often
preferable to companioning with the dumb. I unhesitatingly say, give me
the music, even if I have to suffer the consequences.

The waiting-time was employed by our hunter in his favorite sport. One
day he shot a huge alligator which was disporting itself in the water
some five hundred yards from the shore. Taking a strong rope, we went
out in an Indian dug-out to tow it to land. As my friend was the more
dexterous in the use of the paddle, he managed the canoe, and I, with
much difficulty, fixed the rope by a noose to the monster's tail. When
the towing, however, commenced, the beast seemed to regain his life. He
dived and struggled for freedom until the water was lashed into foam.
He thrust his mighty head out of the water and opened his jaws as
though warning us he could crush the frail dug-out with one snap. Being
anxious to obtain his hide, and momentarily expecting his death, for he
was mortally wounded, I held on to the rope with grim persistency. He
dived under the boat and lifted it high, but as his ugly nose came out
on the other side the canoe regained its position in the water. He then
commenced to tow us, but, refusing to obey the helm, took us to all
points of the compass. After an exciting cruise the alligator gave a
deep dive and the rope broke, giving him his liberty again. On leaving
us he gave what Waterton describes as "a long-suppressed, shuddering
sigh, so loud and so peculiar that it can be heard a mile." The bullet
had entered the alligator's head, but next morning we saw he was still
alive and able to "paddle his own canoe." The reader may be surprised
to learn that these repulsive reptiles lay an egg with a pure white
shell, fair to look upon, and that the egg is no larger than a hen's.

One day I was called to see a dead man for whom a kind of wake was
being held. He was lying in state in a grass-built hovel, and raised up
from the mud floor on two packing-cases of suspiciously British origin.
His hard Indian face was softened in death, but the observant eye could
trace a stoical resignation in the features. Several men and women were
sitting around the corpse counting their beads and drinking native
spirits, with a dim, hazy belief that that was the right thing to do.
They had given up their own heathen customs, and, being civilized,
must, of course, be Roman Catholics. They were "reduced," as Holy
Mother Church calls it, long ago, and, of course, believe that
civilization and Roman Catholicism are synonymous terms. Poor souls!
How they stared and wondered when they that morning heard for the first
time the story of Jesus, who tasted death for us that we might live. To
those in the home lands this is an old story, but do they who preach it
or listen to it realize that to millions it is still the newest thing
under the sun?

Next day the man was quietly carried away to the little forest clearing
reserved for the departed, where a few wooden crosses lift their heads
among the tangled growth. Some of these crosses have four rudely carved
letters on them, which you decipher as I. N. R. I. The Indian cannot
tell you their meaning, but he knows they have something to do with his
new religion.

As far as I could ascertain, the departed had no relatives. One after
another had been taken from him, and now he had gone, for "when he is
forsaken, withered and shaken, what can an old man do but die?"--it is
the end of all flesh. Poor man! Had he been able to retain even a spark
of life until Holy Week, he might then have been saved from purgatory.
Rome teaches that on two days in the year--Holy Thursday and Corpus
Christi--the gates of heaven are unguarded, because, they say, _God is
dead_. All people who die on those days go straight to heaven, however
bad they may have been! At no other time is that gate open, and every
soul must pass through the torments of purgatory.

A missionary in Oruru wrote: "The Thursday and Friday of so-called Holy
Week, when Christ's image lay in a coffin and was carried through the
streets, _God being dead_, was the time for robberies, and some one
came to steal from us, but only got about fifty dollars' worth of
building material. Holy Week terminates with the 'Saturday of Glory,'
when spirits are drunk till there is not a dram left in the
drink-shops, which frequently bear such names as 'The Saviour of the
World,' 'The Grace of God,' 'The Fountain of Our Lady,' etc. The poor
deluded Romanists have a holiday on that day over the tragic end of
Judas. A life-size representation of the betrayer is suspended high in
the air in front of the cafes. At ten a.m. the church bells begin to
ring, and this is the signal for lighting the fuse. Then, with a flash
and a bang, every vestige of the effigy has disappeared! At night, if
the town is large enough to afford a theatre, the crowds wend their way
thither. This place of very questionable amusement will often bear the
high-sounding name, _Theatre of the Holy Ghost!_"

There is no church or priest in the village of Piedra Blanca. Down on
the beach there is a church bell, which the visitor concludes is a
start in that direction, but he is told that it is destined for the
town of Santa Cruz de la Sierra, three hundred miles inland. The bell
was a present to the church by some pious devotee, but the money
donated did not provide for its removal inland. This cost the priests
refuse to pay, and the Chiquitanos equally refuse to transport it free.
There is no resident priest to make them, so there it stays. In the
meantime the bell is slung up on three poles. It was solemnly beaten
with a stick on Christmas Eve to commemorate the time when the "Mother
of Heaven" gave birth to her child Jesus. In one of the principal
houses of the village the scene was most vividly reproduced. A small
arbor was screened off by palm leaves, in which were hung little
 candles. Angels of paper were suspended from the roof, that
they might appear to be bending over the Virgin, which was a
highly- fashion-plate cut from a Parisian journal that somehow
had found its way there. The child Jesus appeared to be a Mellin's
Food-fed infant. Round this fairy scene the youth and beauty of the
place danced and drank liberal potations of chicha, the Bolivian
spirits, until far on into morning, when all retired to their hammocks
to dream of their goddess and her lovely babe.

After this paper Virgin the next most prominent object of worship I saw
in Piedra Blanca was a saint with a dress of vegetable fibre, long hair
that had once adorned a horse's tail, and eyes of pieces of clamshell.

Poor, dark Bolivia! It would be almost an impossible thing to
exaggerate the low state of religion there. A communication from Sucre
reads: "The owners of images of Jesus as a child have been getting
masses said for their figures. A band of music is employed, and from
the church to the house a procession is formed. A scene of intoxication
follows, which only ends when a good number lie drunk before the
image--the greater the number the greater the honor to the image?" The
peddler of chicha carries around a large stone jar, about a yard in
depth. The payment for every drink sold is dropped into the jar of
liquor, so the last customers get the most "tasty" decoction.

Naturally the masses like a religion of license, and are as eager as
the priests to uphold it. Read a tale of the persecution of a
nineteenth century missionary there. Mr. Payne in graphic language
tells the story:

"Excommunication was issued. To attend a meeting was special sin, and
only pardoned by going on the knees to the bishop. Sermons against us
were preached in all the churches. I was accused before the Criminal
Court. It was said I carried with me the 'special presence' of the
devil, and had blasphemed the Blessed Virgin, and everyone passing
should say: 'Maria, Joseph.' One day a crowd collected, and sacristans
mixed with the multitude, urging them on to 'vengeance on the
Protestants.' About two p.m. we heard the roar of furious thousands,
and like a river let loose they rushed down on our house. Paving-stones
were quickly torn up, and before the police arrived windows and doors
were smashed, and about a thousand voices were crying for blood. We
cried to the Lord, not expecting to live much longer. The Chief of
Police and his men were swept away before the mob, and now the door
burst in before the huge stones and force used. There were two parties,
one for murder and one for robbery. I was beaten and dragged about,
while the cry went up, 'Death to the Protestant!' The fire was blazing
outside, as they had lots of kerosene, and with all the forms, chairs,
texts, clothes and books the street was a veritable bonfire. Everything
they could lay hands on was taken. At this moment the cry arose that
the soldiers were coming, and a cavalry regiment charged down the
street, carrying fear into the hearts of the people. A second charge
cleared the street, and several soldiers rode into the _patio_ slashing
with their swords."

In this riot the missionary had goods to the value of one thousand
dollars burnt, and was himself hauled before the magistrates and, after
a lengthy trial, condemned to _die_ for heresy!

Baronius, a Roman Catholic writer, says: "The ministry of Peter is
twofold--to feed and to kill; for the Lord said, 'Feed My sheep,' and
he also heard a voice from heaven saying, 'Kill and eat.'" Bellarmine
argues for the necessity of _burning_ heretics. He says: "Experience
teaches that there is no other remedy, for the Church has proceeded by
slow steps, and tried all remedies. First, she only excommunicated.
Then she added a fine of money, and afterwards exile. Lastly she was
compelled to come to the punishment of death. If you threaten a fine of
money, they neither fear God nor regard men, knowing that fools will
not be wanting to believe in them, and by whom they may be sustained.
If you shut them in prison, or send them into exile, they corrupt those
near to them with their words, and those at a distance with their
books. Therefore, the only remedy is to send them betimes into their
own place."

As this mediaeval sentence against Mr. Payne could hardly be carried
out in the nineteenth century, he was liberated, but had to leave the
country. He settled in another part of the Republic. In a letter from
him now before me as I write he says: "The priests are circulating all
manner of lies, telling the people that we keep images of the Virgin in
order to scourge them every night. At Colquechaca we were threatened
with burning, as it was rumored that our object was to do away with the
Roman Catholic religion, which would mean a falling off in the
opportunities for drunkenness." So we see he is still persecuted.

The Rev. A. G. Baker, of the Canadian Baptist Mission, wrote: "The
Bishop of La Paz has sent a letter to the Minister of Public Worship of
which the following is the substance: 'It is necessary for me to call
attention to the Protestant meetings being held in this city, which
cause scandal and alarm throughout the whole district, and which are
contrary to the law of Bolivia. Moreover, it is indispensable that we
prevent the sad results which must follow such teachings, so contrary
to the true religion. On the other hand, if this is not stopped, _we
shall see a repetition of the scenes that recently took place in
Cochabamba_.'" [Footnote: Referring to the sacking and burning of Mr.
Payne's possessions previously referred to.]

Bolivia was one of the last of the Republics to hold out against
"liberty of worship," but in 1907 this was at last declared. Great
efforts were made that this law should not be passed.

In my lectures on this continent I have invariably stated that in South
America the priest is the real ruler of the country. I append a recent
despatch from Washington, which is an account of a massacre of
revolutionary soldiers, under most revolting circumstances, committed
at the instigation of the ecclesiastical authorities: "The Department
of State has been informed by the United States Minister at La Paz,
Bolivia, that Col. Pando sent 120 men to Ayopaya. On arriving at the
town of Mohoza, the commander demanded a loan of two hundred dollars
from the priest of the town, and one hundred dollars from the mayor.
These demands being refused, the priest and the mayor were imprisoned.
Meanwhile, however, the priest had despatched couriers to the Indian
village, asking that the natives attack Pando's men. A large crowd of
Indians came, and, in spite of all measures taken to pacify them, the
arms of the soldiers were taken away, the men subjected to revolting
treatment, and finally locked inside the church for the night. In the
morning the priest, after celebrating the so-called 'mass of agony,'
allowed the Indians to take out the unfortunate victims, two by two,
and 103 were deliberately murdered, each pair by different tortures.
Seventeen escaped death by having departed the day previous on another
mission."

After Gen. Pando was elected President of the Republic of Bolivia,
priestly rule remained as strong as ever. To enter on and retain his
office he must perforce submit to Church authority. When in his employ,
however, I openly declared myself a Protestant missionary; and, because
of exploration work, was made a Bolivian citizen.

In 1897 it was my great joy to preach the gospel in Ensenada. Many and
attentive were the listeners as for the first time in their lives they
were told of the Man of Calvary who died that they might live. With
exclamations of wonder they sometimes said: "What fortunate people we
are to have heard such words!" Four men and five women were born again.
Ensenada, built on a malarial swamp, was reeking with miasma, and the
houses were raised on posts about a yard above the slime. I was in
consequence stricken with malarial fever. One day a man who had
attended the meetings came into my room, and, kneeling down, asked the
Lord not to let me suffer, but to take me quickly. After long weeks of
illness, God, however, raised me up again, and the meetings were
resumed, when the reason of the priest's non-interference was made
known to me. He had been away on a long vacation, and, on his return,
hearing of my services, he ordered the church bells rung furiously. On
my making enquiries why the bells clanged so, I was informed that a
special service was called in the church. At that service a special
text was certainly taken, for I was the text. During the course of the
sermon, the preacher in his fervid eloquence even forbade the people to
look at me. After that my residence in the town was most difficult. The
barber would not cut my hair, nor would the butcher sell me his meat,
and I have gone into stores with the money ostentatiously showing in my
hand only to hear the word, "_Afuera_!" (Get out!) When I appeared on
the street I was pelted with stones by the men, while the women ran
away from me with covered faces! It was now a sin to look at me!

I reopened the little hall, however, for public services. It had been
badly used and was splashed with mud and filth. The first night men
came to the meetings in crowds just to disturb, and one of these shot
at me, but the bullet only pierced the wall behind. A policeman marched
in and bade me accompany him to the police station, and on the way
thither I was severely hurt by missiles which were thrown at me. An
official there severely reprimanded me for thus disturbing the quiet
town, and I was ushered in before the judge. That dignified gentleman
questioned me as to the object of my meetings. Respectfully answering,
I said: "To tell the people how they can be saved from sin." Then, as
briefly as possible, I unfolded my mission. The man's countenance
changed. Surely my words were to him an idle tale--he knew them not.
After cautioning me not to repeat the offence, he gave me my liberty,
but requested me to leave the town. Rev. F. Penzotti, of the B. & F. B.
Society, was imprisoned in a dungeon for eight long months, so I was
grateful for deliverance.

An acquaintance who was eye-witness to the scene, though himself not a
Christian, tells the following sad story:

"Away near the foot of the great Andes, nestling quietly in a fertile
valley, shut away, one would think, from all the world beyond, lay the
village of E---. The inhabitants were a quiet, home-loving people, who
took life as they found it, and as long as they had food for their
mouths and clothes for their backs, cared little for anything else. One
matter, however, had for some little time been troubling them, viz.,
the confession of their sins to a priest. After due consideration, it
was decided to ask Father A., living some seventeen leagues distant, to
state the lowest sum for which he would come to receive their
confessions. 'One hundred dollars,' he replied, 'is the lowest I can
accept, and as soon as you send it I will come.'

"After a great effort, for they were very poor, forty dollars was
raised amongst them, and word was sent to Father A. that they could not
possibly collect any more. Would he take pity on them and accept that
sum? 'What! only forty dollars in the whole of E---,' was his reply,
'and you dare to offer me that! No! I will not come, and, furthermore,
from this day I pronounce a curse on your village, and every living
person and thing there. Your children will all sicken and die, your
cattle all become covered with disease, and you will know no comfort
nor happiness henceforth. I, Father A., have said it, and it will come
to pass.'

"Where was the quiet, peaceful scene of a few weeks before? Gone, and
in its place all terror and confusion. These ignorant people, believing
the words of the priest, gathered together their belongings and fled.
As I saw those poor, simple people leaving the homes which had
sheltered them for years, as well as their ancestors before them, and
with feverish haste hurrying down the valley--every few minutes looking
back, with intense sorrow and regret stamped on their faces--I thought
surely these people need some one to tell them of Jesus, for, little as
I know about Him, I am convinced that He does not wish them to be
treated thus."

The priest is satisfied with nothing less than the most complete
submission of the mind and body of his flock. A woman must often give
her last money for masses, and a man toil for months on the
well-stocked land of the divine father to save his soul. If he fail to
do this, or any other sentence the priest may impose, he is condemned
to eternal perdition.

Mr. Patrick, of the R. B. M. U., has described to me how, soon after he
landed in Trujilla, he attended service at a Jesuit church. He had
introduced some gospels into the city, and a special sermon was
preached against the Bible. During the service the priest produced one
of the gospels, and, holding it by the covers, solemnly put the leaves
into the burning candle by his side, and then stamped on the ashes on
the pulpit floor. The same priest, however, Ricardo Gonzales by name,
thought it no wrong to have seventeen children to various mothers, and
his daughters were leaders in society. "Men love darkness rather than
light because their deeds are evil." In Trujilla, right opposite my
friend's house, there lived, at the same time, a highly respected
priest, who had, with his own hands, lit the fire that burnt alive a
young woman who had embraced Christianity through missionary preaching.
Bear in mind, reader, I am not writing of the dark ages, but of what
occurred just outside Trujilla during my residence in the country. Even
in 1910, Missionary Chapman writes of a convert having his feet put in
the stocks for daring to distribute God's Word. [Footnote: I never saw
greater darkness excepting in Central Africa. I visited 70 of the
largest cathedrals, and, after diligent enquiry, found only one Bible,
and that a Protestant Bible about to be burned--Dr. Robert E. Speer, in
"Missionary Review of the World," August, 1911.]

Up to four years ago, the statute was in force that "Every one who
directly or through any act conspires to establish in Bolivia any other
religion than that which the republic professes, namely, that of the
Roman Catholic Apostolic Church, is a traitor, and shall suffer the
penalty of death."

After a week's stay in Piedra Blanca, during which I had ample time for
such comparisons as these I have penned, quarantine lifted, and the
expedition staff separated. I departed on horseback to inspect a tract
of land on another frontier of Bolivia 1,300 miles distant.




PART III.

PARAGUAY

[Illustration: AN INDIAN AND HIS GOD NANDEYARA]


  "I need not follow the beaten path;
  I do not hunt for any path;
  I will go where there is no path,
  And leave a trail."




PARAGUAY

Paraguay, though one of the most isolated republics of South America,
is one of the oldest. A hundred years before the "Mayflower" sailed
from old Plymouth there was a permanent settlement of Spaniards near
the present capital. The country has 98,000 square miles of territory,
but a population of only 800,000. Paraguay may almost be called an
Indian republic, for the traveller hears nothing but the soft Guarani
language spoken all over the country. It is in this republic that the
yerba mate grows. That is the chief article of commerce, for at least
fifteen millions of South Americans drink this tea, already frequently
referred to. Thousands of tons of the best oranges are grown, and its
orange groves are world-famed.

The old capital, founded in 1537, was built without regularity of plan,
but the present city, owing to the despotic sway of Francia, is most
symmetrical. That South American Nero issued orders for all houses that
were out of his lines to be demolished by their owners. "One poor man
applied to know what remuneration he was to have, and the dictator's
answer was: 'A lodgment gratis in the public prison.' Another asked
where he was to go, and the answer was, 'To a state dungeon.' Both
culprits were forthwith lodged in their respective new residences, and
their houses were levelled to the ground."

"Such was the terror inspired by the man that the news that he was out
would clear the streets. A white Paraguayan dared not utter his name.
During his lifetime he was 'El Supremo,' and after he was dead for
generations he was referred to simply as 'El Difunto.'" [Footnote:
Robertson's "Reign of Terror."]

Paraguay, of all countries, has been most under the teaching of the
Jesuit priest, and the people in consequence are found to be the most
superstitious. Being an inland republic, its nearest point a thousand
miles from the sea-coast, it has been held in undisputed possession.

Here was waged between 1862 and 1870 what history describes as the most
annihilating war since Carthage fell. The little republic, standing out
for five and a half years against five other republics, fought with
true Indian bravery and recklessness, until for every man in the
country there could be numbered nine women (some authorities say
eleven); and this notwithstanding the fact that the women in thousands
carried arms and fought side by side with the men. The dictator Lopez,
who had with such determination of purpose held out so long, was
finally killed, and his last words, "_Muero con la patria_" (I die with
the country) were truly prophetic, for the country has never risen
since.

Travellers agree in affirming that of all South Americans the
Paraguayans are the most mild-mannered and lethargic; yet when these
people are once aroused they fight with tigerish pertinacity. The pages
of history may be searched in vain for examples of warfare waged at
such odds; but the result is invariably the same, the weaker nation,
whether right or wrong, goes under. Although the national mottoes vary
with the different flags, yet the Chilian is the most universally
followed in South America, as elsewhere: "_Por la razon o la fuerza_"
(By right or by might). The Paraguayans contended heroically for what
they considered their rights, and such bloody battles were fought that
at Curupaita alone 5,000 dead and dying were left on the field! Added
to the carnage of battle was disease on every hand. The worst epidemic
of smallpox ever known in the annals of history was when the Brazilians
lost 43,000 men, while this war was being waged against Paraguay. One
hundred thousand bodies were left unburied, and on them the wild
animals and vultures gorged themselves. The saying now is a household
word, that the jaguar of those lands is the most to be dreaded, through
having tasted so much human blood.

"Lopez, the cause of all this sacrifice and misery, has gone to his
final account, his soul stained with the blood of seven hundred
thousand of his people, the victims of his ambition and cruelty."

Towns which flourished before the outbreak of hostilities were sacked
by the emboldened Indians from the Chaco and wiped off the map, San
Salvador (Holy Saviour) being a striking example. I visited the ruins
of this town, where formerly dwelt about 8,000 souls. Now the streets
are grass-grown, and the forest is creeping around church and barracks,
threatening to bury them. I rode my horse through the high portal of
the cannon-battered church, while the stillness of the scene reminded
me of a city of the dead. City of the dead, truly--men and women and
children who have passed on! My horse nibbled the grass growing among
the broken tiles of the floor, while I, in imagination, listened to the
"passing bell" in the tower above me, and under whose shade I sought
repose. A traveller, describing this site, says: "It is a place of
which the atmosphere is one great mass of malaria, and the heat
suffocating--where the surrounding country is an uninterrupted
marsh--where venomous insects and reptiles abound." San Salvador as a
busy mart has ceased to exist, and the nearest approach to "the human
form divine," found occasionally within its walls, is the howling
monkey. Such are the consequences of war! During the last ten years
Paraguay has been slowly recovering from the terrible effects of this
war, but a republic composed mostly of women is severely handicapped.
[Footnote: Would the suffragettes disagree with the writer here?]

Paraguay is a poor land; the value of its paper currency, like that of
most South American countries, fluctuates almost daily. In 1899 the
dollar was worth only twelve cents, and for five gold dollars I have
received in exchange as many as forty-six of theirs. Yet there is a
great future for Paraguay. It has been called the Paradise of South
America, and although the writer has visited sixteen different
countries of the world, he thinks of Paraguay with tender longing. It
is perhaps the richest land on earth naturally, and produces so much
mate that one year's production would make a cup of tea for every man,
woman and child on the globe. Oranges and bananas can be bought at six
cents a hundred, two millions of cattle fatten on its rich pasture
lands; but, of all the countries the writer has travelled in, Mexico
comes first as a land of beggars, and poor Paraguay comes second.




CHAPTER VIII.

ASUNCION.


Being in England in 1900 for change and rest, I was introduced to an
eccentric old gentleman of miserly tendencies, but possessed of
$5,000,000. Hearing of my wanderings in South America, he told me that
he owned a tract of land thirteen miles square in Paraguay, and would
like to know something of its value. The outcome of this visit was that
I was commissioned by him to go to that country and explore his
possession, so I proceeded once more to my old field of labor. Arriving
at the mouth of the River Plate, after five weeks of sea-tossing, I
was, with the rest, looking forward to our arrival in Buenos Ayres,
when a steam tug came puffing alongside, and we were informed that as
the ship had touched at the infected port of Bahia, all passengers must
be fumigated, and that we must submit to three weeks' quarantine on
Flores Island. The Port doctor has sent a whole ship-load to the island
for so trifling a cause as that a sailor had a broken collar-bone, so
we knew that for us there was nothing but submission. Disembarking from
the ocean steamer on to lighters, we gave a last look at the coveted
land, "so near and yet so far," and were towed away to three small
islands in the centre of the river, about fifty miles distant. One
island is set apart as a burial ground, one is for infected patients,
and the other, at which we were landed, is for suspects. On that desert
island, with no other land in sight than the sister isles, we were
given time to chew the cud of bitter reflection. They gave us little
else to chew! The food served up to us consisted of strings of dried
beef, called _charqui_, which was brought from the mainland in dirty
canvas bags. This was often supplemented by boiled seaweed. Being
accustomed to self-preservation, I was able to augment this diet with
fish caught while sitting on the barren rocks of our sea-girt prison.
Prison it certainly was, for sentries, armed with Remingtons, herded us
like sheep.

The three weeks' detention came to an end, as everything earthly does,
and then an open barge, towed by a steam-launch, conveyed us to
Montevideo. Quite a fresh breeze was blowing, and during our eleven
hours' journey we were repeatedly drenched with spray. Delicate ladies
lay down in the bottom of the boat in the throes of seasickness, and
were literally washed to and fro, and saturated, as they said, to the
heart. We landed, however, and I took passage up to Asuncion in the
"Olympo."

The "Olympo" is a palatial steamer, fitted up like the best Atlantic
liners with every luxury and convenience. On the ship there were
perhaps one hundred cabin passengers, and in the steerage were six
hundred Russian emigrants bound for Corrientes, three days' sail north.
Two of these women were very sick, so the chief steward, to whom I was
known, hurried me to them, and I was thankful to be able to help the
poor females.

The majestic river is broad, and in some parts so thickly studded with
islands that it appears more like a chain of lakes than a flowing
stream. As we proceeded up the river the weather grew warmer, and the
native clothing of sheepskins the Russians had used was cast aside. The
men, rough and bearded, soon had only their under garments on, and the
women wore simply that three-quarter length loose garment well known to
all females, yet they sweltered in the unaccustomed heat.

At midnight of the third day we landed them at Corrientes, and the
women, in their white (?) garments, with their babies and ikons, and
bundles--and husbands--trod on terra firma for the first time in seven
weeks.

After about twelve days' sail we came to Bella Vista, at which point
the river is eighteen miles wide. Sixteen days after leaving the mouth
of the river, we sighted the red-tiled roofs of the houses at Asuncion,
the capital of Paraguay, built on the bank of the river, which is there
only a mile wide, but thirty feet deep. The river boats land their
passengers at a rickety wooden wharf, and Indians carry the baggage on
their heads into the dingy customs house. After this has been inspected
by the cigarette-smoking officials, the dark-skinned porters are
clamorously eager to again bend themselves under the burden and take
your trunks to an hotel, where you follow, walking over the exceedingly
rough cobbled streets. There is not a cab for hire in the whole city.
The two or three hotels are fifth-rate, but charge only about thirty
cents a day.

Asuncion is a city of some 30,000 inhabitants Owing to its isolated
position, a thousand miles from the sea-coast, it is perhaps the most
backward of all the South American capitals. Although under Spanish
rule for three hundred years, the natives still retain the old Indian
language and the Guarani idiom is spoken by all.

The city is lit up at night with small lamps burning oil, and these
lights shed fitful gleams here and there. The oil burned bears the
high-sounding trade-mark, "Light of the World," and that is the only
"light of the world" the native knows of. The lamps are of so little
use that females never dream of going out at night without carrying
with them a little tin farol, with a tallow dip burning inside.

I have said the street lamps give little light. I must make exception
of one week of the year, when there is great improvement. That week
they are carefully cleaned and trimmed, for it is given up as a feast
to the Virgin, and the lights are to shed radiance on gaudy little
images of that august lady which are inside of each lamp. The Pal, or
father priest, sees that these images are properly honored by the
people. He is here as elsewhere, the moving spirit.

San Bias is the patron saint of the country, It is said he won for the
Paraguayans a great victory in an early war. St. Cristobel receives
much homage also because he helped the Virgin Mary to carry the infant
Jesus across a river on the way to Egypt.

Asuncion was for many years the recluse headquarters of the Jesuits, so
of all enslaved Spanish-Americans probably the Guaranis are the worst.
During Lent they will inflict stripes on their bodies, or almost starve
themselves to death; and their abject humility to the Pai is sad to
witness. On special church celebrations large processions will walk the
streets, headed by the priests, chanting in Latin. The people sometimes
fall over one another in their eager endeavors to kiss the priest's
garments, They prostrate themselves, count their beads, confess their
sins, and seek the coveted blessing of this demi-god, "who shuts the
kingdom of heaven, and keeps the key in his own pocket."

A noticeable feature of the place is that all the inhabitants go
barefooted. Ladies (?) will pass you with their stiffly-starched white
dresses, and raven-black hair neatly done up with  ribbons, but
with feet innocent of shoes. Soldiers and policemen tramp the streets,
but neither are provided with footwear, and their clothes are often in
tatters. The Jesuits taught the Indians to _make_ shoes, but they alone
_wore_ them, exporting the surplus. Shoes are not for common people,
and when one of them dares to cover his feet he is considered
presumptuous. Hats they never wear, but they have the beautiful custom
of weaving flowers in their hair. When flowers are not worn the head is
covered by a white sheet called the _tupoi_, and in some cases this
garment is richly embroidered. These females are devoted Romanists, as
will be seen from the following description of a feast held to St. John:

"Dona Juana's first care was to decorate with uncommon splendor a large
image of St. John, which, in a costly crystal box, she preserved as the
chief ornament of her principal drawing-room. He was painted anew and
re-gilded. He had a black velvet robe purchased for him, and trimmed
with deep gold lace. Hovering over him was a cherub. Every friend of
Dona Juana had lent some part of her jewellery for the decoration of
the holy man. Rings sparkled on his fingers; collars hung around his
neck; a tiara graced his venerable brow. The lacings of his sandals
were studded with pearls; a precious girdle bound his slender waist,
and six large wax candles were lighted up at the shrine. There,
embosomed in fragrant evergreens--the orange, the lime, the
acacia--stood the favorite saint, destined to receive the first homage
of every guest that should arrive. These all solemnly took off their
hats to the image."

Such religious mummery as this is painful to witness, and to see the
saint borne round in procession, with men carrying candles, and
white-clad girls with large birds' wings fastened to their shoulders,
dispels the idea of its being Christianity at all.

The people are gentle and mild-spoken. White-robed women lead strings
of donkeys along the streets, bearing huge panniers full of vegetables,
among which frequently play the women's babies. The panniers are about
a yard deep, and may often be seen full to the brim with live fowls
pinioned by the legs. Other women go around with large wicker trays on
their heads, selling _chipa_, the native bread, made from Indian corn,
or _mandioca_ root, the staple food of the country. Wheat is not grown
in Paraguay, and any flour used is imported. These daughters of Eve
often wear nothing more than a robe-de-chambre, and invariably smoke
cigars six or eight inches long. Their figure is erect and stately, and
the laughing eyes full of mischief and merriment; but they fade into
old age at forty. Until then they seem proud as children of their brass
jewellery and red coral beads. The Paraguayans are the happiest race of
people I have met; care seems undreamed of by them.

In the post-office of the capital I have sometimes been unable to
procure stamps, and "_Dypore_" (We have none) has been the civil answer
of the clerk. When they _had_ stamps they were not provided with
mucilage, but a brush and pot of paste were handed the buyer. If you
ask for a one cent stamp the clerk will cut a two cent stamp and give
you a half. They have, however, stamps the tenth part of a cent in
value, and a bank note in circulation whose face value is less than a
cent. There are only four numerals in the Guarani language: 1, _petei_;
2,_moncoi_; 3,_bohapy_; 4,_irundu_. It is not possible to express five
or six. No wonder, therefore, that when I bought five 40-cent stamps, I
found the clerk was unable to count the sum, and I had to come to the
rescue and tell him it was $2.00. At least eighty per cent. of the
people are unable to read. When they do, it is of course in Spanish, A
young man to whom I gave the Gospel of John carefully looked at it, and
then, turning to me, said: "Is this a history of that wonderful lawyer
we have been hearing about?" To those interested in the dissemination
of Scriptures, let me state that no single Gospel has as yet been
translated into Guarani.

A tentative edition of the "Sermon on the Mount" has recently been
issued by the British and Foreign Bible Society, a copy of which I had
the honor to be the first to present to the head executive.

Gentle simplicity is the chief characteristic of the people. If the
traveller relates the most ordinary events that pass in the outside
world, they will join in the exclamation of surprise-"_Ba-eh-pico!
Ba-eh-pico!_"

Information that tends to their lowering is not always accepted thus,
however, for a colonel in the army, when told that Asuncion could be
put into a large city graveyard, hastily got up from the dinner table
and went away in wounded pride and incredulity. The one who is supposed
to "know a little" likes to keep his position, and the Spanish proverb
is exemplified: _"En tierra de los ciegos, el tuerto es rey"_ (In the
blind country the one-eyed are kings). The native is most guileless and
ignorant, as can well be understood when his language is an unwritten
one.

Paraguay is essentially a land of fruit, 200 oranges may be bought for
the equivalent of six cents. Small mountains of oranges may always be
seen piled up on the banks ready to be shipped down the river. Women
are employed to load the vessels with this fruit, which they carry in
baskets on their heads. Everything is carried on their heads, even to a
glass bottle. My laundress, Cunacarai [Footnote: The Guarani idiom can
boast of but few words, and Mr., Mrs. and Miss are simply rendered
"carai" (man), "cuna-carai" (woman) and "cunatai" (young woman); "mita
cuna" is girl, "mita cuimbai" is boy, and "mita mishi"--baby.] Jesus,
although an old woman, could bear almost incredible weights on her hard
skull.

As the climate is hot, a favorite occupation for men and women is to
sit half-submerged in the river, smoking vigorously "The Paraguayans
are an amphibious race, neither wholly seamen nor wholly landsmen, but
partaking of both." All sleep in cotton hammocks,--beds are almost
unknown. The hammocks are slung on the verandah of the house in the
hotter season and all sleep outside, taking off their garments with
real _sang froid_. In the cooler season the visitor is invited to hang
his hammock along with the rest inside the house, and in the early
morning naked little children bring mate to each one. If the family is
wealthy this will be served in a heavy silver cup and _bombilla_, or
sucking tube, of the same metal. After this drink and a bite of
_chipa_, a strangely shaped, thin-necked bottle, made of sun-baked
clay, is brought, and from it water is poured on the hands. The towels
are spotlessly white and of the finest texture. They are hand-made, and
are so delicately woven and embroidered that I found it difficult to
accustom myself to use them. The beautifully fine lace called _nanduti_
(literally spider's web) is also here made by the Indian women, who
have long been civilized. Some of the handkerchiefs they make are worth
$50 each in the fashionable cities of America and Europe. A month's
work may easily be expended on such a dainty fabric.

The women seem exceptionally fond of pets. Monkeys and birds are common
in a house, and the housewife will show you her parrot and say, "In
this bird dwells the spirit of my departed mother." An enemy, somehow,
has always turned into an alligator--a reptile much loathed by them.

In even the poorest houses there is a shrine and a "Saint." These
deities can answer all prayers if they choose to. Sometimes, however,
they are not "in the humor," and at one house the saint had refused, so
he was laid flat on the floor, face downwards. The woman swore that
until he answered her petition she would not lift him up again. He laid
thus all night; whether longer or not I do not know.

Having heard much concerning the _moralite_ of the people, I asked the
maid at a respectable private house where I was staying: "Have you a
father?" "No, sir," she answered, "we Paraguayans are not accustomed to
have a father." Children of five or six, when asked about that parent,
will often answer, "Father died in the war." The war ended thirty-nine
years ago, but they have been taught to say this by the mother.

As in Argentina the first word the stranger learns is _manana_
(to-morrow), so here the first is _dy-qui_ (I don't know). Whatever
question you ask the Guarani, he will almost invariably answer,
"_Dy-qui_." Ask him his age, he answers "_Dy-qui_" To your question:
"Are you twenty or one hundred and twenty?" he will reply "_Dy-qui_."
Through the long rule of the Jesuits the natives stopped thinking; they
had it all done for them. "At the same time that they enslaved them,
they tortured them into the profession of the religion they had
imported; and as they had seen that in the old land the love of this
world and the deceitfulness of riches were ever in the way of
conversion to the true faith, they piously relieved the Indians of
these snares of the soul, even going so far in the discharge of this
painful duty as to relieve them of life at the same time, if necessary
to get their possessions into their own hands," [Footnote: Robertson's
"Letters on Paraguay."]

"The stories of their hardness, and perfidy, and immorality beggar
description. The children of the priests have become so numerous that
the shame is no longer considered." [Footnote: Service.]

As the Mahometans have their Mecca, so the Paraguayans have Caacupe;
and the image of the Virgin in that village is the great wonder-worker.
Prayers are directed to her that she will raise the sick, etc., and
promises are made her if she will do this. One morning I had business
with a storekeeper, and went to his office. "Is the carai in?" I asked.
"No," I was answered, "he has gone to Caacupe to pay a promise." That
promise was to burn so many candles before the Virgin, and further
adorn her bejewelled robes. She had, as he believed, healed him of a
sickness.

The village of Caacupe is about forty miles from Asuncion. "The Bishop
of Paraguay formally inaugurated the worship of the Virgin of Caacupe,
sending forth an episcopal letter accrediting the practice, and
promising indulgences to the pilgrims who should visit the shrine. Thus
the worship became legal and orthodox. Multitudes of people visit her,
carrying offerings of valuable jewels. There are several
_well-authenticated_ cases of persons, whose offerings were of inferior
quality, being overtaken with some terrible calamity." [Footnote:
Washburn's "History of Paraguay."]

Funds must be secured somehow, for the present Bishop's sons, to whom I
was introduced as among the aristocrats of the capital, certainly need
a large income from the lavish manner I noticed them "treat" all and
sundry in the hotel. "It is admitted by all, that in South America the
church is decadent and corrupt. The immorality of the priests is taken
for granted. Priests' sons and daughters, of course not born in
wedlock, abound everywhere, and no stigma attaches to them or to their
fathers and mothers." [Footnote: "The Continent of Opportunity." Dr.
Clark.] Hon. S. H. Blake, in the _Neglected Continent_, writes: "I was
especially struck by the statement of a Roman Catholic--a Consular
agent with a large amount of information as to the land and its
inhabitants. He stopped me in speaking of the priests by saying, 'I
know all that. You cannot exaggerate their immorality. Everybody knows
it--but the Latin race is a degenerate race. Nothing can be done with
it. The Roman Church has had four centuries of trial and has made a
failure of it.'"

When a person is dying, the Pai is hurriedly sent for. To this call he
will readily respond. A procession will be formed, and, preceded by a
boy ringing a bell, the _Host_, or, to use an everyday expression,
_God_, will be carried from the church down the street to the sick one.
All passers-by must kneel as this goes along, and the police will
arrest you if you do not at least take off your hat. "Liberty of
conscience is a most diabolical thing, to be stamped out at any cost,"
is the maxim of Rome, and the Guarani has learned his lesson well. "In
Inquisition Square men were burned for daring to think, therefore men
stopped thinking when death was the penalty."

Wakes for the dead are always held, and in the case of a child the
little one lies in state adorned with gilded wings and tinselled
finery. All in the neighborhood are invited to the dance which takes
place that evening around the corpse. At a funeral the Pai walks first,
followed by a crowd of men, women and children bearing candles, some of
which are four and five feet long. The dead are carried through the
streets in a very shallow coffin, and the head is much elevated. An old
woman generally walks by the side, bearing the coffin lid on her head.
The dead are always buried respectfully, for an old law reads: "No
person shall ride in the dead cart except the corpse that is carried,
and, therefore, nobody shall get up and ride behind. It is against
Christian piety to bury people with irreverent actions, or drag them in
hides, or throw them into the grave without consideration, or in a
position contrary to the practice of the Church."

All Saints Day is a special time for releasing departed ones out of
purgatory. Hundreds of people visit the cemeteries then, and pay the
waiting priests so much a prayer, If that "liberator of souls" sings
the prayer the price is doubled, but it is considered doubly
efficacious.

A good feature of Romanism in Paraguay is that the people have been
taught something of Christ, but there seems to be an utter want of
reverence toward His person, for one may see a red flag on the public
streets announcing that there are the "Auction Rooms of the child God."
In his "Letters on Paraguay," Robertson relates the following graphic
account of the celebration of His death: "I found great preparations
making at the cathedral for the sermon of 'the agony on the cross.' A
wooden figure of our Saviour crucified was affixed against the wall,
opposite the pulpit; a large bier was placed in the centre of the
cathedral, and the great altar at the eastern extremity was hung with
black; while around were disposed lighted candles and other insignia of
a great funeral. When the sermon commenced, the cathedral was crowded
to suffocation, a great proportion of the audience being females. The
discourse was interrupted alternately by the low moans and sobbings of
the congregation. These became more audible as the preacher warmed with
his discourse, which was partly addressed to his auditory and partly to
the figure before him; and when at length he exclaimed, 'Behold!
Behold! He gives up the ghost!' the head of the figure was slowly
depressed by a spring towards the breast, and one simultaneous
shriek--loud, piercing, almost appalling--was uttered by the whole
congregation. The women now all struggled for a superiority in giving
unbounded vent to apparently the most distracting grief. Some raved
like maniacs, others beat their breasts and tore their hair.
Exclamations, cries, sobs and shrieks mingled, and united in forming
one mighty tide of clamor, uproar, noise and confusion. In the midst of
the raging tempest could be heard, ever and anon, the stentorian voice
of the preacher, reproaching in terms of indignation and wrath the
apathy of his hearers! 'Can you, oh, insensate crowd!' he would cry,
'Can you sit in silence?'--but here his voice was drowned in an
overwhelming cry of loudest woe, from every part of the church; and for
five minutes all further effort to make himself heard was unavailing.
This singular scene continued for nearly half an hour; then, by
degrees, the vehement grief of the congregation abated, and when I left
the cathedral it had subsided once more into low sobs and silent tears.

"I now took my way, with many others, to the Church of San Francisco,
where, in an open space in front of the church, I found that the duty
of the day had advanced to the funeral service, which was about being
celebrated. There a scaffolding was erected, and the crucifixion
exactly represented by wooden figures, not only of our Lord, but of the
two thieves. A pulpit was erected in front of the scaffold; and the
whole square was covered by the devout inhabitants of the city. The
same kind of scene was being enacted here as at the cathedral, with the
difference, however, of the circumstantial funeral in place of the
death. The orator's discourse when I arrived was only here and there
interrupted by a suppressed moan, or a struggling sigh, to be heard in
the crowd. But when he commenced giving directions for the taking down
of the body from the cross, the impatience of grief began to manifest
itself on all sides, 'Mount up,' he cried, 'ye holy ministers, mount
up, and prepare for the sad duty which ye have to perform!' Here six or
eight persons, covered from head to foot with ample black cloaks,
ascended the scaffold. Now the groans of the people became more
audible; and when at length directions were given to strike out the
first nail, the cathedral scene of confusion, which I have just
described, began, and all the rest of the preacher's oratory was dumb
show. The body was at length deposited in the coffin, and the groaning
and shrieking of the assembled multitude ceased. A solemn funeral
ceremony took place: every respectable person received a great wax
taper to carry in the procession: the coffin after being carried all
round was deposited in the church: the people dispersed; and the great
day of Passion Week was brought to a close."




CHAPTER IX.

EXPEDITION TO THE SUN-WORSHIPPERS. [Footnote: An account of this
expedition was requested by and sent to the Royal Geographical Society
of London, Eng.]


I took passage on the "Urano," a steamer of 1,500 tons, for Concepcion,
200 miles north of Asuncion.

On the second day of our journey the people on board celebrated a
church feast, and the pilot, in his anxiety to do it well, got
helplessly drunk. The result was that during that night I was thrown
out of the top berth I occupied by a terrific thud. The steamer had run
on the sandbank of an uninhabited island, and there she stuck
fast--immovable. We were landed on the shore, and there had further
time for reflection on the mutability of things. In the white sand
there were distinct footprints of a large jaguar and cub, probably come
to prey on the lazy alligators that were lying on the beach; and I
caught sight of a large spotted serpent, which glided into the low
jungle where the tiger also doubtless was in hiding.

After three days' detention here, a Brazilian packet took us off. On
stepping aboard, I saw what I thought to be two black pigs lying on the
deck. I assure the reader that it was some seconds before I discovered
that one was not a pig, but a man!

At sunset it is the custom on these river boats for all to have a bath.
The females go to one side of the ship, and the males to the other;
buckets are lowered, and in turn they throw water over each other.
After supper, in the stillness of the evening, dancing is the order,
and bare feet keep time to the twang of the guitar.

We occasionally caught sight of savages on the west bank of the river,
and the captain informed me that he had once brought up a bag of beans
to give them. The beans had been _poisoned_, in order that the
miserable creatures might be _swept off the earth!_

We landed at Concepcion, and I walked ashore. I found the only British
subject living there was a university graduate, but--a prodigal son
Owing to his habit of constant drinking, the authorities of the town
compelled him to work. As I passed up the street I saw him mending a
road of the "far country" There I procured five horses, a stock of
beads, knives, etc, for barter, and made ready for my land journey into
the far interior. The storekeeper, hearing of my plans, strongly urged
me not to attempt the journey, and soon all the village talked. Vague
rumors of the unknown savages of the interior had been heard, and it
was said the expedition could only end in disaster, especially as I was
not even going to get the blessing of the Pai before starting. I was
fortunate, however, in securing the companionship of an excellent man
who bore the suggestive name of "Old Stabbed Arm"; and Dona Dolores
(Mrs. Sorrows), true to her name, whom I engaged to make me about
twenty pounds of chipa, said she would intercede with her saint for me.
Loading the pack-horse with chipa, beads, looking-glasses, knives,
etc., Old Stabbed Arm and I mounted our horses, and, each taking a
spare one by the halter, drove the pack-saddle mare in front, leaving
the tenderhearted Mrs. Sorrows weeping behind. The roads are simply
paths through deep red sand, into which the horses sank up to their
knees; and they are so uneven that one side is frequently two feet
higher than the other, so we could travel only very slowly. From time
to time we had to push our way into the dense forest on either side, in
order to give space for a string of bullock carts to go past. These
vehicles are eighteen or twenty feet long, but have only two wheels.
They are drawn by ten or twelve oxen, which are urged on by goads
fastened to a bamboo, twenty feet long, suspended from the roof of the
cart, which is thatched with reeds. The goads are artistically trimmed
with feathers of parrots and macaws, or with bright ribbons. These are
of all colors, but those around the sharp nail at the end are further
painted with red blood every time the goad is used.

The carts, rolling and straining like ships in foul weather, can be
heard a mile off, owing to the humming screech of the wheels, which are
never greased, but on the contrary have powdered charcoal put in them
to _increase_ the noise. Without this music (?) the bullocks do not
work so well. How the poor animals could manage to draw the load was
often a mystery to me, Sections of the road were partly destroyed by
landslides and heavy rains, but down the slippery banks of rivers,
through the beds of torrents or up the steep inclines they somehow
managed to haul the unwieldy vehicle. Strings of loaded donkeys or
mules, with jingling bells, also crawled past, and I noticed with a
smile that even the animals in this idolatrous land cannot get on
without the Virgin, for they have tiny statuettes of her standing
between their ears to keep them from danger. Near the town the rivers
and streams are bridged over with tree trunks placed longitudinally,
and the crevices are filled in with boughs and sods. Some of them are
so unsafe and have such gaping holes that I frequently dismounted and
led my horse over.

The tropical scenery was superb. Thousands of orange trees growing by
the roadside, filled with luscious fruit on the lower branches, and on
the top with the incomparable orange blossoms, afforded delight to the
eye, and notwithstanding the heat, kept us cool, for as we rode we
could pluck and eat. Tree ferns twenty and thirty feet high waved their
feathery fronds in the gentle breeze, and wild pineapples growing at
our feet loaded the air with fragrance.

There was the graceful pepper tree, luxuriant hanging lichens, or
bamboos forty feet high, which riveted the attention and made one think
what a beautiful world God has made. Many of the shrubs and plants
afford dyes of the richest hues, Azara found four hundred new species
of the feathered tribe in the gorgeous woods and coppices of Paraguay,
and all, with the melancholy _caw_, _caw_ of the toucans overhead,
spoke of a tropical land. Parrots chattered in the trees, and sometimes
a serpent glided across the red sand road. Unfortunately, flies were so
numerous and so tormenting that, even with the help of a green branch,
we could not keep off the swarms, and around the horses' eyes were
dozens of them. Several menacing hornets also troubled us. They are
there so fierce that they can easily sting a man or a horse to death!

As night fell we came to an open glade, and there beside a clear,
gurgling brook staked out our horses and camped for the night. Building
a large fire of brushwood, we ate our supper, and then lay down on our
saddlecloths, the firmament of God with its galaxy of stars as our
covering overhead.

By next evening we reached the village of Pegwaomi. On the way we had
passed a house here and there, and had seen children ten or twelve
years of age sucking sticks of sugar-cane, but content with no other
clothing than their rosary, or an image of the Virgin round their
necks, like those the mules wear. Pegwaomi, I saw, was quite a village,
its pretty houses nestling among orange and lime trees, with luscious
bananas in the background. There was no Pai in Pegwaomi, so I was able
to hold a service in an open shed, with a roof but no walls. The chief
man of the village gave me permission to use this novel building, and
twenty-three people came to hear the stranger speak. After the service
a poor woman was very desirous of confessing her sins to me, and she
thought I was a strange preacher when I told her of One in heaven to
whom she should confess.

"Paraguay, from its first settlement, never departed from 'the age of
faith' Neither doubt nor free-thinking in regard to spiritual affairs
ever perplexed the people, but in all religious matters they accepted
the words of the fathers as the unquestionable truth. Unfortunately,
the priests were, with scarcely an exception, lazy and profligate; yet
the people were so superstitious and credulous that they feared to
disobey them, or reserve anything which they might be required to
confess." [Footnote: Washburn's "History of Paraguay."]

In the front gardens of many of the rustic houses I noticed a wooden
cross draped with broad white lace. The dead are always interred in the
family garden, and these marked the site of the graves. When the people
can afford it, a priest is brought to perform the sad rite of burial,
but the Paraguayan Pai is proverbially drunken and lazy. Once after a
church feast, which was largely given up to drinking, the priest fell
over on the floor in a state of intoxication. "While he thus lay drunk,
a boy crawled through the door to ask his blessing, whereupon the
priest swore horribly and waved him off, 'Not to-day, not to-day those
farces! I am drunk, very drunk!'" Such an one has been described by
Pollock: "He was a man who stole the livery of the court of heaven to
serve the devil in; in holy guise transacted villainies that ordinary
mortals durst not meddle with."

Lest it might be thought that I am strongly prejudiced, I give this
extract from a responsible historian of that unhappy land: "The
simple-minded and superstitious Paraguayans reverenced a Pai, or
father, as the immediate representative of God. They blindly and
implicitly followed the instructions given to them, and did whatever
was required at his hands. Many of the licentious brotherhood took
advantage of this superstitious confidence placed in them by the people
to an extent which, in a moral country, would not only shock every
feeling of our nature to relate, but would, in the individual
instances, appear to be incredible, and, in the aggregate, be counted
as slanderous on humanity."

During my stay in Pagwaomi, a dance was held on the sward outside one
of the houses, and the national whirl, the _sarandiy_, gave pleasure to
all. The females wove flowers in their hair, and made garlands of them
to adorn their waists. Others had caught fire-flies, which nestled in
the wavy tresses and lit up the semi-darkness with a soft light, like
so many green stars. Love whisperings, in the musical Guarani, were
heard by willing ears, and eyelight was thus added to starlight. As the
dancers flitted here and there in their white garments, or came out
from the shade of the orange trees, they looked ethereal, like the
inhabitants of another world one sees at times in romantic dreams, for
this village is surely a hundred years behind the moon.

From this scene of innocent happiness I was taken to more than one
sick-bed, for it soon became known that I carried medicines.

Will the reader accompany me? Enter then--a windowless mud hut See,
lying on sheepskins and burning with fever, a young woman-almost a
girl-wailing "_Che raciy!>_" (I am sick!) Notice the intense eagerness
of her eyes as she gazes into mine when I commence to minister to her.
Watch her submit to my necessarily painful treatment with child-like
faith. Then, before we quietly steal out again, listen to her
low-breathed "_Acuerame_" (Already I feel better).

In a larger house, a hundred yards away, an earthenware lamp, with
cotton wick dipping in raw castor oil, sheds fitful gleams on a dying
woman. The trail of sin is only too evident, even in thoughtless
Pegwaomi. The tinselled saints are on the altar at the foot of the bed,
and on the woman's breast, tightly clutched, is a crucifix, but Mrs.
Encarnacion has never heard of the Incarnate One whom she is soon to
meet. Perhaps, if Christians are awake by that time, her grandchildren
may hear the "story."

In that rustic cottage, half covered with jasmine, and shaded by a
royal palm, a child lies very sick. Listen to its low, weak moaning as
we cross the threshold. The mother has procured a piece of tape, the
length of which, she says, is the exact measure of the head of Saint
Blas. This she has repeatedly put around her babe's head as an
unfailing cure. Somehow the charm does not work and the woman is sorely
perplexed. While we helplessly look on the infant dies! Outside, the
moon soared high, throwing a silver veil over the grim pathos of it
all; but in the breast of the writer was a surging dissatisfaction
and--anger, at his fellow--Christians in the homeland, who in their
thoughtless selfishness will not reach out a helping hand to the
perishing of other lands.

Would the ever-present Spirit, who wrote "Be ye angry" not understand?
Would the Master of patience and forbearance, who Himself showed
righteous anger, enter into it? Is the Great God, who sees these sheep
left without a shepherd, Himself angry? Surely it is well to ask?

"Oh, heavy lies the weight of ill on many hearts, And comforters are
needed sore of Christlike touch."

In this village I made inquiries for another servant and guide, and was
directed to "Timoteo, the very man." Liking his looks, and being able
to come to satisfactory terms, I engaged him as my second helper.
Timoteo had a sister called Salvadora (Saviour). She pounded corn in a
mortar with a hardwood pestle, and made me another baking of chipa,
with which we further burdened the pack-horse, and away we started
again, with affectionate farewells and tears, towards the unknown.

Next day we were joined by a traveller who was escaping to the
interior. He plainly declared himself as a murderer, and told us he had
shot one of the doctors in Asuncion. Through being well connected, he
had, after three weeks' detention in prison, been liberated, as he
boasted to us, _con todo buen nombre y fama (with good name and
report). The relatives of the murdered man, however, did not agree with
this verdict, and sought his life. During the day we shot an iguana,
and after a meal from its fat tail our new acquaintance, finding the
pace too slow for his hasty flight, left us, and I was not sorry. We
met a string of bullock carts, each drawn by six animals and having a
spare one behind. The lumbering wagons were on their way from the
Paraguayan mate fields, and had a load of over two thousand pounds
each. Jolting over huge tree-trunks, or anon sinking in a swamp,
followed by swarms of gad-flies, the patient animals wended their way.

Here and there one may see by the roadside a large wooden cross, with a
rudely carved wooden rooster on the top, while below it are the nails,
scourge, hammer, pincers and spear of gruesome crucifixion memory. At
other places there are smaller shrines with a statuette of the Virgin
inside, and candles invariably burning, provided by the generous
wayfarers. It is interesting to note that the old Indians had, at the
advent of the Spaniards, cairns of stones along their paths, and the
pious Indian would contribute a stone when he passed as an offering to
Pachacamac, who would keep away the evil spirits. That custom is still
kept up by the Christian (?) Paraguayan, with the difference that _now_
it is given to the Virgin. My guide would get down from his horse when
we arrived at these altars, and contribute a stone to the ever-growing
heap. If a specially bright one is offered, he told me it was more
gratifying to the goddess. Feeling that we were very likely to meet
with many _evil spirits_, Timoteo carefully sought for bright stones.
The people are _very_ religious, yet with it all are terribly depraved!
The truth is seldom spoken, and my guide was, unfortunately, no
exception to the rule. As we left the haunts of men, and difficulties
thickened, he would often entreat the help of Holy Mary, but in the
same breath would lie and curse!

Sighting a miserable hut, we called to inquire for meat. The master of
the house, I discovered, was a leper, and I further learned, on asking
if I might water my horses, that the nearest water was three miles
away. The man and wife and their large family certainly looked as
though water was a luxury too costly to use on the skin. The leper was
most hospitable, however; he killed a sheep for us, and we sat down to
a feast of mutton. After this we pushed on to water the horses. By
sunset we arrived at a cattle ranch near the river Ipane, and there we
stayed for the night. At supper all dipped in the same stew-pan, and
afterwards rinsed out the mouth with large draughts of water, which
they squirted back on the brick floor of the dining-room. The men then
smoked cigarettes of tobacco rolled in corn leaves, and the women
smoked their six-inch-long cigars. Finding that two of the men
understood Spanish, I read some simple parts of scripture to them by
the light of a dripping grease lamp. They listened in silence, and
wondered at the strange new story. The mosquitoes were so troublesome
that a large platform, twenty feet high, had been erected, and after
reading all the inmates of the house, with us, ascended the ladder
leading to the top. There the mosquitoes did not disturb us, so we
slept peacefully on our aerial roost between the fire-flies of the
earth and the stars of heaven.

Next day we came to a solitary house, where I noticed strings of meat
hung in the sun to dry. This is left, like so many stockings and
handkerchiefs, hanging there until it is hard as wood; it will then
keep for an indefinite time. There we got a good dinner of fresh beef,
and about ten pounds of the dried meat (_charqui_) to take away with
us. At this place I bought two more horses, and we each got a large
bullock's horn in which to carry water, swinging from the saddle-tree.
I was not sorry to leave this house, for, tearing up the offal around
the building, I counted as many as sixty black vultures. Their king, a
dirty white bird with crimson neck covered with gore and filth, had
already gorged himself with all the blood he could get. "All his sooty
subjects stand apart at a respectful distance, whetting their appetites
and regaling their nostrils, but never dreaming of an approach to the
carcass till their master has sunk into a state of repletion. When the
kingly bird, by falling on his side, closing his eyes, and stretching
on the ground his unclenched talons, gives notice to his surrounding
and expectant subjects that their lord and master has gone to rest, up
they hop to the carcass, which in a few minutes is stripped of
everything eatable." Here we left the high-road, which is cut through
to Punta Pona on the Brazilian frontier, and struck off to the west.
Over the grassy plains we made good progress, and by evening were
thirty miles farther on our journey. But when we had to cut the path
before us through the forest, ten or twelve miles was a good day's
work. When the growth was very dense, the morning and evening camps
were perhaps only separated by a league. Anon we struggled through a
swamp, or the horses stuck fast in a bog, and the _carapatas_ feasted
on our blood. "What are carapatas?" you ask. They are leeches, bugs,
mosquitos, gad-flies, etc., all compounded into one venomous insect!
These voracious green ticks, the size of a bug, are indeed a terrible
scourge. They fasten on the body in scores, and when pulled away,
either the piece of flesh comes with them or the head of the carapata
is torn off. _It was easy to pick a hundred of these bugs off the body
at night_, but it was _not_ easy to sleep after the ordeal! The poor
horses, brushing through the branches on which the ticks wait for their
prey, were sometimes _half covered with them!_

As we continued our journey, a house was a rare sight, and soon we came
to "the end of Christianity," as Timoteo said, and all civilization was
left behind. The sandy road became a track, and then we could no longer
follow the path, for there was none to follow. Timoteo had traversed
those regions before in search of the mate plant, however, and with my
compass I kept the general direction.

After about ten days' travel, during which time we had many reminders
that the flesh-pots had been left behind, _"Che cane o"_ (I am tired)
was frequently heard. Game was exceedingly scarce, and it was possible
to travel for days without sighting any animal or ostrich. We passed no
houses, and saw no human beings. For two days we subsisted on hard
Indian corn. Water was scarce, and for a week we were unable to wash.
Jiggers got into our feet when sleeping on the ground, and these caused
great pain and annoyance. Someone has described a jigger as "a cross
between Satan and a woodtick." The little insects lay their eggs
between the skin and flesh. When the young hatch out, they begin
feeding on the blood, and quickly grow half an inch long and cause an
intense itching. My feet were swollen so much that I could not get on
my riding-boots, and, consequently, my lower limbs were more exposed
than ever. If not soon cut out, the flesh around them begins to rot,
and mortification sometimes ensues.

On some of the savannas we were able to kill deer and ostrich, but they
generally were very scarce. Our fare was varied; sometimes we feaisted
on parrot pie or vultures eggs; again we lay down on the hard, stony
ground supperless. At such times I would be compelled to rise from time
to time and tighten up my belt, until I must have resembled one of the
ladies of fashion, so far as the waist was concerned. Again we came to
marshy ground, filled with royal duck, teal, water-hens, snipe, etc,
and forgot the pangs of past hunger. At such places we would fill our
horns and drink the putrid water, or take off our shirts and wash them
and our bodies. Mud had to serve for soap. Our washing, spread out on
the reeds, would soon dry, and off we would start for another stage.

The unpeopled state of the country was a constant wonder to me;
generations have disappeared without leaving a trace of their
existence. Sometimes I stopped to admire the pure white water-lilies
growing on stagnant black water, or the lovely Victoria Regia, the leaf
of which is at times so large as to weigh ten pounds. The flowers have
white petals, tinted with rose, and the centre is a deep violet. Their
weight is between two and three pounds.

Wherever we camped we lit immense fires of brushwood, and generally
slept peacefully, but with loaded rifle at arm's length.

A portion of land which I rode over while in that district must have
been just a thin crust covering a mighty cave. The horses' footfalls
made hollow sounds, and when the thin roof shook I half expected to be
precipitated into unknown depths.

After many weeks of varied experiences we arrived at or near the land I
was seeking. There, on the banks of a river, we struck camp, and from
there I made short excursions in all directions in order to ascertain
the approximate value of the old gentleman's estate. On the land we
came upon an encampment of poor, half or wholly naked Caingwa Indians.
By them we were kindly received, and found that, notwithstanding their
extremely sunken condition and abject poverty, they seemed to have
mandioca and bananas in abundance. In return for a few knives and
beads, I was able to purchase quite a stock. Seeing that all the
dishes, plates, and bottles they have grow in the form of gourds, they
imagine all such things we use also grow. It was amusing to hear them
ask for _seeds of the glass medicine bottles_ I carried with me.

A drum, ingeniously made by stretching a serpent's skin over a large
calabash, was monotonously beaten as our good-night lullaby when we
stretched ourselves out on the grass.

The Caingwa men all had their lower lip pierced, and hanging down over
the breast was a thin stick about ten inches long. Their faces were
also painted in strange patterns.

Learning from their chief that the royal tribe to which they originally
belonged lived away in the depths of the forest to the east, some moons
distant, I became curious. After repeated enquiries I was told that a
king ruled the people there, and that they daily worshipped the sun.
Hearing of these sun-worshippers, I determined, if possible, to push on
thither. The old chief himself offered to direct us if, in return, I
would give him a shirt, a knife, and a number of white beads. The
bargain was struck, and arrangements were made to start off at sunrise
next day, My commission was not only to see the old gentleman's land,
but to visit the surrounding Indians, with a view to missionary work
being commenced among them.

The morning dawned clear and propitious, but the chief had decided not
to go. On enquiring the reason for the change of mind, I discovered
that his people had been telling him that I only wanted to get him into
the forest in order to kill him, and that I would not give him the
promised shirt and beads. I thought that it was much more likely for
him to kill me than I him, and I set his mind at rest about the reward,
for on the spot I gave him the coveted articles. On receipt of those
luxuries his doubts of me fled, and I soon assured him that I had no
intention whatever of taking his life. Towards noon we started off,
and, winding our way through the Indian paths in single file, we again
soon left behind us all signs of man, and saw nothing to mark that any
had passed that way before.

That night, as we sat under a large silk-cotton tree silently eating
supper off plates of palm leaves, the old chief suddenly threw down his
meat, and, with a startled expression, said, "I hear spirits!" Never
having heard such ethereal visitors myself, I smiled incredulously,
whereupon the old savage glared at me, and, leaving his food upon the
ground went away out of the firelight into the darkness. Afraid that he
might take one of the horses and return to his people, I followed to
soothe him, but his offended mood did not pass until, as he said, the
_spirits_ had gone.

On the third day scarcity of water began to be felt. We had been slowly
ascending the rugged steeps of a mountain, and as the day wore on the
thirst grew painful. That night both we and the horses had to be
content with the dew-drops we sucked from the grass, and our dumb
companions showed signs of great exhaustion. The Indian assured me that
if we could push on we would, by next evening, come to a beautiful lake
in the mountains: so, ere the sun rose next morning, we were in the
saddle on our journey to the coveted water.

All that day we plodded along painfully, silently. Our lips were dried
together, and our tongues swollen. Thirst hurts! The horses hung their
heads and ears, and we were compelled to dismount and go afoot. The
poor creatures were getting so thin that our weight seemed to crush
them to the earth. The sun again set, darkness fell, and the lake was,
for all I could see, a dream of the chief, our guide. At night, after
repeating the sucking of the dew, we ate a little, drank the blood of
an animal, and tried to sleep. The patient horses stood beside us with
closed eyes and bowed heads, until the sight was more than I could
bear. Fortunately, a very heavy dew fell, which greatly helped us, and
two hours before sunrise next morning the loads were equally
distributed on the backs of the seven horses and we started off once
again through the mist for water! water! When the sun illuminated the
heavens and lit up the rugged peaks of the strangely shaped mountains
ahead of us, hope was revived. We sucked the fruit of the date palm,
and in imagination bathed and wallowed in the water--beautiful
water--we so soon expected to behold. The poor horses, however, not
buoyed up with sweet hopes as we were, gave out, one after the other,
and we were compelled to cruelly urge them on up the steep. With it
all, I had to leave two of the weaker ones behind, purposing, if God
should in kindness permit us to reach water, to return and save them.

That afternoon the Indian chief, who, though an old man, had shown
wonderful fortitude and endurance, and still led the way, shouted:
"_Eyoape! Eyoape!_" (Come! Come!) We were near the lake. With new-born
strength I left all and ran, broke through the brushwood of the shore,
jumped into the lake, and found--nothing but hard earth! The lake was
dried up! I dug my heel into the ground to see if below the surface
there might be soft mud, but failing to find even that, I dropped over
with the world dancing in distorted visions before my eyes. More I
cannot relate.

How long I lay there I never knew. The Indian, I learned later,
exploring a deep gully at the other side, found a putrid pool of slime,
full of poisonous frogs and alive with insects. Some of this liquid he
brought to me in his hands, and, after putting it in my mouth, had the
satisfaction of seeing me revive. I dimly remember that my next act was
to crawl towards the water-hole he guided me to. In this I lay and
drank. I suppose it soaked into my system as rain in the earth after a
drought. That stagnant pool was our salvation. The horses were brought
up, and we drank, and drank again. Not until our thirst was slaked did
we fully realize how the water stank! When the men were sufficiently
refreshed they returned for the abandoned horses, which were found
still alive. Had they scented water somewhere and drank? At the foot of
the mountains, on the other side, we later discovered much better
water, and there we camped, our horses revelling in the abundant
pasturage.

After this rest we continued our journey, and next day came to the edge
of a virgin forest. Through that, the chief said, we must cut our way,
for the royal tribe never came out, and were never visited. Close to
the edge of the forest was a deep precipice, at the bottom of which we
could discern a silvery streak of clear water. From there we must
procure the precious fluid for ourselves and horses. Taking our kettle
and horns, we sought the best point to descend, and after considerable
difficulty, clinging to the branches of the overhanging trees and the
dense undergrowth, we reached the bottom. After slaking our thirst we
ascended with filled horns and kettle to water the horses. As may be
supposed, this was a tedious task, and the descent had to be made many
times before the horses were satisfied. My hat served for watering pail.

Next morning the same process was repeated, and then the men, each with
long _machetes_ I had provided, set to work to cut a path through the
forest, and Old Stabbed Arm went off in search of game. After a two
hours' hunt, a fat ostrich fell before his rifle, and he returned to
camp. We still had a little chipa, which had by this time become as
hard as stone, but which I jealously guarded to use only in case of the
greatest emergency. At times we had been very hungry, but my order was
that it should not be touched.

Only the reader who has seen the virgin forest, with its interlacing
_lianas_, thick as a man's leg--the thorns six inches long and sharp as
needles--can form an idea of the task before us. As we penetrated
farther and farther in the _selva_, the darkness became deeper and
deeper. Giant trees reared their heads one hundred and fifty feet into
the heavens, and beautiful palms, with slender trunks and delicate,
feathery leaves, waved over us. The medicinal plants were represented
by sarsaparilla and many others equally valuable. There was the cocoa
palm, the date palm, and the cabbage palm, the latter of which
furnished us good food, while the wine tree afforded an excellent and
cooling drink. In parts all was covered with beautiful pendant
air-flowers, gorgeous with all the colors of the rainbow. Monkeys
chattered and parrots screamed, but otherwise there was a sombre
stillness. The exhalations from the depth of rotting leaves and the
decaying fallen wood rendered the steamy atmosphere most poisonous.
Truly, the flora was magnificent, and the fauna, represented by the
spotted jaguar, whose roar at times broke the awful quiet of the night,
was equally grand.

As the chief, ignorant of hours and miles, could not tell me the extent
of the forest, I determined to let him and Timoteo make their way
through as best they could, crawling through the branches, to the
Sun-Worshippers, and secure their help in cutting a way for the horses.
After dividing the food I had, we separated. Timoteo and the Indian
crept into the forest and were soon lost sight of, while Old Stabbed
Arm and I, with the horses, retraced our steps, and reached the open
land again. After an earnest conversation my companion shouldered his
rifle and went off to hunt, and I was left with only the companionship
of the grazing horses. I remained behind to water the animals, and
protect our goods from any prowling savage who might chance to be in
the neighborhood. My saddle-bed was spread under a large _burning
bush_, or incense tree, and my self-imposed duty was to keep a fire
burning in the open, that its smoke might be seen by day and its light
by night.

Going exploring a little, I discovered a much better descent down the
precipice, and water was more easily brought up. Indeed, I decided
that, if a certain deep chasm were bridged over, it might be possible
to get the horses themselves to descend by a winding way. With this
object in view I felled saplings near the place, and in a few hours
constructed a rough bridge, strong enough to bear a horse's weight.
Whether the animals could smell the water flowing at the bottom, or
were more agile than I had thought, I cannot tell, but they descended
the almost perpendicular path most wonderfully, and soon were taking
draughts of the precious liquid with great gusto. Leaving the horses to
enjoy their drink, I ascended the stream for some distance, in order to
discover, if possible, where the flow came from. Judge of my surprise
when I found that the water ran out of a grotto, or cavern, in the face
of the cliff-out of the unknown darkness into the sunlight! Walking up
the bed of the stream, I entered the cave, and, striking a few matches,
found it to be inhabited by hundreds of vampire bats, which were
hanging from the sides and stalactites of the roof, like so many damp,
black rags. On my entrance the unearthly creatures were disturbed, and
many came flying in my face, so I made a quick exit. Several which I
killed came floating down the stream with me; one that I measured
proved to be twenty-two inches across the wings. My exploration had
discovered the secret of the clots of blood we had been finding on the
horses' necks every morning. The vampire-bats, in their nightly
flights, had been sucking the life-blood of our poor, already starving
animals! It is said these loathsome creatures--half beast, half
bird--fan their victim to sleep while they drain out the red blood.
Provided with palm torches, I again entered the cavern, but could not
penetrate its depths; it seemed to go right into the bowels of the
mountain. Exploring down stream was more successful, for large
flamingoes and wild ducks and geese were found in plenty.

That night I carefully staked out the horses all around the camp-fire
and lay down to think and sleep and dream. Old Stabbed Arm had not
returned, and I was alone with nature. Several times I rose to see if
the horses were securely tied, and to kill any bats I might find
disturbing them. Rising in the grey dawn, I watered the horses, cooked
a piece of ostrich meat, and started off on foot for a short distance
to explore the country to the north, where I saw many indications that
tapirs were numerous. My first sight of this peculiar animal of
Paraguay I shall never forget. It resembles no other beast I have ever
seen, but seems half elephant, with its muzzle like a short trunk. In
size it is about six feet long and three and a half feet high. There
were also ant-bears, peculiar animals, without teeth, but provided with
a rough tongue to lick up the ants. The length of this animal is about
four feet, but the thick tail is longer than the body. Whereas the
tapir has a hog-like skin, the ant-bear has long, bristly hairs.

Returning to camp, judge of my surprise when I found it in possession
of two savages of strange appearance. My first thought was that I had
lost all, but, drawing nearer, I discovered that Timoteo and the chief
were also there, squatting on the ground, devouring the remains of my
breakfast. They had returned from the royal tribe, who had offered to
cut a way from their side, and these two strangers were to assist us.

With this additional help we again penetrated the forest. The men cut
with a will, and I drove the horses after them. Black, howling monkeys,
with long beards and grave countenances, leapt among the trees. Red and
blue macaws screeched overhead, and many a large serpent received its
death-blow from our machetes. Sometimes we were fortunate enough to
secure a bees' nest full of honey, or find luscious fruit. At times I
stopped to admire a giant tree, eight or ten feet in diameter, or
orchids of the most delicate hues, but the passage was hard and trying,
and the stagnant air most difficult to breathe. The fallen tree-trunks,
over which we had to step, or go around or under, were very numerous,
and sometimes we landed in a bed, not of roses, but of thorns. Sloths
and strange birds' nests hung from the trees, while the mosquitos and
insects made life almost unendurable. We were covered with carapatas,
bruised and torn, and almost eaten up alive with insects.


[Illustration: PARAGUAYAN FOREST INDIAN. These dwarf men use a very
long bow, while the Patagonian uses a short one]


Under the spreading branches of one of the largest trees we came upon
an abandoned Indian camp. This, I was told, had belonged to the "little
men of the woods," hairy dwarfs, a few of whom inhabit the depths of
the forest, and kill their game with blow-pipes. Of course we saw none
of the poor creatures. Their scent is as keen as an animal's; they are
agile as monkeys, and make off to hide in the hollow trunks of trees,
or bury themselves in the decaying vegetation until danger is past.
Poor pigmy! What place will he occupy in the life that is to be?




CHAPTER X.

WE REACH THE SUN-WORSHIPPERS.


After some days' journey we heard shouts, and knew that, like entombed
miners, we were being dug out on the other side! The Caingwas soon met
us, and I looked into their faces and gravely saluted. They stared at
me in speechless astonishment, and I as curiously regarded them. Each
man had his lower lip pierced and wore the _barbote_ I have described,
with the difference that these were made of gum.

With a clear path before us we now made better progress, and before
long emerged from the living tomb, but the memory of it will ever
remain a nightmare.

We found a crowd of excited Indians, young and old, awaiting us. Many
of the females ran like frightened deer on catching sight of me, but an
old man, whom I afterwards learned was the _High Priest_ of the tribe,
came and asked my business. Assuring him, through Timoteo, that my
mission was peaceable, and that I had presents for them, he gave me
permission to enter into the glade, where I was told _Nandeyara_
[Footnote: "Our Owner," the most beautiful word for God I have ever
heard.] had placed them at the beginning of the world. Had I discovered
the _Garden of Eden_, the place from which man had been wandering for
6,000 years? I was conducted by Rocanandiva (the high priest) down a
steep path to the valley, where we came in view of several large
peculiarly shaped houses, built of bamboo. Near these dwellings were
perhaps a hundred men, women and children, remnants of a vanishing
nation. Some had a mat around their loins, but many were naked. All the
males had the _barbote_ in the lip, and had exceptionally thick hair,
matted with grease and mud. Most of them had a repellant look on their
pigment-painted faces, and I could very distinctly see that I was not a
welcome visitor. No, I had not reached Eden! Only "beyond the clouds
and beyond the tomb" would the bowers of Eden be discovered to me.
Hearing domestic hens cackling around the houses, I bade Timoteo tell
the priest that we were very hungry, and that if he killed two chickens
for us I would give him a beautiful gift later on. The priest
distinctly informed me, however, that I must give first, or no fowl
would be killed. From that decision I tried to move him, urging that I
was tired, the pack was hard to undo, and to-morrow, when I was rested,
I would well repay them the kindness. My words were thrown away; not a
bite should we eat until the promised knife was given. I was faint with
hunger, but from the load on the packhorse I procured the knife, which
I handed to my unwilling host with the promise of other gifts later. On
receipt of this treasure he gave orders to the boys standing off at a
distance to catch two chickens. The birds were knocked over by the
stones thrown at them. Two women now came forward with clay pots on
their heads and fire-sticks in their hands, and they superintended the
cooking. Without cutting off either heads or legs, or pulling out the
birds' feathers, the chickens were placed in the pots with water. Lying
down near the fire, I, manlike, impatiently waited for supper. Perhaps
a minute had dragged its weary length along when I picked up a stick
from the ground and poked one of the fowls out of the water, which was
not yet warm. Holding the bird in one hand, and pulling feathers out of
my mouth with the other, I ate as my forefathers did ages ago. Years
before this I had learned that a hungry man can eat what an epicure
despises. After this feast I lay down on the ground behind one of the
tepees, and, with my head resting on my most valued possessions, went
to sleep.

Having promised to give the priest and his wife another present, I was
awakened very early next morning. They had come for their gifts. Rising
from my hard bed, I stretched myself and awoke my servant, under whose
head were the looking-glasses. I presented one of these to the woman,
who looked in it with satisfaction and evident pleasure. Whether she
was pleased with her reflection or with the glass I cannot tell, but I
feel sure it must have been the latter! A necklace to the daughter and
a further gift to the old man gained their friendship, and food was
brought to us. After partaking of this I was informed that the king
desired to see me, and that I must proceed at once to his hut.

His majesty (?) lived on the other side of the river, close at hand.
This water was of course unbridged, so, in order to cross, I was
compelled to divest myself of my clothing and walk through it in
nature's garb. The water came up to my breast, and once I thought the
clothes I carried on my head would get wet. Dressing on the other side,
I presented myself at the king's abode. There I was kindly received,
being invited to take up my quarters with him and his royal family. The
king was a tall man of somewhat commanding appearance, but, save for
the loin cloth, he was naked, like the rest. The queen, a little woman,
was as scantily dressed as her husband. She was very shy, and I noticed
the rest of the inmates of the hut peeping through the crevices of the
corn-stalk partition of an inner room. After placing around the shapely
neck of the queen a specially fine necklace I had brought, and giving
the king a large hunting-knife, I was regaled with roasted yams, and
later on with a whole watermelon.

Timoteo, my servant, whose native language was Guarani, could
understand most of the idiom of the Sun Worshippers, which we found to
be similar to that spoken by the civilized inhabitants of the country.
There must therefore have been some connection between the two peoples
at one time. The questions, "Where have you come from?" "Why have you
come?" were asked and answered, and I, in return, learned much of this
strange tribe. Mate was served, but whereas in the outside world a
rusty tin tube to suck it through is in possession of even the poorest,
here they used only a reed. I was astonished to find the mate
sweetened. Knowing that they could not possibly have any of the
luxuries of civilization, I made enquiries regarding this, and was told
that they used a herb which grew in the valley, to which they gave the
name of _ca-ha he-he_ (sweet herb). This plant, which is not unlike
clover, is sweet as sugar, whether eaten green or in a dried state.

There was not a seat of any description in the hut, but the king said,
"_Eguapu_" ("Sit down"), so I squatted on the earthen floor. A broom is
not to be found in the kingdom, and the house had never been swept!

A curiosity I noticed was the calabash which the king carried attached
to his belt. This relic was regarded with great reverence, and at first
His Majesty declined to reveal its character; but after I had won his
confidence by gifts of beads and mirrors, he became more communicative.
One day, in a burst of pride, he told me that the gourd contained the
ashes of his ancestors, who were the ancient kings. Though the
Spaniards sought to carefully rout out and destroy all direct
descendants of the royal family of the Incas, their historians tell us
that some remote connections escaped. The Indians of Peru have legends
to the effect that at the time of the Spanish invasion an Inca
chieftain led an emigration of his people down the mountains. Humboldt,
writing in the 18th century, said: "It is interesting to inquire
whether any other princes of the family of Manco Capac have remained in
the forests; and if there still exist any of the Incas of Peru in other
places." Had I discovered some descendants of this vanished race? The
Montreal _Journal_, commenting on my discovery, said: "The question is
of extreme interest to the scientific enquirer, even if they are not
what Mr. Ray thinks them."

The royal family consisted of the parents, a son and his wife, a
daughter and her husband, and two younger girls. I was invited to sleep
in the inner room, which the parents occupied, and the two married
couples remained in the common room. All slept in fibre hammocks, made
greasy and black by the smoke from the fire burning on the floor in the
centre of the room. No chimney, window, door, or article of furniture
graced the house.

"The court of the Incas rivalled that of Rome, Jerusalem, or any of the
old Oriental countries, in riches and show, the palaces being decorated
with a great profusion of gold, silver, fine cloth and precious
stones." [Footnote: Rev. Thomas Wood, LL.D., Lima, Peru, In "Protestant
Missions in South America."]

An ancient Spanish writer who measured some of the stones of the Incan
palace at Cuzco tells us there were stones so nicely adjusted that it
was impossible to introduce even the blade of a knife between them, and
that some of those stones were thirty-eight feet long, by eighteen feet
broad, and six feet thick. What a descent for the "Children of the
Sun"! "How are the mighty fallen!" Thoughts of the past and the mean
present passed through my mind as I lay down in the dust of the earthen
floor that first night of my stay with the king.

Owing to the thousands of fleas in the dust of the room it was hard for
me to rest much, and that night a storm brewing made sleep almost
impossible. As the thunder pealed forth all the Indians of the houses
hastily got out of their hammocks and grasped gourd rattles and
beautifully woven cotton banners. The rattles were shaken
 and the banners waved, while a droning chant was struck up by the
high priest, and the louder the thunder rolled the louder their voices
rose and the more lustily they shook the seeds in their calabashes.
They were trying to appease the dread deity of Thunder, as did their
Inca ancestors. The voice of the old priest led the worship, and for
_four hours_ there was no cessation of the monotonous song, except when
he performed some mystic ceremony which I understood not.

Just as the old priest had awakened me the first morning to ask for his
present, so the king came tapping me gently the second. In his hand he
had a large sweet potato, and in my half-dreamy state I heard him
saying, "Give me your coat. Eat a potato?" The change I thought was
greatly to his advantage, but I was anxious to please him. I possessed
two coats, while he was, as he said, a poor old man, and had no coat.
The barter was concluded; I ate the potato, and he, with strange
grimaces, donned a coat for the first time in his life. Think of this
for an alleged descendant of the great Atahuallpa, whose robes and
jewels were priceless!

I offered to give the queen a feminine garment of white cotton if she
would wear it, but this I could not prevail upon her to do; it was
"ugly." As a loin-cloth, she would use it, but put it on--no! In the
latter savage style the shaped garment was thereafter worn. Women have
_fashions_ all over the globe.

The few inches of clothing worn by the Caingwa women are never washed,
and the only attempt at cleansing the body I saw when among them was
that of a woman who filled her mouth with water and squirted it back on
her hands, which she then wiped on her loin-cloth!

Prescott, writing of the Incas, says: "They loved to indulge in the
luxury of their baths, replenished by streams of crystal water which
were conducted through subterraneous silver channels into basins of
gold."

The shapely little mouth of the queen was spoilt by the habit she had
of smoking a _heavy_ pipe made of red clay. I was struck with the
weight and shape of this, for it exactly resembled those made by the
old cliff-dwellers, unknown centuries ago. One will weigh at least a
quarter of a pound. For a mouth-piece they use a bird's quill. The
tobacco they grow themselves.

Near the royal abode were the kitchen gardens. A tract of forest had
been fired, and this clearing planted with bananas, mandioca, sweet
potatoes, etc. The blackened trunks of the trees rose up like so many
evil spirits above the green foliage. The garden implements used were
of the most primitive description; a crooked stick served for hoe, and
long, heavy, sharpened iron-wood clubs were used instead of the steel
plough of civilization.

As I have already remarked, I found the people were sun-worshippers.
Each morning, just as the rising sun lit up the eastern sky, young and
old came out of their houses, the older ones carrying empty gourds with
the dry seeds inside. At a signal from the high priest, a solemn
droning chant was struck up, to the monotonous time kept by the
numerous gourd rattles. As the sun rose higher and higher, the chanting
grew louder and louder, and the echoes of _"He! he! he! ha! ha! ha!
laima! laima!"_ were repeated by the distant hills. When the altar of
incense (described later) was illuminated by the sun-god, the chanting
ceased.

After this solemn worship of the Orb of Day, the women, with quiet
demeanor and in single file, went off to their work in the gardens. On
returning, each carried a basket made of light canes, slung on the back
and held up by plaited fibres forming a band which came across their
foreheads. The baskets contained the day's vegetables. Meat was seldom
eaten by them, but this was probably because of its scarcity, for when
we killed an ostrich they clamored for a share. Reptiles of all kinds,
and even caterpillars, are devoured by them when hungry.

The Caingwas are under the average height, but use the longest bows and
arrows I have ever seen. Some I brought away measure nearly seven feet
in length. The points are made of sharpened iron-wood, notched like the
back of a fish-hook, and they are poisoned with serpent venom. Besides
these weapons, it was certainly strange to find them living in the
_stone age_, for in the hands of the older members of the tribe were to
be seen stone axes. The handles of these primitive weapons are scraped
into shape by flints, as probably our savage forefathers in Britain did
theirs two thousand years ago.

Entering the low, narrow doorway of one of the bamboo frame houses, I
saw that it was divided into ten-foot squares by corn-stalk partitions
a yard high. These places, like so many stalls for horses, run down
each side of the _hoga_. One family occupies a division, sleeping in
net hammocks made of long, coarse grass. A "family man" usually has
bands of human hair twisted around his legs below the knees, and also
around the wrists. This hair is torn from his wife's head. Down the
centre are numerous fires for cooking purposes, but the house was
destitute of chimney. Wood is burned, and the place was at times so
full of smoke that I could not distinguish one Indian from another.
Fortunately, the walls of the house, as was also the roof, were in bad
repair, and some of the smoke escaped through the chinks. Sixty people
lived in the largest hoga, and I judged the number of the whole tribe
to be about three hundred.

The doorways of all the houses faced towards the east, as did those of
the Inca. In the principal one, where the high priest lived, a square
altar of red clay was erected. I quickly noticed that on this
elevation, which was about a yard high, there burned a very carefully
tended fire of holy wood. Enquiring the meaning of this, I was informed
that, very many moons ago, Nande-yara had come in person to visit the
tribe, and when with them had lit the fire, which, he said, they must
not under any circumstances suffer to die out. Ever since then the
smoke of the incense had ascended to their "Owner" in his far-off
dwelling.

How forcibly was I reminded of the scripture referring to the Jewish
altar of long ago, "There the fire shall ever be burning upon the
altar; it shall never go out." If I had not discovered Eden, I had at
least found the altar and fire of Edenic origin.

Behind the altar, occupying the stall directly opposite the doorway,
stood the tribal god. As the Caingwas are sun-worshippers, I was
surprised to see this, but Rocanandivia, with grave demeanor, told me
that when Nandeyara departed from them he left behind him his
representative. In the chapter on Mariolatry, I have traced the natural
tendency of man to sink from spiritual to image worship, and I found
that the Caingwas, like all pagans, had reverted to a something they
could see and feel. Remembering that they had never heard the second
commandment, written by God because of this failing in man, we can
excuse them, but what shall be said of the enlightened Romanists?

Being exceedingly anxious to procure their "Copy of God," I tried to
bargain with the priest. I offered him one thing and another, but to
all my proposals he turned a deaf ear, and finally, glaring at me, said
that _nothing_ would ever induce him to part with it. The people would
never allow the image to be taken away, as the life of the tribe was
bound up with it Seeing that he was not to be moved, I desisted, though
a covetous look in his eye when I offered a beautiful  rug in
exchange gave me hope, Rocanandiva was, like most idolatrous priests,
very fanatical. When he learned that I professed and taught a different
religion, his jealousy was most marked, and he often told me to go from
them, I was not wanted. Living with the king, however, saved me from
ejection.

One day the priest, ever on the beg, was anxious to obtain some article
from me, and I determined to give it only on one condition. Being
anxious to tell the people the story of Jesus, I had repeatedly asked
permission of him, but had been as often repulsed. They did not want
_me_, or any new "words," he would reply. Turning to him now, I said,
"Rocanandiva, if you will allow me to tell 'words' to the people you
shall have the present." The priest turned on his heel and left me.
Knowing his cupidity, I was not surprised when, later, he came to me
and said that I could tell them _words_, and held out his hand for the
gift.

After sun-worship next morning the king announced that I had something
new to tell them. When all were seated on the ground in wondering
silence, I began in simple language to tell "the old, old story." My
address was somewhat similar to the following: "Many moons ago,
Nandeyara, looking down from his abode, saw that all the men and women
and children in the world were bad; that is, they had done wrong
things, such as . . . Now God has a Son, and to Him He said, Look down
and see. All are doing wicked things! He looked and saw. The Father
said that for their sin they should have to die, but that Jesus, His
Son, could come down and die in their place. The Son came, and lived on
earth many moons; but was hated, and at last caught, and large pieces
of iron (like the priest's knife) were put into His hands and feet, and
He was fastened to a tree. After this a man came, and, with a very long
knife, brought the blood out of the side of Jesus, and He died."
Purposing to further explain my story, I was not pleased when the
priest stopped me, and, stepping forth, told the people that my account
was not true. He then in eloquent tones related to them what he called
the _real story_, to which I listened in amazed wonder.

"Many moons ago," he began, "we were dying of hunger! One day the Sun,
our god, changed into a man, and he walked down _that_ road." (Here he
pointed to the east.) "The chief met him. 'All your people are dying of
hunger,' said god. 'Yes, they are,' the chief replied. 'Will you die
instead of all the people?' Nandeyara said. 'Yes, I will,' the chief
answered. He immediately dropped down dead, and god came to the village
where we all are now. 'Your chief is lying dead up the road,' he said,
'go and bury him, and after three days are passed visit the grave, when
you will find a plant growing out of
 his mouth; that will be corn, and it will save you!'" Then, turning
to me, the priest said: "This we did, and behold us alive! That is the
story!" A strange legend, surely, and yet the reader will be struck
with the grains of truth intermingled--life, resulting from the
sacrificial death of another; the substitution of the one for the many;
the life-giving seed germinating after _three days' burial_, reminding
one of John 12:24: "Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and
die, it abideth alone; but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit."
Strange that so many aboriginal people have legends so near the truth.

Some days later the chiefs son and I were alone, and I saw that
something troubled him. He tried to tell me, but I was somewhat
ignorant of his language, so, after looking in all directions to see
that we were really alone, he led the way into a dark corner of the
hoga, where we were. There, from under a pile of garden baskets,
calabashes, etc., he brought out a peculiarly-shaped gourd, full of
some red, powdery substance. This, with trembling haste, he put into my
hand, and seemed greatly relieved when I had it securely. Going then to
the corner where I kept my goods, he took up a box of matches and made
signs for me to exchange, which I did. When Timoteo returned I learned
that the young man was custodian of the devil--the only and original
one--and that he had palmed him off on me for a box of matches! How the
superstition of the visible presence of the devil originated I have no
idea, but there might be some meaning in the man's earnest desire to
exchange it for matches, or lights, the emblem of their fire or
sun-worship. Was this simple deal fallen man's feeble effort to rid
himself of the _Usurper_ and get back the _Father_, for it is very
significant that the Caingwa word, _ta-ta_ (light), signifies also
father. Do they need light, or are they sufficiently illumined for time
and eternity? Will the reader reverently stand with me, in imagination,
beside an Indian grave? A girl has died through snake poisoning. A
shallow grave has been dug for her remains. Into this hole her body has
been dropped, uncoffined, in a sitting position. Beside the body is
placed some food and a few paltry trinkets, and the people stand around
with that disconsolate look which is only seen upon the faces of those
who know not the Father. As they thus linger, the witch-doctor asks,
"Is the dog killed?" Someone replies, "Yes, the dog is killed." "Is the
head cut off?" is then asked. "Yes, the head is off," is the reply.
"Put it in the grave, then," says the medicine man; and then the dog's
head is dropped at the girl's feet.

Why do they do this? you ask. Question their _wise man_, and he will
say: "A dog is a very clever animal. He can always find his way. A girl
gets lost when alone. For that reason we place a dog's head with her,
that it may guide her in the spirit life." I ask again, "Do they need
missionaries?"

My stay with the sun-worshippers, though interesting, was painful.
Excepting when we cooked our own food, I almost starved. Their habits
are extremely filthy, indeed more loathsome and disgusting than I dare
relate.

My horses were by now refreshed with their rest, and appeared able for
the return journey, so I determined to start back to civilization. The
priest heard of my decision with unfeigned joy, but the king and queen
were sorrowful. These pressed me to return again some time, but said I
must bring with me a _boca_ (gun) like my own for the king, with some
more strings of white beads for the queen's wrists.

While saddling our horses in the grey dawn, the wily priest came to me
with a bundle, and, quietly drawing me aside, said that Nandeyara was
inside, and in exchange for the bright rug I could take him away. The
exchange was made, and I tied their god, along with bows and arrows,
etc., on the back of a horse, and we said farewell. I had strict orders
to cover up the idol from the eyes of the people until we got away.
Even when miles distant, I kept looking back, fearing that the duped
Indians were following in enraged numbers. Of course, the priest would
give out that I had _stolen_ the image.

Ah, Rocanandiva, you are not the first who has been willing to sell his
god for worldly gain! The hand of Judas burned with "thirty pieces of
silver," the earthly value of the Divine One. Pilate, for personal
profit, said: "Let Him be crucified." And millions to-day sell Him for
"a mess of pottage."

The same horse bore away the _devil_ and _god_, so perhaps without the
one there would be no need of the other.

So prolific is the vegetation that during our few weeks' stay with the
Indians the creeping thorns and briars had almost covered up the path
we had cut through the forest, and it was again necessary to use our
machetes. The larger growth, however, being down, this was not
difficult, and we entered its sombre stillness once more. What strange
creatures people its tangled recesses we knew not.

     "For beasts and birds have seen and heard
     That which man knoweth not."

I hurried through with little wish to penetrate its secret. Mere
existence was hard enough in its steaming semi-darkness. Our clothes
were now almost torn to shreds (I had sought to mend mine with
horse-hair thread, with poor results), and we duly emerged into
daylight on the other side, ragged, torn and dirty.

Our journey back to civilization was similar to the outward way. We
selected a slightly different route, but left the old chief safe and
well with his people.

One night our horses were startled by a bounding jaguar, and were so
terrified that they broke away and scattered in all directions.
Searching for them detained us a whole day, but fortunately we were
able to round them all up again. Two were found in a wood of
strangely-shaped bushes, whose large, tough leaves rustled like
parchment.

One afternoon a heavy rain came on, and we stopped to construct a
shelter of green branches, into which we crept. The downpour became so
heavy that it dripped through our hastily-constructed arbor, and we
were soon soaking wet. Owing to the dampness of the fuel, it was only
after much patient work that we were able to light a fire and dry our
clothes. There we remained for three days, Timoteo sighing for
Pegwaomi, and the wind sighing still louder, to our discomfort.
Everything we had was saturated. Sleeping on the soaking ground, the
poisonous tarantula spiders crept over us. These loathsome creatures,
second only to the serpent, are frequently so large as to spread their
thick, hairy legs over a six-inch diameter.

The storm passed, and we started off towards the river Ipane, which was
now considerably swollen. Three times on the expedition we had halted
to build rough bridges over chasms or mountain streams with
perpendicular banks, but this was broad and had to be crossed through
the water. As I rode the largest and strongest horse, it was my place
to venture first into the rushing stream. The animal bravely stemmed
the current, as did the rest, but Old Stabbed Arm, riding a weaker
horse, nearly lost his life. The animal was washed down by the strong
current, and but for the man's previous long experience in swimming
rivers he would never have reached the bank. The pony also somehow
struggled through to the side, landing half-drowned, and Old Stabbed
Arm received a few hearty pats on the back. The load on the mare was
further soaked, but most of our possessions had been ruined long ago.
My cartridges I had slung around my neck, and I held the photographic
plates in my teeth, while the left hand carried my gun, so these were
preserved. To my care on that occasion the reader is indebted for some
of the illustrations in this volume. Nandeyara got another wash, but he
had been wet before, and never complained!

On the farther side of the river was a deserted house, and we could
distinctly trace the heavy footprints of a tapir leading up the path
and through the open doorway. We entered with caution. Was the beast in
then? No. He had gone out by a back way, probably made by himself,
through the wattled wall. We could see the place was frequented very
often by wild pigs, which had left hundreds of footprints in the
three-inch depth of dust on the floor. There we lit a fire to again dry
our clothes, and prepared to pass the night, expecting a visit from the
hogs. Had they appeared when we were ready for them, the visit would
not have been unwelcome. Food was hard to procure, and animals did not
come very often to be shot. Had they found us asleep, however, the
waking would have been terrible indeed, for they will eat human flesh
just as ravenously as roots. After spreading our saddle-cloths on the
dust and filth, Old Stabbed Arm and I were chatting about the Caingwas
and their dirty habits, when Timoteo, heaving a sigh of relief, said:
"Thank God, we are clean at last!" He was satisfied with the pigpen as
he recalled the _hoga_ of the Sun-Worshippers.

 At last the village of Pegwaomi was reached, and, oh, we were not
sorry, for the havoc of the jiggers in our feet was getting terrible!
The keen-eyed inhabitants caught sight of us while we were still
distant, and when we reined up, Timoteo's aged mother tremblingly said,
"_Yoape_" ("Come here") to him, and she wept as she embraced her boy.
Truly, there was no sight so sweet to "mother" as that of her ragged,
travel-stained son; and Timoteo, the strong man, wept. The fatted calf
was then killed a few yards from the doorstep, by having its throat
cut. Offal littered up the doorway, and the children in their glee
danced in the red blood. The dogs' tails and the women's tongues wagged
merrily, making us feel that we were joined on to the world again. I
was surprised to find that we were days out of reckoning; I had been
keeping Sunday on Thursday!

During this stay at Pegwaomi I nearly lost Old Stabbed Arm. The day
after we returned our hostess very seriously asked me if he might marry
her daughter. Thinking he had sent her to ask, I consented. It was a
surprise to learn afterwards that he knew nothing at all of the matter.

Although Pegwaomi gained no new inhabitant, I secured what proved to be
one of the truest and most faithful friends of my life--a little
monkey. His name was Mr. Pancho. With him it was love at first sight,
and from that time onward, I believe, he had only two things in his
mind--his food and his master. He would cry when I left him, and hug
and kiss me on my return. Pancho rode the pack-mare into the village of
Concepcion, and busied himself on the way catching butterflies and
trying to grasp the multi- humming-birds hovering over the
equally beautiful passion-flowers growing in the bushes on each side of
the path.

Surely a stranger sight was never seen on the streets of Concepcion
than that of a tired, dusty pack-horse bearing a live monkey, a dead
god, and an equally dead devil on his back! Mrs. Sorrows was overjoyed
to see me return, and earnestly told me that my first duty was to hurry
down to the store and buy two  candles to burn before her saint,
who had brought me back, even though I was a heretic, which fact she
greatly lamented. We had been given up as lost months before, for word
came down that I had been killed by Indians. Here I was, however, safe
and fairly well, saving that the ends of two of my toes had rotted off
with jiggers, and fever burned in my veins! Mrs. Dolores doctored my
feet with tobacco ashes as I reclined in a hammock under the lime trees
surrounding her hut. I did not buy the candles, but she did; and while
I silently thanked a Higher Power, and the _ta-tas_ burned to _her_
deity, she informed me that my countryman, the prodigal, had been
carried to the "potters' field." Not all prodigals reach home again;
some are buried by the swine-troughs.

For some time I was unable to put my feet to the ground; but Pancho,
ever active, tied in a fig tree, helped himself to ripe fruit, and took
life merrily. Pancho and I were eventually able to bid good-bye to Mrs.
Sorrows, and, thousands of miles down life's pathway, this little
friend and I journeyed together, he ever loving and true. I took him
across the ocean, away from his tropical home, and--he died. I am not
sentimental--nay, I have been accused of hardness--but I make this
reference to Pancho in loving memory. Unlike some friends of my life,
_he_ was constant and true. [Footnote: From letters awaiting me at the
post-office, I learned, with intense sorrow and regret, that my strange
patron had gone "the way of all flesh" The land I had been to explore,
along-with a bequest of $250,000, passed into the hands of the Baptist
Missionary Society, to the Secretary of which Society all my reports
were given.]




CHAPTER XI.

CHACO SAVAGES.


The Gran Chaco, an immense region in the interior of the continent,
said to be 2,500,000 square miles in extent, is, without doubt, the
darkest part of "The Darkest Land." From time immemorial this has been
given up to the Indians; or, rather, they have proved so warlike that
the white man has not dared to enter the vast plain. The Chaco contains
a population of perhaps 3,000,000 of aborigines. These are divided into
many tribes, and speak numerous languages. From the military outposts
of Argentina at the south, to the Fort of Olimpo, 450 miles north, the
country is left entirely to the savage. The former are built to keep
back the Tobas from venturing south, and the latter is a Paraguayan
fort on the Brazilian frontier. Here about one hundred soldiers are
quartered and some fifty women banished, for the Paraguayan Government
sends its female convicts there. [Footnote: The women are not provided
with even the barest necessities of life. Here they are landed and,
perforce, fasten themselves like leeches on the licentious soldiery. I
speak from personal knowledge, for I have visited the "hell" of
Paraguay.] Between these forts and Bolivia, on the west, I have been
privileged to visit eight different tribes of Indians, all of them
alike degraded and sunken in the extreme; savage and wild as man,
though originally made in the image of God, can be.

The Chaco is a great unknown land. The north, described by Mr. Minchin,
Bolivian Government Explorer, as "a barren zone--an almost
uninterrupted extent of low, thorny scrub, with great scarcity of
water," and the centre and south, as I have seen in exploring journeys,
great plains covered with millions of palm trees, through which the
astonished traveller can ride for weeks without seeing any limit. In
the dry season the land is baked by the intense heat of the tropical
sun, and cracked into deep fissures. In the rainy season it is an
endless marsh--a veritable dead man's land. During a 200-mile ride, 180
lay through water with the sun almost vertical. All this country in
past ages must have been the bed of a great salt sea.

As I have said, the Chaco is peculiarly Indian territory, into which
the white man steps at his peril. I accepted a commission, however, to
examine and report on certain parts of it, so I left the civilized
haunts of men and set foot on the forbidden ground.

My first introduction to the savages in Chaco territory was at their
village of Teepmuckthlawhykethy (The Place Where the Cows Arrived).
They were busy devouring a dead cow and a newly-born calf, and I saw
their naked bodies through such dense clouds of mosquitos that in one
clap of the hands I could kill twenty or thirty. This Indian _toldo_
consists of three large wigwams, in which live about eighty of the most
degraded aborigines to be found on earth. When they learned I was not
one of the _Christians_ from across the river, and that I came well
introduced, they asked: Did I come across the _big water_ in a dug-out?
Was it a day's journey? Would I give them some of "the stuff that
resembles the eggs of the ant?" (their name for rice).

I was permitted to occupy a palm hut without a roof, but I slept under
a tiger's skin, and that kept off dew and rain. They reserved the right
to come and go in it as they pleased. The women, with naked babies
astride their hips, the usual way of carrying them, were particularly
annoying. A little girl, however, perhaps ten years old, named Supupnik
(Sawdust), made friends with me, and that friendship lasted during all
my stay with them. Her face was always grotesquely painted, but she was
a sweet child.

These Indians are of normal stature, and are always erect and stately,
perhaps because all burdens are borne by straps on the forehead. The
expression of the savage is peculiar, for he pulls out all the hair on
his face, even the eyelashes and eyebrows, and seems to think the
omission of that act would be a terrible breach of cleanliness. These
same individuals will, however, frequently be seen with their whole
body so coated with dirt that it could easily be scraped off with a
knife in cakes, as the housewife would scrape a burnt loaf! The first
use to which the women put the little round tin looking-glasses, which
I used for barter, was to admire their pretty (?) faces; but the men,
with a sober look, would search for the detested hair on lip or chin.
That I was so lost to decency as to suffer a moustache to cover my lip
was to them a constant puzzle and wonder, for in every other respect
the universal opinion was that I was a civilized kind of "thing." I
write _thing_ advisedly, for the white man is to them an inferior
creation--not a _person_.

In place of a beard or moustache, the inhabitant of the Chaco prefers
to paint his face, and sometimes he makes quite an artistic design.

These wild inhabitants of Central South America generally wear a skin
around the loins, or a string of ostrich feathers. Some tribes, as, for
example, the Chamacocos, dispense with either. The height of fashion is
to wear strings of tigers' teeth, deer's hoofs, birds' bills, etc.,
around the neck. Strings of feathers or wool are twisted around ankles
and wrists, while the thickly matted hair is adorned with plumes,
standing upright.

The men insert round pieces of wood in the lobe of the ear. Boys of
tender age have a sharp thorn pushed through the ear, where more
civilized nations wear earrings. This hole is gradually enlarged until
manhood, when a round piece, two inches in diameter and one and a half
inches thick, can be worn, not depending from the ear, but in the
gristle of it. The cartilage is thus so distended that only a narrow
rim remains around the ornament, and this may often be seen broken out.
Sometimes three or four rattles from the tail of the rattlesnake also
hang from the ear on to the shoulder.

These tribes of the Chaco were all vassals of the Inca at the advent of
the Spaniards. They had been by them reclaimed from savagery, and
taught many useful arts, one or two of which, such as the making of
blankets and string, they still retain. The Inca used the ear ornaments
of solid gold, but made in the form of a wheel. The nearest approach to
this old custom is when the wooden ear-plug is painted thus, as are
some in the author's possession.

I was fortunate in gaining the favor of the tribe living near the
river, and because of certain favors conferred upon them, was adopted
into the family. My face was painted, my head adorned with ostrich
plumes, and I was given the name of Wanampangapthling ithma (Big Cactus
Red Mouth). Because of this formal initiation, I was privileged to
travel where I chose, but to the native Paraguayan or Argentine the
Chaco is a forbidden land. The Indian describes himself as a _man_;
monkeys are _little men_; I was a _thing_; but the Paraguayans are
_Christians_, and that is the lowest degree of all. The priests they
see on the other side of the river are _Yankilwana_ (neither man nor
woman); and a _Yankilwana_, in his distinctive garb, could never tread
this Indian soil. So abhorrent to them is the name of Christian, that
the missionaries have been compelled to use another word to describe
their converts, and they are called "Followers of Jesus." All the
members of some large expeditions have been massacred just because they
were _Christians_. Surely this is convincing corroboration of my
remarks regarding the state of Roman Catholicism in those dark lands.

A few miserable-looking, diminutive sheep are kept by some tribes, and
the blankets referred to are made from the wool, which is torn off the
sheep with a sharp shell, or, if near the coast, with a knife. The
blankets are woven by hand across two straight branches of tree, and
they are sometimes  in various shades. A bulbous root they know
of dyes brown, the cochineal insect red, and the bark of a tree yellow.
String is made from the fibre of the _caraguatai_ plant, and snail
shells are used to extract the fibre. This work is, of course, done by
the women, as is also the making of the clay pots they use for cooking.
The men only hunt.

All sleep on the ground, men, women, children and dogs, promiscuously.
The wigwams are nothing more than a few branches stuck in the ground
and tied at the top. The sides are left open. Very often even this most
primitive of dwellings is dispensed with, and the degraded beings crawl
under the shelter of the bushes. Furniture of any kind they are, of
course, wit-out, and their destitution is only equalled by the African
pigmy or the Australian black.

The Chaco is essentially a barren land, and the Indians' time seems
almost fully taken up in procuring food. The men, with bows and arrows,
hunt the deer, ostrich, fox, or wolf, while the women forage for roots
and wild fruit.

One tribe in the north of the Chaco are cannibals, and they
occasionally make war on their neighbors just to obtain food.

A good vegetable diet is the cabbage, which grows in the heart of
certain palms, and weighs three or four pounds. To secure this the tree
has perforce to be cut down. To the Indian without an axe this is no
light task. The palm, as is well known, differs from other trees by its
having the seat of life in the head, and not in the roots; so when the
cabbage is taken out the tree dies.

Anything, everything, is eaten for food, and a roasted serpent or
boiled fox is equally relished. During my stay among them I ceased to
ask of what the mess was composed; each dish was worse than the former.
Among the first dishes I had were mandioca root, a black carrion bird,
goat's meat, and fox's head. The puma, otter, ant-bear, deer,
armadillo, and ostrich are alike eaten, as is also the jaguar, a
ferocious beast of immense size. I brought away from those regions some
beautiful skins of this animal, the largest of which measures nearly
nine feet from nose to tail.

In the sluggish, almost salt, streams, fish are numerous, and these are
shot by the Indian with arrows, to which is attached a string of gut.
Lakes and rivers are also filled with hideous-looking alligators of all
sizes. These grow to the length of twelve or fifteen feet in these warm
waters, and the tail is considered quite a delicacy. Besides these
varied dishes, there is the electric eel; and, sunk in a yard depth of
mud, is the _lollock_, of such interest to naturalists The lollock is a
fish peculiar to the Chaco. Though growing to the length of three and
four feet, it has only rudimentary eyes, and is, in consequence, quite
blind; it is also unable to swim. The savage <DW8>s in the mud with a
long notched lance, sometimes for hours, until he sticks the appetizing
fish.

The steamy waters are so covered with aquatic plants that in some
places I have been able to walk across a living bridge. Once, when out
hunting, I came upon a beautiful forest glade, covered with a carpet of
green. Thinking it a likely place for deer, I entered, when lo, I sank
in a foetid lake of slime. Throwing my gun on to the bank, I had quite a
difficulty to regain dry land.

In my journeyings here and there I employed one or another of the
braves to accompany me. All they could eat and some little present was
the pay. No sooner was the gift in their hand, however, after supper,
than they would put it back in mine and say, "Give me some more food?"
I was at first accompanied by Yantiwau (The Wolf Rider). Armed with a
bow and arrows, he was a good hunter for me, and a faithful servant,
but his custom of spitting on my knife and spoon to clean them I did
not like. When my supplies were getting low, and I went to the river
for a wash, he would say: "There's no _kiltanithliacack_ (soap)--only
_clupup_ (sand)." Yantiwau was interested in pictures; he would gaze
with wondering eyes at photos, or views of other lands, but he looked
at them _the wrong side up_, as they all invariably do. While possessed
of a profound respect for me in some ways, he thought me very lacking
in common knowledge. While I was unable to procure game, through not
seeing any, he could call the bird to him in a "ducky, ducky, come and
be killed" kind of way; and my tongue was parched when he would scent
water. This was sometimes very easy to smell, however, for it was
almost impossible to drink out of a waterhole without holding the nose
and straining the liquid through my closed teeth. Chaco water at best
is very brackish, and on drying off the ground a white coat of salt is
left.

My Indian's first and last thought was of his stomach. While capable of
passing two or three days without eating, and feeling no pangs of
hunger, yet, when food was to hand, he gorged himself, and could put
away an incredible amount. Truly, his make-up was a constant wonder to
me. Riding through the "hungry belt" I would be famishing, but to my
question: "Are you hungry?" he would answer, "No." After a toilsome
journey, and no supper at the end: "Would you like to eat?" "No." But
let an ostrich or a deer come in sight, and he could not live another
minute without food! Another proof to Yantiwau of my incapacity was the
fact that when my matches were all used I could not light the fire. He,
by rubbing a blunt-pointed hard stick in a groove of soft wood, could
cause such a friction that the dust would speedily ignite, and set fire
to the dry twigs which he was so clever in collecting. Although such a
simple process to the Indian, I never met a white man who could use the
firesticks with effect.

Sitting by the camp-fire in the stillness of evening, my guide would
draw attention to a shooting star. "Look! That is a bad witch doctor,"
he would say. "Did you notice he went to the west? Well, the Toothlis
live there. He has gone for vengeance!"

The wide palm plains are almost uninhabited; I have journeyed eighty
miles without sighting human being or wigwam. In the rainy season the
trees stand out of a sea-like expanse of steaming water, and one may
wade through this for twenty miles without finding a dry place for
bivouac. Ant hills, ten and fifteen feet high, with dome-shaped roofs,
dot the wild waste like pigmy houses, and sometimes they are the only
dry land found to rest on. The horses flounder through the mire, or
sink up to the belly in slime, while clouds of flies make the life of
man and beast a living death. Keys rust in the pocket, and boots mildew
in a day. At other seasons, as I know by painful experience, the
hard-baked ground is cracked up into fissures, and not a drop of water
is to be found in a three days' journey. The miserable savages either
sit in utter dejection on logs of wood or tree roots, viewing the
watery expanse, or roam the country in search of _yingmin_ (water).

Whereas the Caingwas may be described as inoffensive Indians, the
inhabitants of the Chaco are _savages_, hostile to the white man, who
only here and there, with their permission, has settled on the river
bank. Generally a people of fine physique and iron constitution, free
from disease of any kind, they are swept into eternity in an incredibly
short space of time if _civilized_ diseases are introduced. Even the
milder ones, such as measles, decimate a whole tribe; and I have known
communities swept away as autumn leaves in a strong breeze with the
_grippe_. I was informed that the hospital authorities at Asuncion gave
them the cast-off fever clothing of their patients during an epidemic
to sweep them off the face of the earth!

The Indians have been ill-treated from the beginning. Darwin relates
that, in their eagerness to exterminate the red men, the Argentine
troops have pursued them for three days without food. On the frontier
they are killed in hundreds; by submitting to the white man they die in
thousands. Latin civilization is more terrible to them than war. Sad to
state, their only hope is to fight, and this the savage affirms he will
do for ever and ever.

Francia, the Dictator of Paraguay, ordered every Indian found--man,
woman or child--to be put to death! Lopez, a later ruler, took sport in
hunting Indians like deer. We are told that on one occasion he was so
successful as to kill forty-eight! The children he captured and sold
into slavery at fifteen and twenty dollars each. The white settler
considers himself very brave if he kills the savage with a rifle
sighted at five hundred yards, while well out of range of the Indians'
arrows, and I have known them shot just "for fun"! The Indians
retaliate by _cutting off the heels_ of their white captives, or
leaving them, _in statu naturae_, bound with thongs on an anthill; and
a more terrible death could not be devised by even the inquisitor,
Torquemada, of everlasting execration. The Indian is hard and cruel,
indifferent to pain in himself or others. A serpent may sting a
comrade, and he takes no notice; but let one find food and there is a
general scamper to the spot. The Chaco savage is barbarous in the
extreme. The slain enemies are often eaten, and the bones burnt and
scattered over their food. The children of enemies are traded off to
other tribes for more food.

The Chaco Indian is a born warrior. Sad to say, his only hope is to
fight against the Latin paleface.

Most of us have at times been able to detect a peculiar aroma in the
<DW64>. The keen-scented savage detects that something in us, and we
"smell" to them. Even I, _Big Cactus Red Mouth_, was not declared free
from a subtle odor, although I washed so often that they wondered my
skin did not come off. _They never wash_, and in damp weather the dirt
peels from them in cakes. Of course they _don't_ smell!

When a man or woman is, through age, no longer capable of looking after
the needs of the body, a shallow grave is dug, the aged one doubled up
until the knees are pressed into the hollow cheeks, and the back is
broken. This terrible work done, the undesired one is dragged by one
leg to the open tomb. Sometimes the face and whole body is so mangled,
by being pulled through thorns and over uneven ground, that it is not
recognizable, and the nose has at times been actually torn off. While
sometimes still alive, the body is covered up with mother earth.
Frequently the grave is so shallow that the matted hair may be seen
coming out at the top. The burial is generally made near a wood, and,
if passible, under the _holy wood tree_, which, in their judgment, has
great influence with evil spirits. Wild beasts, attracted by the odor
of the corpse, soon dig up the remains, and before next day it is
frequently devoured.

An _ordinary_ burial service may be thus described: A deep cut is first
made in the stomach of the departed one. Into this incision a stone,
some bone ash, and a bird's claw are introduced. The body is then
placed over the grave on two sticks, a muttering incantation is said by
the witch doctor, and the sticks are roughly knocked from under the
body, so as to permit it to fall in a sitting posture. A bow and
arrows, and some food and cooking utensils, are dropped into the grave.
All shooting stars, according to the Indian belief, are flying stones;
hence the custom of placing a stone in the stomach of the dead. It is
supposed to be able to mount heavenward, and, assuming its true
character, become the avenging adversary, and destroy the one who
caused the death--always a bad witch doctor. The bird's claw scratches
out the enemy's heart, and the ashes annihilate the spirit. One of the
missionaries in the Lengua tribe stated that he assisted at the burial
of a woman where the corpse fell head foremost into the grave, the feet
remaining up. Four times the attempt to drop her in right was made,
with similar results, and finally the husband deliberately broke his
dead wife's neck, and bent the head on to the back; then he broke her
limbs across his knee, and so the ghastly burial was at last completed!
Truly, "the dark places of the earth are full of the habitations of
cruelty." Let the one whose idea is to "leave the pagan in his
innocency" visit these savages, and, if he lives to tell it, his ideas
will have undergone a great change. They are _lost!_ and millions have
not yet heard of the "Son of Man," who "came to seek and to save that
which was lost."

At the death of any member, the _toldo_ in which he lived is burnt, all
his possessions are destroyed, and the people go into mourning. The
hair of both sexes is cut short or pulled out, and each one has the
face blackened with a vegetable dye, which, from experience, I know
hardly ever wears off again. As I have said, everything the man owned
in life is burnt and the village is deserted; all move right away to
get out of the presence of the death-giving spirit. To me the _toldo_
would not only seem abandoned, but the people gone without leaving a
trace of their path; but not so to Wolf Rider, my guide. By the
position of the half-burnt wood of the fire, he could tell the
direction they had taken, and the number gone--although each steps in
the other's footprints--whether they were stopping to hunt on the way,
and much more he would never tell me. Some of the missionaries have
spent ten years in the Chaco, but cannot get the savage to teach them
this lesson of signs.

In some tribes the aged ones are just _"left to die"_ sitting under a
palm-leaf mat. All the members of the tribe move away and leave them
thus. Many are the terrible things my eyes have witnessed, but surely
the most pathetic was the sight of an old woman sitting under the mat.
I was one day riding alone, but had with me two horses, when I caught
sight of the palm-leaf erection and the solitary figure sitting under
it. Getting down from my horse, I approached the woman and offered to
take her to a place of safety, promising to feed her and permit her to
live as long as she chose. Would she come with me? I begged and
entreated, but the poor woman would not so much as lift her eyes to
mine. The law of her tribe had said she must die, and the laws are to
them unalterable. Most reluctantly, I left her to be eaten later on by
the wild beasts.

Terrible as this custom is, other tribes kill and eat their aged
parents "as a mark of respect." Another tribe will not permit one
member to go into the spirit world alone, so they hang another one, in
order that there may be two to enter together.

Whereas the Caingwas are a religious people, even attributing their
custom of piercing the lip to divine commandment, the Chaco aborigines
have no god and no religion. Missionaries in the solitary station I
have referred to, after ten years' probing, have been unable to find
any approach to worship in their darkened minda. "The miserable
wretches who inhabit that vast wilderness are so low in the scale of
reasoning beings that one might doubt whether or not they have human
souls." [Footnote: Washburn's "History of Paraguay."] These "lost
sheep" have no word to express God, and have no idols. "The poverty of
the Indian dialects of the Chaco is scarcely surpassed by that of the
dumb brutes."

These wretched tribes have perfect community of goods; what is secured
by one belongs equally to all. A piece of cloth is either torn up and
distributed, or worn in turns by each one. The shirt which I gave my
guide, Yantiwau, for much arduous toil, was worn by one and another
alternately. Much as the savage at first desires to possess some
garment, it does not take long for him to tire of it. All agree with
Mark Twain, that "the human skin is the most comfortable of all
costumes," and, clothed in the sunlight, the human form divine is not
unlovely.

Sometimes the Indians of the interior take skins, etc., to the
Paraguayan towns across the river. Not knowing the use of money, their
little trading is done by barter. Their knowledge of value is so crude
that on one occasion they refused a two-dollar axe for an article, but
gladly accepted a ten-cent knife. The Chaco Indian, however, is seldom
seen in civilization. His home is in the interior of an unknown
country, which he wanders over in wild freedom. While the Caingwas are
homekeeping, these savages are nomadic, and could not settle down. The
land is either burnt up or inundated, so they do not plant, but live
only by the chase. So bold and daring are they that a man, armed only
with a lance, will attack a savage jaguar; or, diving under an
alligator, he will stab it with a sharpened bone. The same man will run
in abject terror if he thinks he hears _spirits_.

Though not religious, the savages are exceedingly superstitious, afraid
of ghosts and evil spirits, and the fear of these spectral visitants
pursues them through life. During a storm they vigorously shake their
blankets and mutter incantations to keep away supernatural visitors.

All diseases are caused by evil spirits, or the moon; and a comet
brings the measles. The help of the witch doctor has to be sought on
all occasions, for his special work is to drive away the evil spirit
that has taken possession of a sick one. This he does by rattling a
hollow calabash containing stones. That important person will perform
his mystic _hocus pocus_ over the sick or dying, and charm away the
spirits from a neighborhood. I have known an Indian, when in great pain
through having eaten too much, send for the old fakir, who, after
examination of the patient and great show of learning, declared that
the suffering one _had two tigers in his stomach_. A very common remedy
is the somewhat scientific operation of bleeding a patient, but the
manner is certainly uncommon--the witch doctor sucks out the blood. One
I was acquainted with, among the Lengua tribe, professed to suck three
cats out of a man's stomach. His professional name was thereafter
"Father of Kittens." The doctor's position is not one to be envied,
however, for if three consecutive patients die, he must follow them
_down the dark trail!_

These medicine-men are experts in poisons, and their enemies have a way
of dying suddenly. It cannot be denied that the Indians have a very
real knowledge of the healing virtues of many plants. The writer has
marvelled at the cures he has seen, and was not slow to add some of
their methods to his medical knowledge. Not a few who have been healed,
since the writer's return to civilization, owe their new life to the
knowledge there learned.

Infanticide is practised in every tribe, and in my extensive wanderings
among eight _toldos_, I never met a family with more than two children.
The rest are killed! A child is born, and the mother immediately knocks
it on the head with a club! After covering the baby with a layer of
earth, the woman goes about as if nothing had occurred. One chief of
the Lengua tribe, that I met, had himself killed nineteen children. An
ironwood club is kept in each _toldo_ for this gruesome work.
Frequently a live child is buried with a dead parent; but I had better
leave much of their doings in the inkpot.

When a girl enters the matrimonial market, at about the age of twelve
or thirteen, her face is specially  with a yellow paint, made
from the flower of the date palm, and the aspirant to her hand brings a
bundle of firewood, neatly tied up, which he places beside her earthen
bed at early morning. As the rising sun gilds the eastern sky, the girl
awakes out of her sleep, rubs her eyes,--and sees the sticks. Well does
she know the meaning of it, and a glad light flashes in her dark eyes
as she cries out, "Who brought the sticks?" All men, women and
children, take up the cry, and soon the whole encampment resounds with,
"Who brought the sticks?" The medicine-man, who sleeps apart from the
"common herd" under an incense-tree, hears the din, and, quickly
donning his head-dress, hurries down to the scene. With an
authoritative voice, which even the chief himself does not use, he
demands, "Who brought the sticks?" until a young brave steps forward in
front of him and replies, "Father of Kittens, I brought the sticks."
This young man is then commanded to stand apart, the girl is hunted
out, and together they wait while the witch-doctor X-rays them through
and through. After this close scrutiny, they are asked: "Do you want
this man?" "Do you want this girl?" To which they reply, "Yes, Father
of Kittens, I do." Then, with great show of power, the medicine-man
says, "Go!" and off the newly-married pair start, to live together
until death (in the form of burial) does them part.

It may be a great surprise to the reader to learn that these savages
are exceedingly moral. Infidelity between man and wife is punished with
death, but in all my travels I only heard of one such case. A man
marries only one wife, and although any expression of love between them
is never seen, they yet seem to think of one another in a tender way,
and it is especially noticeable that the parents are kind to their
children.

One evening I rode into an encampment of savages who were celebrating a
feast. About fifty specially-decked-out Indians were standing in a
circle, and one of the number had a large and very noisy rattle, with
which he kept time to the chant of Ha ha ha ha ha! u u u u u! o o o oo!
au au au au au! The lurid lights of the fires burning all around lit up
this truly savage scene. The witch-doctor, the old fakir named "Father
of Kittens," came to me and looked me through and through with his
piercing eyes. I was given the rattle, and, although very tired, had to
keep up a constant din, while my wild companions bent their bodies in
strange contortions. In the centre of the ring was a woman with a
lighted pipe in her hand. She passed this from one to another and
pushed it into the mouth of each one, who had "a draw." My turn came,
and lo! the pipe was thrust between my teeth, and the din went on: Ha
ha! u u! o o! au au! This feast lasted three nights and two days, but
the music was not varied, and neither man nor woman seemed to sleep or
rest. Food was cooking at the different fires, attended by the women,
but my share was only a _roasted fox's head!_ The animal was laid on
the wood, with skin, head and legs still attached, and the whole was
burnt black. I was very hungry, and ate my portion thankfully.
Christopher North said: "There's a deal of fine confused feeding about
a sheep's head," and so I found with the fox's. Truly, as the Indian
says, "hunger is a very big man."

At these feasts a drum, made by stretching a serpent's skin over one of
their clay pots, is loudly beaten, and the thigh-bone of an ostrich,
with key-holes burned in, is a common musical instrument. From the
_algarroba_ bean an intoxicating drink is made, called _ang-min_, and
then yells, hellish sounds and murderous blows inspire terror in the
paleface guest. "It is impossible to conceive anything more wild and
savage than the scene of their bivouac. Some drink till they are
intoxicated, others swallow the steaming blood of slaughtered animals
for their supper, and then, sick from drunkenness, they cast it up
again, and are besmeared with gore and filth."

After the feast was over I held a service, and told how sin was
_injected_ into us by the evil spirit, but that all are invited to the
heavenly feast. My address was listened to in perfect silence, and the
nodding heads showed that some, at least, understood it. When I
finished speaking, a poor woman, thinking she must offer something,
gave me her baby--a naked little creature that had never been washed in
its life. I took it up and kissed it, and the poor woman smiled. Yes, a
savage woman can smile.

As already stated, many different tribes of Indians dwell in the Chaco,
and each have their different customs. In the Suhin tribe the rite of
burial may be thus described. "The digger of the grave and the
performer of the ceremony was the chief, who is also a witch-doctor,
and I was told that he was about to destroy the witch-doctor who had
caused the man's death. A fire was lit, and whilst the digging was in
progress a stone and two pieces of iron were being heated. Two bones of
a horse, a large bird's nest built of sticks, and various twigs were
collected. The skin of a jaguar's head, a tooth, and the pads of the
same animal were laid out. A piece of wax and a stone were also heated;
and in a heap lay a hide, some skins for bedding, and a quantity of
sheep's wool. The grave being finished, the ceremony began by a wooden
arrow being notched in the middle and waxed, then plunged into the
right breast of the corpse, when it was snapped in two at the notch,
and the remaining half was flung into the air, accompanied with a
vengeful cry, in the direction of the Toothli tribe, one of whose
doctors, it was supposed, had caused the man's death. Short pointed
sticks, apparently to represent arrows, were also daubed with wax, two
being plunged into the throat and one into the left breast, the cry
again accompanying each insertion. One of the jaguar's pads was next
taken, and the head of the corpse torn by the claws, the growl of the
animal being imitated during the process. An incision was next made in
the cheek, and the tooth inserted; then the head and face were daubed
with the heated wax. The use of the wax is evidently to signify the
desire that both arrows and animal may stick to the man if he be
attacked by either. The arrows were plunged, one into the right breast
downwards, and another below the ribs, on the same side, but in an
upward direction, a third being driven into the right thigh. They also
spoke about breaking one of the arms, but did not do so. An incision
being made in the abdomen, the heated stone was then placed within the
body. They place most reliance upon the work of the stone. The ceremony
is known by the name of 'Mataimang' stone, and all the other things are
said to assist it. Meteorites, when seen to pass along the sky, are
regarded with awe; they are believed to be these stones in passage. The
body was placed in the grave with the head to the west, the jaguar's
head and pads being first placed under it. A bunch of grass, tied
together, was placed upon the body; then the bird's nest was burned
upon it. The bones were next thrown in, and over all the various
articles before mentioned were placed. These were to accompany the soul
in its passage to the west. In this act the idea of a future state is
more distinctly seen than ever it has been seen amongst the Lenguas,
who burn all a man's possessions at his death. The ceremony finished,
the grave was covered in, logs and twigs being carelessly thrown on the
top, apparently simply to indicate the existence of a grave. The thing
which struck me most was the intense spirit of vengeance shown."

Notwithstanding such terrible savagery, however, the Indian has ideas
of right and wrong that put Christian civilization to shame. The people
are perfectly _honest_ and _truthful_. I believe they _cannot lie_, and
stealing is entirely unknown among them.

Many are the experiences I have had in the Chaco. Some of them haunt me
still like ghostly shadows. The evening camp-fire, the glare of
 which lit up and made more hideous still my savage followers,
gorging themselves until covered with filth and gore. The times when,
from sheer hunger, I have, like them, torn up bird or beast and eaten
it raw. The draughts of water from the Indian hole containing the
putrefying remains of some dead animal; my shirt dropping off in rags
and no wash for three weeks. The journeys through miles of malarial
swamps and pathless wilderness. The revolting food, and the want of
food. Ah! the memory is a bad dream from which I must awake.

The other side, you say? Yes, there is another. A cloudless blue sky
overhead. The gorgeous air-flowers, delicate and fragrant. Trees
covered with a drapery of orchidaceae. The loveliest of flowers and
shrubs. Birds of rainbow beauty, painted by the hand of God, as only He
can. Flamingoes, parrots, humming-birds, butterflies of every size and
hue. Arborescent ferns; cacti, thirty feet high, like huge candelabra.
Creeping plants growing a hundred feet, and then passing from the top
of one ever-vernal tree to another, forming a canopy for one from the
sun's rays. Chattering monkeys. Deer, with more beautiful eyes than
ever woman had since Eve fell. The balmy air wafting incense from the
burning bush; and last, but oh, not least, the joy in seeing the
degraded aborigine learning to love the "Light of the World"! Yes,
there are delights; but "life is real, life is earnest," and a meal of
_algarroba_ beans (the husks of the prodigal son of Luke XV.) is not
any more tempting if eaten under the shade of a waving palm of
surpassing beauty.

The mission station previously referred to lies one hundred miles in
from the river bank, three hundred miles north of Asuncion, among the
Lengua Indians. As far as I am aware, no Paraguayan has ever visited
there. The missionaries wish their influence to be the only one in
training the Indian mind. The village bears the strange name of
Waikthlatemialwa (The Place Where the Toads Arrived). At the invitation
of the missionaries, I was privileged to go there and see their work. A
trail leads in from the river bank, but it is so bad that bullock carts
taking in provisions occupy ten and twelve days on the journey. Tamaswa
(The Locust Eater), my guide, led me all during the first day out
through a palm forest, and at night we slept on the hard ground. The
Indian was a convert of the mission, and although painted, feathered
and almost naked, seemed really an exemplary Christian. The
missionaries labored for eleven years without gaining a single convert,
but Tamaswa is not the only "follower of Jesus" now. During the day we
shot a deer, and that evening, being very hungry, I ate perhaps two
pounds of meat. Tamaswa finished the rest! True, it was only a small
deer, but as I wish to retain my character for veracity, I dare not say
how much it weighed. This meal concluded, we knelt on the ground. I
read out of the old Book: "I go to prepare a place for you," and Locust
Eater offered a simple prayer for protection, help and safety to the
God who understands all languages.

My blanket was wet through and through with the green slime through
which we had waded and splashed for hours, but we curled ourselves up
under a beer barrel tree and tried to sleep. The howling jaguars and
other beasts of prey in the jungle made this almost impossible. Several
times I was awakened by my guide rising, and, by the light of a palm
torch, searching for wood to replenish the dying fire, in the smoke of
which we slept, as a help against the millions of mosquitos buzzing
around. Towards morning a large beast of some kind leaped right over
me, and I rose to rekindle the fire, which my guide had suffered to die
out, and then I watched until day dawned. As all the deer was consumed,
we started off without breakfast, but were fortunate later on in being
able to shoot two wild turkeys.

That day we rode on through the endless forest of palms, and waded
through a quagmire at least eight miles in extent, where the green
slime reached up to the saddle-flaps. On that day we came to a sluggish
stream, bearing the name of "Aptikpangmakthlaingwainkyapaimpangkya"
(The Place Where the Pots Were Struck When They Were About to Feast).
There a punt was moored, into which we placed our saddles, etc., and
paddled across, while the horses swam the almost stagnant water.
Saddling up on the other side, we had a journey of thirty miles to make
before arriving at a waterhole, where we camped for the second night. I
don't know what real nectar is, but that water was nectar to me,
although the horses sniffed and at first refused to drink it.

At sunset on the third day we emerged from the palm forest and endless
marshes, and by the evening of the fourth day the church, built of palm
logs, loomed up on the horizon. Many of the Indians came out to meet
us, and my arrival was the talk of the village. The people seemed
happy, and the missionaries made me at home in their roughly-built log
shanties. Next morning I found a gift had been brought me by the
Indians. It was a beautiful feather headdress, but it had just been
left on the step, the usual way they have of making presents. The
Indian expects no thanks, and he gives none. The women received any
present I handed them courteously but silently. The men would accept a
looking-glass from me and immediately commence to search their face for
any trace of "dirty hairs," probably brought to their mind by the sight
of mine, but not even a grunt of satisfaction would be given. No Chaco
language has a word for "thanks."


[Illustration: TAMASWA (THE LOCUST EATER) PROCURING FOOD. This young
man could put the point of his arrow into a deer's eye a hundred yards
distant]

[Illustration: FASHIONS OF THE CHACO.]


There is, among the Lenguas, an old tradition to the effect that for
generations they have been expecting the arrival of some strangers who
would live among them and teach them about the spirit-world. These
long-looked-for teachers were called _The Imlah_. The tradition says
that when the Imlah arrive, all the Indians must obey their teaching,
and take care that the said Imlah do not again leave their country, for
if so they, the Indians, would disappear from the land. When Mr. Grubb
and his helpers first landed, they were immediately asked, "Are you the
Imlah?" and to this question they, of course, answered yes. Was it not
because of this tradition that the Indian who later shot Mr. Grubb with
a poisoned arrow was himself put to death by the tribe?

About twenty boys attend the school established at Waikthlatemialwa,
and strange names some of them bear; let Haikuk (Little Dead One) serve
as an example. It is truly a cheering sight to see this sign of a
brighter day. When these boys return to their distant _toldos_ to tell
"the news" to their dark-minded parents, the most wonderful of all to
relate is "Liklamo ithnik nata abwathwuk enthlit God; hingyahamok
hiknata apkyapasa apkyitka abwanthlabanko. Aptakmilkischik sat ankuk
appaiwa ingyitsipe sata netin thlamokthloho abyiam." [Footnote: John
3:16]

Well might the wondering mother of "Dark Cloud" call her next-born
"Samai" (The Dawn of Day).

The Indian counts by his hands and feet. Five would be one hand, two
hands ten, two hands and a foot fifteen, and a specially clever savage
could even count "my two hands and my two feet." Now Mr. Hunt is
changing that: five is _thalmemik_, ten _sohok-emek_, fifteen
_sohokthlama-eminik_, and twenty _sohok-emankuk_.

When a boy in school desires to say eighteen, he must first of all take
a good deep breath, for _sohok-emek-wakthla-mok-eminick-antanthlama_ is
no short word. This literally means: "finished my hands--pass to my
other foot three."

At the school I saw the skin of a water-snake twenty-six feet nine
inches long, but a book of pictures I had interested the boys far more.

The mission workers have each a name given to them by the Indians, and
some of them are more than strange. Apkilwankakme (The Man Who Forgot
His Face) used to be called Nason when he moved in high English
circles; now he is ragged and torn-looking; but the old Book my mother
used to read says: "He that loseth his life for My sake shall find it."
Some of us have yet to learn that if we would remember _His face_ it is
necessary for us to forget our own. If the unbeliever in mission work
were to go to Waik-thlatemialwa, he would come away a converted man.
The former witch-doctor, who for long made "havoc," but has since been
born again, would tell him that during a recent famine he talked to the
Unseen Spirit, and said: "Give us food, God!" and that, when only away
a very short while, his arrows killed three ostriches and a deer. He
would see Mrs. Mopilinkilana walking about, clothed and in her right
mind. Who is she? The murderess of her four children--the woman who
could see the skull of her own boy kicking about the _toldo_ for days,
and watch it finally cracked up and eaten by the dogs. Can such as she
be changed? The Scripture says: "Every one that believeth."

The Lengua language contains no word for God, worship, praise,
sacrifice, sin, holiness, reward, punishment or duty, but their
meanings are now being made clear.

The church at Waikthlatemialwa has no  glass windows--old canvas
bags take their place. The reverent worshippers assemble morning and
evening, in all the pride of their paint and feathers, but there is no
hideous idol inside; nay! they worship the invisible One, whom they can
see even with closely shut eyes. To watch the men and women, with erect
bearing, and each walking in the other's footsteps, enter the church,
is a sight well worth the seeing. They bow themselves, not before some
fetish, as one might suppose, but to the One whom, having not seen,
some of them are learning to love.

One of the missionaries translated my simple address to the dusky
congregation, who listened with wondering awe to the ever-new story of
Jesus. As the Lengua language contains no word for God, the Indians
have adopted our English word, and both that name and Jesus came out in
striking distinctness during the service, and in the fervent prayer of
the old ex-witch-doctor which followed. With the familiar hymn, "There
is a green hill far away," the meeting concluded. The women with
nervous air silently retired, but the men saluted me, and some even
went so far as to shake hands--with the left hand. Would that similar
stations were established all over this neglected land! While churches
and mission buildings crowd each other in the home lands, the Chaco,
with an estimated population of three millions, must be content with
this one ray of light in the dense night.

On that far-off "green hill" we shall meet some even from the Lengua
tribe. Christ said: "I am the door; by Me if _any_ man enter in, he
shall be saved." But oh, "Painted Face," you spoke truth; the white
"thing" _is_ selfish, and keeps this wondrous knowledge to himself.




PART IV.

BRAZIL


[Illustration]


"There can be no more fascinating field of labor than Brazil,
notwithstanding the difficulty of the soil and the immense tracts of
country which have to be traversed. It covers half a continent, and is
_three times the size of British India_. Far away in the interior there
exist numerous Indian tribes with, as yet, no written language, and
consequently no Bible. Thrust back by the white man from their original
homes, these children of the forest and the river are, perhaps, the
most needy of the tribes of the earth. For all that these millions
know, the Gospel is non-existent and Jesus Christ has never visited and
redeemed the world." [Footnote: The Neglected Continent]


BRAZIL

The Republic of Brazil has an area of 3,350,000 square miles. From
north to south the country measures 2,600 miles, and from east to west
2,500 miles. While the Republic of Bolivia has no sea coast, Brazil has
3,700 miles washed by ocean waves. The population of this great empire
is twenty-two millions. Out of this perhaps twenty millions speak the
Portuguese language.

"If Brazil was populated in the same proportion as Belgium is per
square mile, Brazil would have a population of 1,939,571,699. That is
to say, Brazil, a single country in South America, could hold and
support the entire population of the world, and hundreds of millions
more, the estimate of the earth's population at the beginning of the
twentieth century being 1,600,000,000." [Footnote: Bishop Neely's
"South America."]

Besides the millions of mules, horses and other animals, there are, in
the republic, twenty-five millions of cattle.

Brazil is rich in having 50,000 miles of navigable waterways. Three of
the largest rivers of the world flow through its territory. The Orinoco
attains a width of four miles, and is navigable for 1,400 miles. The
Amazon alone drains a basin of 2,500,000 square miles.

Out of this mighty stream there flows every day three times the volume
of water that flows from the Mississippi. Many a sea-captain has
thought himself in the ocean while riding its stormy bosom. That most
majestic of all rivers, with its estuary 180 miles wide, is the great
highway of Brazil. Steamboats frequently leave the sea and sail up its
winding channels into the far interior of Ecuador--a distance of nearly
4,000 miles. All the world knows that both British and American
men-of-war have visited the city of Iquitos in Peru, 2,400 miles up the
Amazon River. The sailor on taking soundings has found a depth of 170
feet of water at 2,000 miles from the mouth. Stretches of water and
impenetrable forest as far as the eye can reach are all the traveller
sees.

Prof. Orton says: "The valley of the Amazon is probably the most
sparsely populated region on the globe," and yet Agassiz predicted that
"the future centre of civilization of the world will be in the Amazon
Valley." I doubt if there are now 500 acres of tilled land in the
millions of square miles the mighty river drains. Where cultivated,
coffee, tobacco, rubber, sugar, cocoa, rice, beans, etc., freely grow,
and the farmer gets from 500 to 800-fold for every bushel of corn he
plants. Humboldt estimated that 4,000 pounds of bananas can be produced
in the same area as 33 pounds of wheat or 99 pounds of potatoes.

The natural wealth of the country is almost fabulous. Its mountain
chains contain coal, gold, silver, tin, zinc, mercury and whole
mountains of the very best iron ore, while in forty years five million
carats of diamonds have been sent to Europe. In 1907 Brazil exported
ten million dollars' worth of cocoa, seventy million dollars' worth of
rubber; and from the splendid stone docks of Santos, which put to shame
anything seen on this northern continent, either in New York or Boston,
there was shipped one hundred and forty-two million dollars' worth of
coffee. Around Rio Janeiro alone there are a hundred million coffee
trees, and the grower gets two crops a year.

Yet this great republic has only had its borders touched. It is
estimated that there are over a million Indians in the interior, who
hold undisputed possession of four-fifths of the country. Three and a
quarter million square miles of the republic thus remains to a great
extent an unknown, unexplored wilderness. In this area there are over a
million square miles of virgin forest, "the largest and densest on
earth." The forest region of the Amazon is twelve hundred miles east to
west, and eight hundred miles north to south, and this sombre, primeval
woodland has not yet been crossed. [Footnote: Just as this goes to
press the newspapers announce that the Brazilian Government has
appropriated $10,000 towards the expenses of an expedition into the
interior, under the leadership of Henry Savage Landor, the English
explorer.]

Brazil's federal capital, Rio de Janeiro, stands on the finest harbor
of the world, in which float ships from all nations. Proudest among
these crafts are the large Brazilian gunboats. "It is a curious
anomaly," says the _Scientific American_, "that the most powerful
Dreadnought afloat should belong to a South American republic, but it
cannot be denied that the _Minas Geraes_ is entitled to that
distinction." This is one of the vessels that mutinied in 1910.

Brazil is a strange republic. Fanatical, where the Bible is burned in
the public plaza whenever introduced, yet, where the most obscene
prints are publicly offered for sale in the stores. Where it is a
"mortal sin" to listen to the Protestant missionary, and _not_ a sin to
break the whole Decalogue. Backward--where the villagers are tied to a
post and whipped by the priest when they do not please him.
Progressive--in the cities where religion has been relegated to women
and children and priests.

Did I write the word religion? Senhor Ruy Barbosa, the most conspicuous
representative of South America at the last Hague Conference, and a
candidate for the Presidency of Brazil, wrote of it: "_Romanism is not
a religion, but a political organization, the most vicious, the most
unscrupulous, and the most destructive of all political systems. The
monks are the propagators of fanaticism, the debasers of Christian
morals. The history of papal influence has been nothing more nor less
than the story of the dissemination of a new paganism, as full of
superstition and of all unrighteousness as the mythology of the
ancients--a new paganism organized at the expense of evangelical
traditions, shamelessly falsified and travestied by the Romanists. The
Romish Church in all ages has been a power, religious scarcely in name,
but always inherently, essentially and untiringly a political power_."
As Bishop Neely of the M. E. Church was leaving Rio, Dr. Alexander, one
of Brazil's most influential gentlemen, said to him: "_It is sad to see
my people so miserable when they might be so happy. Their ills,
physical and moral, spring from lack of religion. They call themselves
Catholics, but the heathen are scarcely less Christian_!" Is it
surprising that the Italian paper _L'Asino_ (The Ass), which exists
only to ridicule Romanism, has recently been publishing much in praise
of what it calls authentic Christianity?

"Rio Janeiro, the beautiful," is an imperial city of imposing grandeur.
It is the largest Portuguese city of the world--greater than Lisbon and
Oporto together. It has been called "the finest city on the continents
of America,--perhaps in the world, with unqualifiedly the most
beautiful street in all the world, the Avenida Central." [Footnote:
Clark. "Continent of Opportunity."] That magnificent avenue, over a
mile long and one hundred and ten feet wide, asphalt paved and superbly
illuminated, is lined with costly modern buildings, some of them truly
imposing. Ten people can walk abreast on its beautiful black and white
mosaic sidewalks. The buildings which had to be demolished in order to
build this superb avenue cost the government seven and a half millions
of dollars, and they were bought at their _taxed_ value, which, it was
estimated, was only a third of the actual. [Footnote: "But as a
wonderful city, the crowning glory of Brazil--yes of the world, I
believe--is Rio de Janeiro."--C. W. Furlong, in "The World's Work."]

Some years ago I knew a thousand people a day to die in Rio Janeiro of
yellow fever. It is now one of the healthiest of cities, with a
death-rate far less than that of New York.

Rio Janeiro, as I first knew it, was far behind. Oil lamps shed fitful
gleams here and there on half-naked people. Electric lights now dispel
the darkness of the streets, and electric streetcars thread in and out
of the "Ruas." There is progress everywhere and in everything.

To-day the native of Rio truthfully boasts that his city has "the
finest street-car system of any city of the world."

A man is not permitted to ride in these cars unless he wears a tie,
which seems to be the badge of respectability. To a visitor these
exactions are amusing. A friend of mine visited the city, and we rode
together on the cars until it was discovered that he wore no tie. The
day was hot, and my friend (a gentleman of private means) had thought
that a white silk shirt with turn-down collar was enough. We felt
somewhat humiliated when he was ignominiously turned off the car, while
the black ex-slaves on board smiled aristocratically. If you visit Rio
Janeiro, by all means wear a tie. If you forget your shirt, or coat, or
boots, it will matter little, but the absence of a tie will give the
<DW64> cause to insult you.

Some large, box-like cars have the words "_Descalcos e Bagagem_"
(literally, "For the Shoeless and Baggage") printed across them. In
these the poorer classes and the tieless can ride for half-price. And
to make room for the constantly inflowing people from Europe, two great
hills are being removed and "cast into the sea."


Rio Janeiro may be earth's coming city. It somewhat disturbs our
self-complacency to learn that they have spent more for public
improvements than has any city of the United States, with the exception
of New York. Municipal works, involving an expenditure of $40,000,000,
have contributed to this.

Rio Janeiro, however, is not the only large and growing city Brazil can
boast of. Sao Paulo, with its population of 300,000 and its
two-million-dollar opera house, which fills the space of three New York
blocks, is worthy of mention. Bahia, founded in 1549, has 270,000
inhabitants, and is the centre of the diamond market of Brazil. Para,
with its population of 200,000, who export one hundred million dollars'
worth of rubber yearly and keep up a theatre better than anything of
the kind in New York, is no mean city. Pernambuco, also, has 200,000
inhabitants, large buildings, and as much as eight million dollars have
recently been devoted to harbor improvements there.

Outside of these cities there are estates, quite a few of which are
worth more than a million dollars; one coffee plantation has five
million trees and employs five thousand people.

With its Amazon River, six hundred miles longer than the journey from
New York to Liverpool, England, with its eight branches, each of which
is navigable for more than a thousand miles, Brazil's future must be
very great.




CHAPTER XII.

_A JOURNEY FROM RIO JANEIRO TO THE INLAND TOWN OF CORUMBA_.


Brazil has over 10,000 miles of railway, but as it is a country larger
than the whole of Europe, the reader can easily understand that many
parts must be still remote from the iron road and almost inaccessible.
The town of Cuyaba, as the crow flies, is not one thousand miles from
Rio, but, in the absence of any kind of roads, the traveller from Rio
must sail down the one thousand miles of sea-coast, and, entering the
River Plate, proceed up the Parana, Paraguay, and San Lorenzo rivers to
reach it, making it a journey of 3,600 miles.

"In the time demanded for a Brazilian to reach points in the interior,
setting out from the national capital and going either by way of the
Amazon or Rio de la Plata systems of waterways, he might journey to
Europe and back two or three times over." [Footnote: Sylvester Baxter,
in The Outlook, March, 1908.]

The writer on one occasion was in Rio when a certain mission called him
to the town of Corumba, distant perhaps 1,300 miles from the capital.
Does the reader wish to journey to that inland town with him?

Boarding an ocean steamer at Rio, we sail down the stormy sea-coast for
one thousand miles to Montevideo. There we tranship into the Buenos
Ayres boat, and proceed one hundred and fifty miles up the river to
that city. Almost every day steamers leave that great centre for far
interior points. The "Rapido" was ready to sail for Asuncion, so we
breasted the stream one thousand miles more, when that city was
reached. There another steamer waited to carry us to Corumba, another
thousand miles further north.

The climate and scenery of the upper reaches of the Paraguay are
superb, but our spirits were damped one morning when we discovered that
a man of our party had mysteriously disappeared during the night. We
had all sat down to dinner the previous evening in health and spirits,
and now one was missing. The All-seeing One only knows his fate. To us
he disappeared forever.

Higher up the country--or lower, I cannot tell which, for the river
winds in all directions, and the compass, from pointing our course as
due north, glides over to northwest, west, southwest, and on one or two
occasions, I believe, pointed due south--we came to the first Brazilian
town, Puerto Martinho, where we were obliged to stay a short time. A
boat put off from the shore, in which were some well-dressed natives.
Before she reached us and made fast, a loud report of a Winchester rang
out from the midst of those assembled on the deck of our steamer, and a
man in the boat threw up his arms and dropped; the spark of life had
gone out. So quickly did this happen that before we had time to look
around the unfortunate man was weltering in his own blood in the bottom
of the boat! The assassin, an elderly Brazilian, who had eaten at our
table and scarcely spoken to anyone, stepped forward quietly,
confessing that he had shot one of his old enemies. He was then taken
ashore in the ship's boat, there to await Brazilian justice, and later
on, to appear before a higher tribunal, where the accounts of all men
will be balanced.

Such rottenness obtains in Brazilian law that not long since a judge
sued in court a man who had bribed him and sought to evade paying the
bribe. Knowing this laxity, we did not anticipate that our murderous
fellow-traveller would have to suffer much for his crime. The _News_,
of Rio Janeiro, recently said: "The punishment of a criminal who has
any influence whatever is becoming one of the forgotten things."

After leaving Puerto Martinho, the uniform flatness of the river banks
changes to wild, mountainous country. On either hand rise high
mountains, whose blue tops at times almost frowned over our heads, and
the luxuriant tropical vegetation, with creeping lianas, threatened to
bar our progress. Huge alligators sunned themselves on the banks, and
birds of brilliant plumage flew from branch to branch. _Carpinchos_,
with heavy, pig-like tread, walked among the rushes of the shore, and
made more than one good dish for our table. This water-hog, the largest
gnawing animal in the world, is here very common. Their length, from
end of snout to tail, is between three and four feet, while they
frequently weigh up to one hundred pounds. The girth of their body will
often exceed the length by a foot. For food, they eat the many aquatic
plants of the river banks, and the puma, in turn, finds them as
delicious a morsel as we did. The head of this amphibious hog presents
quite a ludicrous aspect, owing to the great depth of the jaw, and to
see them sitting on their haunches, like huge rabbits, is an amusing
sight. The young cling on to the mother's back when she swims.

Farther on we stopped to take in wood at a large Brazilian cattle
establishment, and a man there assured us that "there were no venomous
insects except tigers," but these killed at least fifteen per cent. of
his animals. Not long previously a tiger had, in one night, killed five
men and a dog. The heat every day grew more oppressive. On the eighth
day we passed the Brazilian fort and arsenal of Cuimbre, with its brass
cannon shining in a sun of brass, and its sleepy inhabitants lolling in
the shade.

Five weeks after leaving Rio Janeiro we finally anchored in Corumba, an
intensely sultry spot. Corumba is a town of 5,000 inhabitants, and
often said to be one of the hottest in the world. It is an unhealthy
place, as are most towns without drainage and water supply. In the
hotter season of the year the ratio on a six months' average may be two
deaths to one birth. It is a place where dogs at times seem more
numerous than people, a town where justice is administered in ways new
and strange. Does the reader wish an instance? An assassin of the
deepest dye was given over by the judge to the tender mercies of the
crowd. The man was thereupon attacked by the whole population in one
mass. He was shot and stabbed, stoned and beaten until he became almost
a shapeless heap, and was then hurried away in a mule cart, and,
without coffin, priest or mourners, was buried like a dog.

Perhaps the populace felt they had to take the law into their own
hands, for I was told that the Governor had taken upon himself the
responsibility of leaving the prison gates open to thirty-two men, who
had quietly walked out. These men had been incarcerated for various
reasons, murder, etc., for even in this state of Matto Grosso an
assassin who cannot pay or escape suffers a little imprisonment. The
excuse was, "We cannot afford to keep so many idle men--we are poor."
What a confession for a Brazilian! I do not vouch for the story, for I
was not an eye-witness to the act, but it is quite in the range of
Brazilian possibilities. The only discrepancy may be the strange way of
Portuguese counting. A man buys three horses, but his account is that
he has bought twelve feet of horses. He embarks a hundred cows, but the
manifest describes the transaction as four hundred feet. The Brazilian
is in this respect almost a Yankee--little sums do not content him. Why
should they, when he can truthfully boast that his territory is larger
than that of the United States? His mile is longer than that of any
other nation, and the _bocadinho_, or extra "mouthful," which generally
accompanies it, is endless. Instead of having one hundred cents to the
dollar, he has two thousand, and each cent is called a "king." The
sound is big, but alas, the value of his money is insignificantly small!

The child is not content with being called John Smith. "Jose Maria
Jesus Joao dois Sanctos Sylva da Costa da Cunha" is his name; and he
recites it, as I, in my boyhood's days, used to "say a piece" while
standing on a chair. There is no school in the town. In Brazil, 84 per
cent. of the entire population are illiterate.

Corumba contains a few stores of all descriptions, but it would seem
that the stock in trade of the chemist is very low, for I overheard a
conversation between two women one day, who said they could not get
this or that--in fact, "he only keeps cures for stabs and such like
things." In the _armazems_ liquors are sold, and rice, salt and beans
despatched to the customer by the pint. Why wine and milk are not sold
by the pound I did not enquire.

One is not to ask too much in Brazil, or offence is given. When seated
at table one day with a comrade, who had the misfortune to swallow a
bone, I quietly "swallowed" the remedy a Brazilian told us of. He said
their custom was for all to turn away their heads, while the
unfortunate one revolved his plate around three times to the left, and
presto! the bone disappeared. My friend did not believe in the cure;
consequently, he suffered for several days.

I have said that dogs are numerous. These animals roam the streets by
day and night in packs and fight and tear at anyone or anything. Some
days before we arrived there were even more, but a few pounds of poison
had been scattered about the streets--which, by the way, are the worst
of any town I have ever entered--and the dog population of the world
decreased nine hundred. This is the Corumba version. Perhaps the truth
is, nine hundred feet, or, as we count, two hundred and twenty-five
dogs. In the interests of humanity, I hope the number was nine hundred
heads. Five carts then patrolled the streets and carried away to the
outskirts those dead dogs, which were there burnt. I, the writer, find
the latter part of the story hardest to believe. Why should a freeborn
Brazilian lift dogs out of the street? In what better place could they
be? They would fill up the holes and ruts, and, in such intense heat,
why do needless work?

Corumba is a typical Brazilian town. Little carts, drawn by a string of
goats or rams, thread their way through the streets. Any animal but the
human must do the work. As the majority of the people go barefooted,
the patriarchal custom prevails of having water offered on entering a
house to wash the feet. At all hours of the day men, women and children
seek to cool themselves in the river, which is here a mile wide, and
with a depth of 20 feet in the channel. While on the subject of
bathing, I might mention that a wooden image of the patron saint of the
town is, with great pomp, brought down at the head of a long
procession, once every year, to receive his annual "duck" in the water.
This is supposed to benefit him much. After his immersion, all the
inhabitants, men, women and children, make a rush to be the first to
dip in the "blessed water," for, by doing this, all their sins are
forgiven them for a year to come. The sick are careful to see that they
are not left in the position of the unfortunate one mentioned in the
Gospel by John, who "had no one to put him into the pool."

I have also known the Virgin solemnly carried down to the water's edge,
that she might command it to rise or fall, as suited the convenience of
the people. While she exercised her power the natives knelt around her
on the shingly beach in rapturous devotion. At such times the "Mother
of Heaven" is clothed in her best, and the jewels in her costume
sparkle in the tropical sun.

What the Nile is to Egypt, the Paraguay River is to these interior
lands, and what Isis was to the Egyptians, so is the Virgin to these
people. Once, when the waters were low, it is related the Virgin came
down from heaven and stood upon some rocks in the river bed. To this
day the pilot tells you how her footprints are to be clearly seen,
impressed in the stone, when the water is shallow. Strange that Mahomet
does not rise from his tomb and protest, for that miracle we must
concede to him, because his footprints have been on the sacred rocks at
Mecca for a thousand years. Does he pass it over, believing, with many,
that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery?

Whatever Roman Catholicism is in other parts of the world, in South
America it is pure Mariolatry. The creed, as we have seen, reads: "Mary
must be our first object of worship, Saint Joseph the second." Along
with these, saints, living and dead, are numberless.

A traveller in South Brazil thus writes of a famous monk: "There, in a
shed at the back of a small farm, half sitting, half reclining on a mat
and a skin of some wild animal, was a man of about seventy years of
age, in a state of nudity. A small piece of red blanket was thrown over
his shoulders, barely covering them. His whole body was encrusted with
filth, and his nails had grown like claws. His vacant look showed him
to be a poor, helpless idiot. Beside him a large wood fire was kept
burning. The ashes of this fire, strewn around him for the sake of
cleanliness, are carried away for medicinal purposes by the thousands
of pilgrims who visit him. Men and women come from long distances to
see him, in the full persuasion that he is a holy man and has
miraculous powers." [Footnote: "The Neglected Continent"] Romanism is
thus seen to be in a double sense "a moral pestilence."

The church is, of course, very much in evidence in Corumba, for it is a
very religious place. A _missa cantata_ is often held there, when a
noisy brass band will render dance music, often at the moat solemn
parts. The drums frequently beat until the worshippers are almost
deafened.

In the town of Bom Fim, a little further north, the priest runs a
"show" opposite his church, and over it are printed the words, "Theatre
of the Holy Ghost."

Think, O intelligent reader, how dense must be the darkness of Papal
America when a church notice, which anyone may see affixed to the door,
reads:

RAFFLE FOB SOULS.

A raffle for souls will be held at this Church on January 1st, at which
four bleeding and tortured souls will be released from purgatory to
heaven, according to the four highest tickets in this most holy
lottery. Tickets, $1.00. To be had of the father in charge. Will you,
for the poor sum of one dollar, leave your loved ones to burn in
purgatory for ages?

At the last raffle for souls, the following numbers obtained the prize,
and the lucky holders may be assured that their loved ones are forever
released from the flames of purgatory: Ticket 4l.--The soul of Madame
Coldern is made happy for ever. Ticket 762.--The soul of the aged
widow, Francesca de Parson, is forever released from the flames of
purgatory. Ticket 84l.--The soul of Lawyer Vasquez is released from
purgatory and ushered into heavenly joys. [Footnote: "Gospel Message."]

But, my reader asks, "Do the people implicitly believe all the priest
says?" No, sometimes they say, "Show us a sign." This was especially
true of the people living on the Chili-Bolivian border. The wily, yet
progressive, priest there made a number of little balloons, which on a
certain day of the year were sent up into the sky, bearing away the
sins of the people. Of course, when the villagers saw their sins float
away before their own eyes, enclosed in little crystal spheres, such as
_could not be earthly_, they believed and rejoiced. Yes, reader, the
South American priest is alive to his position after all, and even
"patents" are requisitioned. In some of the larger churches there is
the "slot" machine, which, when a coin is inserted, gives out _"The
Pope's blessing."_ This is simply a picture representing his Holiness
with uplifted hands.

The following is a literal translation, from the Portuguese, of a
"notice" in a Rio Janeiro newspaper:

FESTIVAL IN HONOR OF THE LADY OF NAZARETH.

"The day will be ushered in with majestic and deafening fireworks, and
the 'Hail Mary' rendered by the beautiful band of the----Infantry
regiment. There will be an intentional mass, grand vocal and
instrumental music, solemn vespers, the Gospel preached, and ribbons,
which have been placed round the neck of the image of St. Broz,
distributed.

"The square, tastefully decorated and pompously illuminated, will
afford the devotees, after their supplications to the Lord of the
Universe, the following means of amusement,-----the Chinese Pavilion,
etc.,-----. Evening service concluded, there will be danced in the
Flora Pavilion the _fandango a pandereta_. In the same pavilion a comic
company will act several pieces. On Sunday, upon the conclusion of the
Te Deum, the comic company will perform," etc.

The spiritual darkness is appalling. If the following can be written of
Pernambuco, a large city of 180,000 inhabitants, on the sea coast, the
reader can, in a measure, understand the priestly thraldom of these
isolated towns. A Pernambuco newspaper, in its issue of March 1st,
1903, contains an article headed, "Burning of Bibles," which says:

"As has been announced, there was realized in the square of the Church
of Penha, on the 22nd ult., at nine o'clock in the morning, in the
presence of more than two thousand people, the burning of two hundred
and fourteen volumes of the Protestant Bible, amidst enthusiastic
cheers for the Catholic religion, the immaculate Virgin Mary, and the
High Priest Leo XIII.--cheers raised spontaneously by the Catholic
people." [Footnote: Literal translation from the Portuguese.]

A colporteur, known to me, when engaged selling Bibles in a Brazilian
town, reports that the fanatical populace got his books and carried
them, fastened and burning, at the end of blazing torches, while they
tramped the streets, yelling: "Away with all false books!" "Away with
the religion of the devils!" A recent Papal bull reads: "Bible burnings
are most Catholic demonstrations."

Is it cause for wonder that the Spanish-American Republics have been so
backward?

I have seen a notice headed "SAVIOUR OF SOULS," making known the fact
that at a certain address a _Most Holy Reverend Father_ would be in
attendance during certain hours, willing to save the soul of any and
every applicant on payment of so much. That revelation which tells of a
Saviour without money or price is denied them.

Corumba is a strange, lawless place, where the ragged, barefooted night
policeman inspires more terror in the law-abiding than the professional
prowler. The former has a sharp sword, which glitters as he threatens,
and the latter has often a kind heart, and only asks "mil reis" (about
thirty cents).

How can a town be governed properly when its capital is three thousand
miles distant, and the only open route thither is, by river and sea, a
month's journey? Perhaps the day is not far distant when Cuyaba, the
most central city of South America, and larger than Corumba, lying
hundreds of miles further up the river, will set up a head of its own
to rule, or misrule, the province. Brazil is too big, much too big, or
the Government is too little, much too little.

The large states are subdivided into districts, or parishes, each under
an ecclesiastical head, as may be inferred from the peculiar names many
of them bear. There are the parishes of:

"Our Lady, Mother of God of Porridge."

"The Three Hearts of Jesus."

"Our Lady of the Rosary of the Pepper Tree."

"The Souls of the Sand Bank of the River of Old Women."

"The Holy Ghost of the Cocoanut Tree."

"Our Lady Mother of the Men of Mud."

"The Sand Bank of the Holy Ghost."

"The Holy Spirit of the Pitchfork."

The Brazilian army, very materially aided by the saints, is able to
keep this great country, with its many districts, in tolerable
quietness. Saint Anthony, who, when young, was _privileged to carry the
toys of the child Jesus_, is, in this respect, of great service to the
Brazilians. The military standing of Saint Anthony in the Brazilian
army is one of considerable importance and diversified service.
According to a statement of Deputy Spinola, made on the 13th of June,
the eminent saint's feast day, his career in the military service of
Brazil has been the following: By a royal letter of the 7th of April,
1707, the commission of captain was conferred upon the image of Saint
Anthony, of Bahia. This image was promoted to be a major of infantry by
a decree of September 13th, 1819. In July, 1859, his pay was placed
upon the regular pay-roll of the Department of War.

The image of St. Anthony in Rio de Janeiro, however, outranks his
counterpart of Bahia, and seems to have had a more brilliant military
record. His commission as captain dates from a royal letter of March
21st, 1711. He was promoted to be major of infantry in July, 1810, and
to be lieutenant-colonel in 1814. He was decorated with the Grand Cross
of the Order of Christ also, in 1814, and his pay as lieutenant-colonel
was made a permanent charge on the military list in 1833.

The image of St. Anthony of Ouro Preto attained the rank and pay of
captain in 1799. His career has been an uneventful one, and has been
confined principally to the not unpleasant task of drawing $480 a month
from the public treasury. The salaries of all these soldiery images are
drawn by duly constituted attorneys. [Footnote: Rio News]

Owing to bubonic plague, my stay in Corumba was prolonged. I have been
in the city of Bahia when an average of 200 died every day from this
terrible disease, so Brazil is beginning to be more careful.

Though steamers were not running, perspiration was. Oh, the heat! In my
excursions in and around the town I found that even the mule I had
hired, acclimatized as it was to heat and thirst and hunger, began to
show signs of fatigue. Can man or beast be expected to work when the
temperature stands at 130 degrees Fahrenheit in the shade?

As the natives find bullocks bear the heat better than mules, I
procured one of these saddle animals, but it could only travel at a
snail's pace. I was indeed thankful to quit the oven of a town when at
last quarantine was raised and a Brazilian steamboat called.

Rats were so exceedingly numerous on this packet that they would
scamper over our bodies at night. So bold were they that we were
compelled to take a cudgel into our berths! A Brazilian passenger
declared one morning that he had counted three hundred rats on the
cabin floor at one time! I have already referred to Brazilian
numbering; perhaps he meant three hundred feet, or seventy-five rats.

With the heat and the rats, supplemented by millions of mosquitos, my
Corumba journey was not exactly a picnic.

In due time we arrived again at Puerto Martinio, only to hear that our
former fellow-passenger, the assassin, had regained his freedom and
could be seen walking about the town. But then--well, he was rich, and
money does all in Brazil--yea, the priest will even tell you it
purchases an entrance into heaven! In worldly matters the people _see_
its power, and in spiritual matters they _believe_ it. If the priest
has heard of Peter's answer to Simon--"Thy money perish with thee,
because thou hast thought that the gift of God may be purchased with
money"--he keeps it to himself. How can he live if he deceives not?
Strange indeed is the thought that, three hundred years before the
caravels of Portuguese conquerors ever sailed these waters, the law of
the Indian ruler of that very part of the country read: "Judges who
receive bribes from their clients are to be considered as thieves
meriting death." And a clause in the Sacred Book read: "He who kills
another condemns his own self." Has the interior of South America gone
forward or backward since then? Was the adoration of the Sun more
civilizing than the worship of the Virgin?

When we got down into Argentine waters I began to feel cold, and donned
an overcoat. Thinking it strange that I should feel thus in the
latitude which had in former times been so agreeable, I investigated,
and found the thermometer 85 degrees Fah. in the shade. After Corumba
that was _cold_.




PART V.

URUGUAY


[Illustration]


THE LONE TRAIL.


  And sometimes it leads to the desert and the tongue swells
    out of the mouth,
  And you stagger blind to the mirage, to die in the mocking
    drouth.
  And sometimes it leads to the mountain, to the light of the
    lone camp-fire,
  And you gnaw your belt in the anguish of the hunger-goaded
    desire.

          --_Robert W. Service._



The Republic of Uruguay has 72,210 square miles of territory, and is
the smallest of the ten countries of South America. Its population is
only 1,103,000, but the Liebig Company, "which manufactures beef tea
for the world, owns nearly a million acres of land in Uruguay. On its
enormous ranches over 6,000,000 head of cattle have passed through its
hands in the fifty years of its existence." [Footnote: Clark.
"Continent of Opportunity."]

The republic seems well governed, but, as in all Spanish-American
countries, the ideas of right and wrong are strange. While taking part
in a religious procession, President Borda was assassinated in 1897. A
man was seen to deliberately walk up and shoot him. The Chief Executive
fell mortally wounded. This cool murderer was condemned to two years'
imprisonment for _insulting_ the President.

In 1900, President Arredondo was assassinated, but the murderer was
acquitted on the ground that "he was interpreting the feelings of the
people."

Uruguay is a progressive republic, with more than a thousand miles of
railway. On these lines the coaches are very palatial. The larger part
of the coach, made to seat fifty-two passengers, is for smokers, the
smaller compartment, accommodating sixteen, is for non-smokers, thus
reversing our own practice. Outside the harbor of the capital a great
sea-wall is being erected, at tremendous cost, to facilitate shipping,
and Uruguay is certainly a country with a great future.

The capital city occupies a commanding position at the mouth of the
great estuary of the Rio de la Plata; its docks are large and modern,
and palatial steamers of the very finest types bring it in daily
communication with Buenos Ayres. The Legislative Palace is one of the
finest government buildings in the world. The great Solis Theatre,
where Patti and Bernhardt have both appeared, covers nearly two acres
of ground, seats three thousand people and cost three million dollars
to build. The sanitary conditions and water supply are so perfect that
fewer people die in this city, in proportion to its size, than in any
other large city of the world.

The Parliament of Uruguay has recently voted that all privileges
hitherto granted to particular religious bodies shall be abrogated,
that the army shall not take part in religious ceremonies, that army
chaplains shall be dismissed, that the national flag shall not be
lowered before any priest or religious symbol. So another state cuts
loose from Rome!

The climate of the country is such that grapes, apricots, peaches, and
many other fruits grow to perfection. Its currency is on a more stable
basis than that of any other Spanish republic, and its dollar is
actually worth 102 cents. The immigrants pouring into Uruguay have run
up to over 20,000 a year; the population has increased more than 100
per cent in 12 years; so we shall hear from Uruguay in coming years
more than we have done in the past.




CHAPTER XIII.

SKETCHES OF A HORSEBACK RIDE THROUGH THE REPUBLIC.


I CROSS THE SILVER RIVER.

I left Buenos Ayres for Uruguay in an Italian _polacca_. We weighed
anchor one Sunday afternoon, and as the breeze was favorable, the white
sails, held up by strong ropes of rawhide, soon wafted us away from the
land. We sailed through a fleet of ships from all parts of the world,
anchored in the stream, discharging and loading cargoes. There, just
arrived, was an Italian emigrant ship with a thousand people on board,
who had come to start life afresh. There was the large British steamer,
with her clattering windlass, hoisting on board live bullocks from
barges moored alongside. The animals are raised up by means of a strong
rope tied around their horns, and as the ship rocks on the swell they
dangle in mid-air. When a favorable moment arrives they are quickly
dropped on to the deck, completely stupefied by their aerial flight.

As darkness fell, the wind dropped, and we lay rocking on the bosom of
the river, with only the twinkling lights of the Argentine coast to
remind us of the solid world. The shoreless river was, however,
populous with craft of all rigs, for this is the highway to the great
interior, and some of them were bound to Cuyaba, 2,600 miles in the
heart of the continent. During the night a ship on fire in the offing
lit up with great vividness the silent waste of waters, and as the
flames leaped up the rigging, the sight was very grand. Owing to calms
and light winds, our passage was a slow one, and I was not sorry when
at last I could say good-bye to the Italians and their oily food. Three
nights and two days is a long time to spend in crossing a river.

MONTEVIDEO.

Montevideo, the capital of Uruguay, is "one of the handsomest cities in
all America, north or south." Its population is over 350,000. It is one
of the cleanest and best laid-out cities on the continent; it has
broad, airy streets and a general look of prosperity. What impresses
the newcomer most is the military display everywhere seen. Sentry
boxes, in front of which dark-skinned soldiers strut, seem to be at
almost every corner. Although Uruguay has a standing army of under
3,500 men, yet gold-braided officers are to be met with on every
street. There are twenty-one generals on active service, and many more
living on pension. More important personages than these men assume to
be could not be met with in any part of the world.

The armies of most of these republics are divided into sections bearing
such blasphemous titles as "Division of the Son of God," "Division of
the Good Shepherd," "Division of the Holy Lancers of Death" and
"Soldiers of the Blessed Heart of Mary." These are often placed under
the sceptre of the Sacred Heart of Jesus as the national emblem.

Boys of seven and old men of seventy stand on the sidewalks selling
lottery tickets; and the priest, with black beaver hat, the brim of
which has a diameter of two feet, is always to be seen. One of these
priests met a late devotee, but now a follower of Christ through
missionary effort, and said: "Good morning, _Daughter of the Evil
One_!" "Good morning, _Father_," she replied.

The cemetery is one of the finest on the continent, and is well worth a
visit. Very few of Montevideo's dead are _buried_. The coffins of the
rich are zinc-lined, and provided with a glass in the lid. All caskets
are placed in niches in the high wall which surrounds the cemetery.
These mural niches are six or eight feet deep in the wall, and each one
has a marble tablet for the name of the deposited one. By means of a
large portable ladder and elevator combined, the coffins are raised
from the ground. At anniversaries of the death the tomb is filled with
flowers, and candles are lit inside, while a wreath is hung on the
door. A favorite custom is to attend mass on Sunday morning, then visit
the cemetery, and spend the afternoon at the bull-fights.

NATIVE HOUSES AND HABITS.

Uruguay is essentially a pastoral country, and the finest animals of
South America are there raised. It is said that "Uruguay's pasture
lands could feed all the cattle of the world, and sheep grow fat at 50
to the acre." In 1889, when I first went there, there were thirty-two
millions of horned cattle grazing on a thousand hills. Liebig's famous
establishments at Fray Bentos, two hundred miles north of Montevideo,
employs six hundred men, and kills one thousand bullocks a day.

Uruguay has some good roads, and the land is wire-fenced in all
directions. The rivers are crossed on large flat-bottomed boats called
_balsas_. These are warped across by a chain, and carry as many as ten
men and horses in one trip. The roads are in many places thickly strewn
with bones of dead animals, dropped by the way, and these are picked
clean by the vultures. No sooner does an animal lie down to die than,
streaming out of the infinite space, which a moment before has been a
lifeless world of blue ether, there come lines of vultures, and soon
white bones are all that are left.

On the fence-posts one sees many nests of the _casera_ (housebuilder)
bird, made of mud. These have a dome-shaped roof, and are divided by a
partition inside into chamber and ante-chamber. By the roadside are
hovels of the natives not a twentieth part so well-built or rain-tight.
Fleas are so numerous in these huts that sometimes, after spending a
night in one, it would have been impossible to place a five-cent piece
on any part of my body that had not been bitten by them. Scorpions come
out of the wood they burn on the earthen floor, and monster cockroaches
nibble your toes at night. The thick, hot grass roofs of the ranches
harbor centipedes, which drop on your face as you sleep, and bite
alarmingly. These many-legged creatures grow to the length of eight or
nine inches, and run to and fro with great speed. Well might the little
girl, on seeing a centipede for the first time, ask: "What is that
queer-looking thing, with about a million legs?" Johnny wisely replied:
"That's a millennium. It's something like a centennial, only its has
more legs."

After vain attempts to sleep, you rise, and may see the good wife
cleaning her only plate for you by rubbing it on her greasy hair and
wiping it with the bottom of her chemise. Ugh! Proceeding on the
journey, it is a common sight to see three or four little birds sitting
on the backs of the horned cattle getting their breakfast, which I hope
they relish better than I often did.

A WAKE, AND HOW TO GET TO HEAVEN.

During my journey I was asked: Would I like to go to the wake held that
night at the next house, three miles away? After supper, horses were
saddled up and away we galloped. Quite a number had already gathered
there. We found the dead man lying on a couple of sheepskins, in the
centre of a mud-walled and mud-floored room. "No useless coffin
enclosed his breast," nor was he wound in either sheet or shroud. There
he lay, fully attired, even to his shoes. Four tallow candles lighted
up the gloom, and these were placed at his head and feet. His clammy
hands were reverently folded over his breast, whilst entwined in his
fingers was a bronze cross and rosary, that St. Peter, seeing his
devotion, might, without questioning, admit him to a better world. The
scene was weird beyond description. Outside, the wind moaned a sad
dirge; great bats and black moths, the size of birds, flitted about in
the midnight darkness. These, ever and anon, made their way inside and
extinguished the candles, which flickered and dripped as they fitfully
shone on the shrunken features of the corpse. He had been a reprobate
and an assassin, but, luckily for him, a pious woman, not wishing to
see him die "in his sins," had sprinkled _Holy Water_ on him. The said
"Elixir of Life" had been brought eighty miles, and was kept in her
house to use only in extreme cases. The poor woman had paid the price
of a cow for the bottle of water, but the priest had declared that it
was an effectual soul-saver, and they never doubted its efficacy.
Around the corpse was a throng of women, and they all chattered as
women are apt to do. The men, standing around the door, talked of their
horse-races, fights or anything else. For some hours I heard no
allusion to the dead, but as the night wore on the prophetess of the
people came forth.

If my advent among them had caused a stir, the entrance of this old
woman caused a bustle; even the dead man seemed to salute her, or was
it only my imagination--for I was in a strangely sensitive mood--that
pictured it? As she slowly approached, leaning heavily on a rough,
thick staff, all the females present bent their knees. Now prayers were
going to be offered up for the dead, and the visible woman was to act
as interceder with the invisible one in heaven. After being assisted to
her knees, the old woman, in a cracked, yet loud, voice, began. "_Santa
Maria, ruega por nosotros, ahora, y en la hora de nuestra muerte!_"
(Holy Mary pray for us now, and in the hour of our death!) This was
responded to with many gesticulations and making of crosses by the
numerous females around her. The prayers were many and long, and must
have lasted perhaps an hour; then all arose, and mate and cigars were
served. Men and women, even boys and girls, smoked the whole night
through, until around the Departed was nothing but bluish clouds.

The natives are so fond of wakes that when deaths do not occur with
great frequency, the bones of "grandma" are dug up, and she is prayed
and smoked over once more. The digging up of the dead is often a simple
matter, for the corpse is frequently just carried into the bush, and
there covered with prickly branches.

THE SNAKE'S HISTORY.

I met with a snake, of a whitish color, that appeared to have two
heads. Never being able to closely examine this strange reptile, I
cannot positively affirm that it possesses the two heads, but the
natives repeatedly affirmed to me that it does, and certainly both ends
are, or seem to be, exactly alike. In the Book of Genesis the serpent
is described as "a beast," but for its temptation of Eve it was
condemned to crawl on its belly and become a reptile. A strange belief
obtains among the people that all serpents must not only be killed, but
_put into a fire_. If there is none lit, they will kindle one on
purpose, for it must be burned. As the outer skin comes off, it is
declared, the four legs, now under it, can be distinctly seen.

A GIRL'S NEW BIRTH AND TRANSLATION.

At Rincon I held a series of meetings in a mud hut. Men and women, with
numerous children, used to gather on horseback an hour before the time
for opening. A little girl always brought her three-legged stool and
squatted in front of me. The rest appropriated tree-trunks and
bullocks' skulls. The girl referred to listened to the Gospel story as
though her life depended upon it, as indeed it did! When at Rincon only
a short time, the child desired me to teach her how to pray, and she
clasped her hands reverently. "Would Jesus save _me_?" she asked. "Did
He die for me--_me_? Will He save me now?" The girl _believed_, and
entered at once into the family of God.

One day a man on horseback, tears streaming down his cheeks, galloped
up to my hut. It was her father. His girl was dead. She had gone into
the forest, and, feeling hungry, had eaten some berries; they were
poisonous, and she had come home to die. Would I bury her? Shortly
afterwards I rode over to the hovel where she had lived. Awaiting me
were the broken-hearted parents. A grocery box had been secured, and
this rude coffin was covered with pink cotton. Four horses were yoked
in a two-wheeled cart, the parents sat on the casket, and I followed on
horseback to the nearest cemetery, sixteen miles away. There, in a
little enclosure, we lowered the girl into her last earthly
resting-place, in the sure and certain hope of a glorious resurrection.
She had lived in a house where a cow's hide served for a door, but she
had now entered the "pearly gates." The floor of her late home was
mother earth; what a change to be walking the "streets of gold!" Some
day, "after life's fitful fever," I shall meet her again, not a poor,
ragged half-breed girl, but glorified, and clothed in His righteousness.

HOW I DID NOT LOSE MY EYES.

One day I was crossing a river, kneeling on my horse's back, when he
gave a lurch and threw me into the water. Gaining the bank, and being
quite alone, I stripped off my wet clothes and waited for the sun to
dry them. The day was hot and sultry, and, feeling tired, I covered
myself up with the long grass and went to sleep. How long I lay I
cannot tell, but suddenly waking up, I found to my alarm that several
large vultures, having thought me dead, were contemplating me as their
next meal! Had my sleep continued a few moments longer, the rapacious
birds would have picked my eyes out, as they invariably do before
tearing up their victim. All over the country these birds abound, and I
have counted thirty and forty tearing up a living, quivering animal.
Sometimes, for mercy's sake, I have alighted and put the suffering
beast out of further pain. Before I got away they have been fighting
over it again in their haste to suck the heart's blood.

A BACHELOR RABBIT.

The pest of Australia is the rabbit, but, strange to say, I never found
one in South America. In their place is the equally destructive
_viscacha_ or prairie dog--a much larger animal, probably three or four
times the size, having very low, broad head, little ears, and thick,
bristling whiskers. His coat is gray and white, with a mixture of
black. To all appearance this is a ferocious beast, with his two front
tusk-like teeth, about four inches long, but he is perfectly harmless.
The viscacha makes his home, like the rabbit, by burrowing in the
ground, where he remains during daylight. The faculty of acquisition in
these animals must be large, for in their nightly trips they gather and
bring to the mouth of their burrow anything and everything they can
possibly move. Bones, manure, stones and feathers are here collected,
and if the traveller accidentally dropped his watch, knife or
handkerchief, it would be found and carried to adorn the viscacha's
doorway, if those animals were anywhere near.

The lady reader will be shocked to learn that the head of the viscacha
family, probably copying a bad example from the ostrich, his neighbor,
is also very unamiable with his "better half," and inhabits bachelor's
quarters, which he keeps all to himself, away from his family. The food
of this strange dog-rabbit is roots, and his powerful teeth are well
fitted to root them up. At the mouth of their burrows may often be seen
little owls, which have ejected the original owners and themselves
taken possession. They have a strikingly saucy look, and possess the
advantage of being able to turn their heads right around while the body
remains immovable. Being of an inquisitive nature, they stare at every
passer-by, and if the traveller quietly walks around them he will smile
at the grotesque power they have of turning their head. When a young
horse is especially slow in learning the use of the reins, I have known
the cowboy smear the bridle with the brains of this clever bird, that
the owl's facility in turning might thus be imparted to it.

Another peculiar animal is the _comadreka_, which resembles the
kangaroo in that it is provided with a bag or pouch in which to carry
its young ones. I have surprised these little animals (for they are
only of rabbit size) with their young playing around them, and have
seen the mother gather them into her pouch and scamper away.

DRINKING WATER, SAINTS AND THE VIRGIN.

In Uruguay it is the custom for all, on approaching a house, to call
out, "Holy Mary the Pure!" and until the inmate answers: "Conceived
without sin!" not a step farther must be made by the visitor. At a hut
where I called there was a baby hanging from the wattle roof in a cow's
hide, and flies covered the little one's eyes. On going to the well for
a drink I saw that there was a cat and a rat in the water, but the
people were drinking it! When smallpox breaks out because of such
unsanitary conditions, I have known them to carry around the image of
St. Sebastian, that its divine presence might chase away the sickness.
The dress of the Virgin is often borrowed from the church, and worn by
the women, that they may profit by its healing virtues. A crucifix hung
in the house keeps away evil spirits.

The people were very _religious_, and no rain having fallen for five
months, had concluded to carry around a large image of the Virgin they
had, and show her the dry crops. I rode on, but did not get wet!

NO NEED OF THE DOCTOR OR VET.

"A poor girl got very severely burnt, and the remedy applied was a
poultice of mashed ears of _viscacha_. The burn did not heal, and so a
poultice of pig's dung was put on. When we went to visit the girl, the
people said it was because they had come to our meetings that the girl
did not get better. A liberal cleansing, followed by the use of boracic
acid, has healed the wound. Another case came under our notice of a
woman who suffered from a gathering in the ear, and the remedy applied
was a <DW64>'s curl fried in fat."

To cure animals of disease there are many ways. Mrs. Nieve boasted
that, by just saying a few cabalistic words over a sick cow, she could
heal it. A charm put on the top of the enclosure where the animals are
herded will keep away sickness. To cure a bucking horse all that is
necessary is to pull out its eyebrows and spit in its face. Let a lame
horse step on a sheepskin, cut out the piece, and carry it in your
pocket; if this can't be done, make a cross with tufts of grass, and
the leg will heal. For ordinary sickness tie a dog's head around the
horse's neck. If a horse has pains in the stomach, let him smell your
shirt.

A RACE FOR INFORMATION.

Uruguay is said to have averaged a revolution every two years for
nearly a century, so in times of revolutionary disturbance the younger
children are often set to watch the roads and give timely warning, that
the father or elder brother may effect an escape. The said persons may
then mount their fleetest horse and be out of sight ere the recruiting
sergeant arrives. Being one day perplexed, and in doubt whether I was
on my right road, I made towards a boy I had descried some distance
away, to ask him. No sooner did the youth catch sight of me than he set
off at a long gallop away from me; why, I could not tell, as they are
generally so interested at the sight of a stranger. Determined not to
be outdone, and feeling sure that without directions I could not safely
continue the journey, I put spurs to my horse and tried to overtake
him. As I quickened my pace he looked back, and, seeing me gain upon
him, urged his horse to its utmost speed. Down hill and up hill,
through grass and mud and water, the race continued. A sheepskin fell
from his saddle, but he heeded it not as he went plunging forward.
Human beings in those latitudes were very few, and if I did not catch
him I might be totally lost for days; so I went clattering on over his
sheepskin, and then over his wooden saddle, the fall of which only made
his horse give a fresh plunge forward as he lay on its neck. Thus we
raced for at least three miles, until, tired out and breathless, I gave
up in despair.

Concluding that my fleet-footed but unamiable young friend had
undoubtedly some place in view, I continued in the same direction, but
at a more respectable pace. Shortly afterwards I arrived at a very
small hut, built of woven grass and reeds, which I presumed was his
home. Making for the open door, I clapped my hands, but received no
answer. The hut was certainly inhabited--of that I saw abundant
signs--but where were the people? I dare not get down from my horse;
that is an insult no native would forgive; so I slowly walked around
the house, clapping my hands and shouting at the top of my voice. Just
as I was making the circuit for the third time, I descried another and
a larger house, hidden in the trees some distance away, and thither I
forthwith bent my steps. There I learned that I had been taken for a
recruiting sergeant, and the inhabitants had hidden themselves when the
boy galloped up with the message of my approach.

I FIND DIAMONDS.

  "For one shall grasp and one resign.
  One drink life's rue, and one its wine;
  And God shall make the balance good."

Encamped on the banks of the Black River, idly turning up the soil with
the stock of my riding-whip, I was startled to find what I believed to
be real diamonds! Beautifully white, transparent stones they were, and,
rising to examine them closely in the sunlight, I was more than ever
convinced of the richness of my find. Was it possible that I had
unwittingly discovered a diamond field? Could it be true that, after
years of hardship, I had found a fortune? I was a rich man--oh, the
enchanting thought! No need now to toil through scorching suns. I could
live at ease. As I sat with the stones glistening in the light before
my eyes, my brain grew fevered. Leaving my hat and coat on the ground,
I ran towards my horse, and, vaulting on his bare back, wildly galloped
to and fro, that the breezes might cool my fevered head. Rich? Oh, how
I had worked and striven! Life had hitherto been a hard fight. When I
had gathered together a few dollars, I had been prostrated with
malarial or some other fever, and they had flown. After two or three
months of enforced idleness I had had to start the battle of life
afresh with diminished funds. Now the past was dead; I could rest from
strife. Rest! How sweet it sounded as I repeated aloud the precious
word, and the distant echoes brought back the word, Rest!

I was awakened from my day dreams by being thrown from my horse! Hope
for the future had so taken possession of me that the present was
forgotten. I had not seen the caves of the prairie dog, but my horse
had given a sudden start aside to avoid them, and I found myself
licking the dust. Bather a humiliating position for a man to be in who
had just found unlimited wealth; Somewhat subdued, I made my way back
to my solitary encampment.

Well, how shall I conclude this short but pregnant chapter of my life?
Suffice it to say that my idol was shattered! The stones were found to
be of little worth.

  "The flower that smiles to-day,
   To-morrow dies;
  All that we wish to stay
   Tempts, and then flies."

A MAN WITH TWO NOSES AND TWO MOUTHS.

I was lost one day, and had been sitting in the grass for an hour or
more wondering what I should do, when the sound of galloping hoofs
broke the silence. On looking around, to my horror, I saw a _something_
seated on a fiery horse tearing towards me! What could it be? Was it
human? Could the strange-looking being who suddenly reined up his horse
before me be a man? A man surely, but possessing two noses, two mouths,
and two hare-lips. A hideous sight! I shuddered as I looked at him. His
left eye was in the temple, and he turned it full upon me, while with
the other he seemed to glance toward the knife in his belt. When he
rode up I had saluted him, but he did not return the recognition.
Feeling sure that the country must be well known to him, I offered to
reward him if he would act as my guide. The man kept his gleaming eye
fixed upon me, but answered not a word. Beginning to look at the matter
in rather a serious light, I mounted my horse, when he grunted at me in
an unintelligible way, which showed me plainly that he was without the
power of speech. He turned in the direction I had asked him to take,
and we started off at a breakneck speed, which his fiery horse kept up.
I cannot say he followed his nose, or the reader might ask me which
nose, but he led me in a straight line to an eminence, from whence he
pointed out the estancia I was seeking. The house was still distant,
yet I was not sorry to part with my strange guide, who seemed
disinclined to conduct me further. I gave him his fee, and he grunted
his thanks and left me to pursue my journey more leisurely. A hut I
came to had been struck by lightning, and a woman and her child had
been buried in the debris. Inquiring the particulars, I was informed
that the woman was herself to blame for the disaster. The saints, they
told me, have a particular aversion to the _ombu_ tree, and this daring
Eve had built her house near one. The saints had taken _spite_ at this
act of bravado, and destroyed both mother and daughter. Moral: Heed the
saints.

A FLEET-FOOTED DEER.

One day an old man seriously informed me that in those parts there was
a deer which neither he nor any other one had been able to catch. Like
the Siamese twins, it was two live specimens in one. When I asked why
it was impossible to catch the animal, he informed me that it had eight
legs with which to run. Four of the legs came out of the back, and,
when tired with using the four lower ones, it just turned over and ran
with the upper set. I did not see this freak, so add the salt to your
taste, O reader.

I SLEEP WITH THE RATS.

Hospitality is a marked and beautiful feature of the Uruguayan people.
At whatever time I arrived at a house, although a stranger and a
foreigner, I was most heartily received by the inmates. On only one
occasion, which I will here relate, was I grudgingly accommodated, and
that was by a Brazilian living on the frontier. The hot sun had
ruthlessly shone on me all day as I waded through the long arrow grass
that reached up to my saddle. The scorching rays, pitiless in their
intensity, seemed to take the energy from everything living. All
animate creation was paralyzed. The relentless ball of fire in the
heavens, pouring down like molten brass, appeared to be trying to set
the world on fire; and I lay utterly exhausted on my horse's neck, half
expecting to see all kindled in one mighty blaze! I had drunk the hot,
putrid water of the hollows, which did not seem to quench my thirst
any, but perhaps did help to keep me from drying up and blowing away.
My tongue was parched and my lips dried together. Fortunately, I had a
very quiet horse, and when I could no longer bear the sun's burning
rays I got down for a few moments and crept under him.

Shelter there was none. The copious draughts of evil-smelling water I
had drunk in my raging thirst brought on nausea, and it was only by
force of will that I kept myself from falling, when on an eminence I
joyfully sighted the Brazilian estancia. Hope then revived in me. My
knowing horse had seen the house before me, and without any guidance
made straight towards it at a quicker pace. Well he knew that houses in
those desolate wastes were too far apart to be passed unheeded by, and
I thoroughly concurred in his wisdom. As I drew up before the lonely
place my tongue refused to shout "Ave Maria," but I clapped my
perspiring hands, and soon had the satisfaction of hearing footsteps
within. Visions of shade and of meat and drink and rest floated before
my eyes when I saw the door opened. A coal-black face peeped out,
which, in a cracked, broken voice, I addressed, asking the privilege to
dismount. Horror of horrors, I had not even been answered ere the door
was shut again in my face! Get down without permission I dare not. The
house was a large edifice, built of rough, undressed stones, and had a
thick, high wall of the same material all around.

Were the inmates fiends that they let me sit there, knowing well that
there was no other habitation within miles? As the minutes slowly
lengthened out, and the door remained closed, my spirits sank lower and
lower. After a silence of thirty-five minutes, the man again made his
appearance, and, coming right out this time, stared me through and
through. After this close scrutiny, which seemed to satisfy him, but
elicited no response to a further appeal from me, he went to an
outlying building, and, bringing a strong hide lasso, tied it around my
horse's neck. Not until that was securely fastened did he invite me to
dismount. Presuming the lasso was lent me to tie out my horse, I led
him to the back of the house. When I returned, my strange, unwilling
host was again gone, so I lay down on a pile of hides in the shade of
the wall, and, utterly tired out, with visions of banquets floating
before my eyes, I dropped off to sleep.

Perhaps an hour afterwards, I awoke to find a woman, black as night,
bending over me. Not seeing a visitor once in three months, her
feminine curiosity had impelled her to come and examine me. Seemingly
more amiable than her husband, she spoke to me, but in a strange,
unmusical language, which I could not understand; and then she, too,
left me. As evening approached, another inmate of the house made his
appearance. He was, I could see, of a different race, and, to my joy, I
found that he spoke fluently in Spanish. Conducting me to the
aforementioned outhouse, a place built of canes and mud, he told me
that later on a piece of meat would be given me, and that I could sleep
on the sheepskins. I got the meat, and I slept on the skins. Fatigued
as I was, I passed a wretched night, for dozens of huge rats ran over
my body, bit my hands, and scratched my face, the whole night long.
Morning at last dawned, and, with the first streaks of coming day, I
saddled my horse, and, shaking the dust of the Brazilian estancia off
my feet, resumed my journey.

THE BURSTING OF A MAN.

A friend of mine came upon an ostrich's nest. The bird was not near,
so, dismounting, he picked up an egg and placed it in an inside pocket
of his coat. Continuing the journey, the egg was forgotten, and the
horse, galloping along, suddenly tripped and fell. The rider was thrown
to the ground, where he lay stunned. Three hours afterwards
consciousness returned. As his weary eyes wandered, he noticed, with
horror, that his chest and side were thickly besmeared. With a cry of
despair, he lay back, groaning, "I have burst!" The presence of the egg
he had put in his pocket had quite passed from his mind!

I FIND A LONE SCOTSMAN.

One evening after a long day's journey, I reached a house, away near
the Brazilian frontier, and was surprised indeed to see that the owner
was a real live Scotsman. Great was my astonishment and pleasure at
receiving such a warm Scotch welcome. He was eighty miles away from any
village--alone in the mountains--and at the sight of me he wept like a
child. Never can I forget his anguish as he told me that his beloved
wife had died just a few days before, and that he had buried
her--"there in the glen." At the sight of a British face he had
completely broken down; but, pulling himself together, he conducted me
through into the courtyard, and the difficulty of my journey was
forgotten as we sat down to the evening meal.
 Being anxious to hear the story of her who had presided at his
board, I bade him recount to me the sad circumstances.

She was a "bonnie lassie," and he had "lo'ed her muckle." There they
had lived for twelve years, shut out from the rest of the world, yet
content. Hand in hand they had toiled in joy and sorrow, when no rain
fell for eight long months, and their cattle died; or when increase was
good, and flocks and herds fat. Side by side they had stood alone in
the wild tangle of the wilderness. And now, when riches had been
gathered and comfort could be had, his "lassie" had left him, and "Oh!
he grudged her sair to the land o' the leal!" Being so far removed from
his fellows, he had been compelled to perform the sacred offices of
burial himself. Surrounded by kind hearts and loving sympathizers, it
is sad indeed to lose our loved ones. But how inexpressibly more sad it
is when, away in loneliness, a man digs the cold clay tomb for all that
is left of his only joy! When our dear ones sleep in "God's acre"
surrounded by others it is sad. But how much more heartbreaking is it
to bury the darling wife in the depths of the mountains alone, where a
strong stone wall must be built around the grave to keey the wild
beasts from tearing out the remains! Only those who have been so
situated can picture the solemnity of such a scene.

At his urgent request, I promised I would accompany him to the
spot--sanctified by his sorrow and watered by his tears--where he had
laid his dear one. Early the following morning a native servant saddled
two horses, and we rode in silence towards the hallowed ground. In
about thirty minutes we came in view of the quiet tomb. Encircling the
grave he had built a high stone wall. When he silently opened the gate,
I saw that, although all the pasture outside was dry and withered, that
on the mound was beautifully green and fresh. Had he brought water from
his house, for there was none nearer, or was it watered by his tears?
His greatest longing was, as he had explained to me the previous night,
that she should have a Christian burial, and if I would read some
chapter over her grave he would feel more content, he said. As with
bared heads we reverently knelt on the mound, I now complied with his
request. Then, for the first time in the world's history, the trees
that surrounded us listened to the Christian doctrine of a resurrection
from the dead. "It is sown in corruption, it is raised in
incorruption." And the leaves whispered to the mountains beyond, which
gave back the words: "It is sown a natural body, it is raised a
spiritual body."

Never have I seen a man so broken with grief as was that lone Scotsman.
There were no paid mourners or idle sightseers. There was no show of
sorrow while the heart remained indifferent and untouched. It was the
spectacle of a lone man who had buried his all and was left--

  "To linger when the sun of life,
   The beam that gilds its path, is gone--
  To feel the aching bosom's strife,
   When Hope is dead and Love lives on."

As we knelt there, I spoke to the man about salvation from sin, and
unfolded God's plan of inheritance and reunions in the future life. The
Lord gave His blessing, and I left him next day rejoicing in the Christ
who said: "I am the resurrection and the life; he that believeth in Me,
though he were dead, yet shall he live."

As the world moves forward, and man pushes his way into the waste
places of the earth, that lonely grave will be forgotten. Populous
cities will be built; but the doctrine the mountains then heard shall
live when the gloomy youth of Uruguay is forgotten.

THE WORD OF GOD CONTRASTED WITH THAT OF THE R. C. CHURCH.

"Thou shalt worship the Lord thy God, and Him only shalt thou
serve."--The Christ.

"Mary must be the first object of our worship, St. Joseph the
second."--Roman Catholic Catechism.

"Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image or any likeness of
anything that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or
that is in the water under the earth. Thou shalt not bow down thyself
to them, nor serve them, for I the Lord thy God am a jealous God."

"I most firmly assert that the images of Christ and of the mother of
God, ever virgin, and also of the other saints, are to be had and
retained, and that due honor and veneration are to be given to
them."--Creed of Pope Pius IV.

"My glory will I not give to another, neither my praise to graven
images."--Jehovah.

"The saints reigning together with Christ are to be honored and
invocated; ... they offer prayers to God for us... their relics are to
be venerated."--Creed of Pope Pius IV.

"For there is one God, and one mediator between God and men--the man
Christ Jesus."--Paul.

"Mary is everything in heaven and earth, and we should adore her."--The
South American Priest.

"Who changed the truth of God into a lie and worshipped and served the
creature more than the Creator, who is blessed for ever."--Paul

"All power was given to her."--Peter Damian, Cardinal of Rome.

"Search the Scriptures."--The Christ.

"All who read the Bible should be stoned to death."--Pope Innocent III.




PART VI.

MARIOLATRY AND IMAGE WORSHIP.


[Illustration: OUR LADY OF GUADALOUPE. Many legacies are left to this
image.]




CHAPTER XIV.

MARIOLATRY AND IMAGE WORSHIP.


Before the light of Christianity dawned on ancient Rome, the Pantheon
contained goddesses many and gods many. Chief of these deities to
receive the worship of the people seems to have been Diana of the
Ephesians, a goddess whose image fell down from Jupiter; the celestial
Venus of Corinth, and Isis, sister to Osiris, the god of Egypt. These
popular images, so universally worshipped, were naturally the aversion
of the early followers of Christ. "The primitive Christians were
possessed with an unconquerable repugnance to the use and abuse of
images. The Jewish disciples were especially bitter against any but the
triune God receiving homage, but, by a slow, though inevitable,
progression, the honors of the original were transferred to the copy,
the devout Christian prayed before the image of a saint, and the pagan
rites of genuflexion, luminaries, and incense stole into the Christian
Church." [Footnote: Gibbons' "Rome."]

Having Paul's masterly epistle to the Romans, in the first chapter of
which he so distinctly portrays man's tendency to change "the glory of
the uncorruptible God into an image made like to corruptible man," and
worship and serve the creature more than the Creator, who is blessed
forever, they were careful to remember that "God is a spirit," and to
be worshipped only in spirit. Peter, in his epistle to them, also wrote
of the One "whom having not seen ye love." As time wore on, however,
the original inclination of man to worship a god he could see and feel
(a trait seen all down the pages of history) asserted itself, and Mary,
the mother of Christ, took the place in the eye and the heart
previously occupied by her predecessors. [Footnote: Just as this work
goes to press, the dally papers of the world announce that the oldest
idol ever discovered has just been unearthed. The idol is a goddess,
who is holding an infant in her arms.] Being in possession of the Acts
of the Apostles, which plainly declares that Mary herself met with the
rest of the disciples "for prayer and supplication," and, knowing from
the four Gospels that no worship had been at first given to her, the
innovation was slow to find favor; but, in the year 431, the Council of
Ephesus decided that Mary was equal with God.

"After the ruin of paganism they were no longer restrained by the
apprehension of an odious parallel" in the idol worship. Symptoms of
degeneracy may be observed even in the first generations which adopted
and cherished this pernicious innovation. "The worship of images had
stolen into the Church by insensible degrees, and each petty step was
pleasing to the superstitious mind, as productive of comfort and
innocent of sin. But, in the beginning of the eighth century, in the
full magnitude of the abuse, the more timorous Greeks were awakened by
an apprehension that, under the mask of Christianity, they had restored
the religion of their fathers. They heard with grief and impatience the
name of 'idolaters,' the incessant charge of the Jews and Mahometans,
who derived from the Law and the Koran an immortal hatred to graven
images and all the relative worship." [Footnote: Gibbons' "Rome."]

It should be a most humiliating fact to the Romanists to have it
recorded as authentic history that "the great miracle-working Madonna
of Rome, worshipped in the Church of St. Augustina, is only a pagan
statue of the wicked Agrippina with her infant Nero in her arms.
Covered with jewels and votive offerings, her foot encased in gold,
because the constant kissing has worn away the stone, this haughty and
evil-minded Roman matron bears no possible resemblance to the pure
Virgin Mary; yet crowds are always at her feet, worshipping her. The
celebrated bronze statue of St. Peter, which is adored in the great
Church, and whose feet are entirely kissed away by the lips of
devotees, is but an antique statue of Jupiter, an idol of paganism. All
that was necessary to make the pagan god a Christian saint was to turn
the thunderbolt in his uplifted right hand to two keys, and put a
gilded halo around his head. Yet, on any Church holiday, you will see
thousands passing solemnly before this image (arrayed in gorgeous
robes, with the Pope's mitre on its head), and after bowing before it,
rise on their toes and repeatedly kiss its feet." [Footnote: Vickers'
"Rome"]

This method of receiving heathen deities as saints has been common all
over South America, and many Indian idols may be seen in the churches,
now adored as Roman Catholic saints, while the worship of Mary has
grown to an alarming extent. In Lima's largest church, printed right
over the chancel, is the motto, "Glory to Mary."

In Cordoba, the Argentine seat of learning--a city so old that
university degrees were being given there when the Pilgrim Fathers
landed on the shores of New England--charms, amulets and miniature
images of the Virgin are manufactured in large numbers. These are worn
around the neck, and are supposed to work great wonders. As may be
understood, the workers in these crafts stand up for Romanism, and are
willing to cry themselves hoarse for Mary, just as the people of old
cried for Diana of the Ephesians.

It is often told of the Protestant worker that he keeps behind his door
an image of the Blessed Virgin, and, when entering or leaving the
house, he spits in her face. No pains are spared to stamp out any
dissenting work, and the missionary is made a by-word of opprobrium. I
have repeatedly had the doors and windows of my preaching places broken
and wrecked. The priests have incited the vulgar crowd to hoot and yell
at me, and on these occasions I have been both shot at and stoned.

In Cordoba, there is a very costly image of Mary. Once every year it is
brought out into the public square, while all the criminals from the
state prison stand in line. By a move of her head she is supposed to
point out the one whom she thinks should be given his liberty.

From Goldsmith's "Rome" we learn that the _vestal virgins_ possessed
the power to pardon any criminal whom they met on the road to
execution. Thus does Romanism follow paganism. With the Virgin is often
the image of St. Peter. The followers of this saint affirm that they
are always warned, three days before they die, to prepare for death.
St. Peter comes in person and knocks on the wall beside their bed.

As the virgin, Diana, was the guardian of Ephesus, so the Virgin Mary
protects Argentina.

The Bishop of Tucuman, in a recent speech, said: "Argentina is now safe
against possible invasion. The newly-crowned _Lady of the Miracles_
defends the north, and the _Lady of Lujan_ guards the south."

A writer in _The Times of Argentina_ naively asks: "If these can safely
defy and defeat all comers, is there any further necessity for public
expenditure in military matters?"

South America groans under the weight of a mediaeval religion which has
little to do with spiritual life. In Spain and Portugal, perhaps the
two most deluded of European lands, I have seen great darkness, but
even there the priest is often good, and at least puts on a veneer of
piety. In South America this is not generally considered necessary.
Frequently he is found to be the worst man in the village. If you speak
to him of his dissolute life, he may tell you that he, being a priest,
may do things you, a layman, must not. In Spain, Portugal and Italy,
next door to highly enlightened countries, the priest cannot, for very
shame, act as he is free to do in South America. That great continent
has been ruled and governed only by Roman Catholics, without outside
interference, and Romanists in other lands do not, and would not,
believe the practices there sanctioned.

_"You ask about this nation and the Roman Catholic Church," said the
American Minister in one South American capital. "Well, the nation is
rotten, thanks to the Church and to Spain. The Church has taught lies
and uncleanness, and been the bulwark of injustice and wrong for 300
years. How could you expect anything else?" "Lies," said a priest to a
friend, who told the remark to us, "what do lies have to do with
religion." [Footnote: "Missions In South America," Robt. E. Speer.]

A missionary writes: "Recently the Roman bishop and several other
priests visited the various towns. It was a business trip, for they
charged a good price for baptisms, confirmations, etc., and carried
away thousands of dollars. In Santa Cruz a disgraceful scene was
publicly enacted in the church by the resident priest and one of the
visitors. Both saw a woman drop a twenty-five cent piece into the pan;
each grabbed for it, and then they fought before the people! The
village priest wanted me to take his photo, but he was so drunk I had
to help him put on his official robes. He was taken standing in the
doorway of the church beside an image of the Virgin."

"There wan a feast in honor of the image of the Holy Spirit in the
church. This is a figure of a man with a beard; beside it sits a figure
of Christ, and between them a dove. Great crowds of people attend these
feasts to buy, sell and drink. On a common in the town a large altar
was erected, and another image of the Holy Spirit placed, and before it
danced Indians fantastically dressed to represent monkeys, tigers,
lions and deer. Saturday, Sunday and Monday were days of debauchery.
Men, women and children were intoxicated; the jails were full, and
extravagances of all kinds were practised by masked Indians. The
vessels in the church are of gold and silver, and the images each have
a man to care for them. The patron saint is a large image of the
Virgin, dressed in clothing that cost $2,500."

Since returning to more civilized lands, I have been asked: But do they
really worship the Virgin, or God, through her? I answer that in
enlightened countries where Roman Catholicism prevails, the latter may
be true, but that in South America, discovered and governed by
Romanists from the earliest times, millions of people worship the
Virgin without any reference to God. She is the great goddess of the
people, and while one may see her image in every church, it is seldom
indeed that God is honored with a place--then He may be seen as an old
man with a long white beard. What kind of God they think He is may be
seen from the words of Missionary F. Glass: "I found a 'festa' in full
swing, called the 'Feast of the Divine Eternal Father,' and a drunken
crowd were marching round, with trumpets, drums and a sacred banner,
collecting alms professedly on His behalf." [Footnote: "Through the
Heart of Brazil"]

Mary is the one to whom the vast majority of people pray. They have
been taught to address supplications to her, and, being a woman, her
heart is considered more tender than a man's could be. During a drought
their earnest prayer for rain was answered in an unexpected way, for
not only did she send it, but with such accompanying violence that it
washed away the church!

In some churches the mail-box stands in a corner, and _"Letters to the
Virgin"_ is printed over it. There are always many young women to be
seen before the image of St. Anthony, for he is the patron of
marriages, and many a timid confession of love is dropped into the
letter-box, and it often happens that a marriage is arranged as a
result. The superstitious maiden believes that her letter goes directly
to the Virgin or to the saint in his heavenly mansion, and she has no
suspicion that it is read by the parish priest.

Saints are innumerable and their powers extraordinary. When travelling
in Entre Rios, I learned that St. Ramon was an adept in guiding the
path of the thunderbolt. A terrific storm swept across the country, and
a woman, afraid for her house, placed his image leaning against the
outside wall, that he might be able to see and direct the elements. The
tempest raged, and as though to show the saint's utter helplessness,
the end of the house was struck by lightning and set on fire. Little
damage was done, but I smiled when the indignant woman, after the storm
ceased, soundly thrashed the image for not attending to its duty.

While preaching in the town of Quilmes, a poor deluded worshipper of
Rome "turned from idols to serve the living and true God." He had been
a sincere believer in St. Nicolas, and implicitly believed the absurd
account of that saint having raised to life three children who had been
brutally murdered by their father and secreted in a barrel. He brought
me a picture of this wonder-worker tapping the barrel, and the little
ones in the act of coming out alive and well.

One familiar with Romanism in South America has said: "It is amazing to
hear men who have access to the Word of God and the facts of history
and of the actual state of the Romish world attempt to apologize for or
even defend Romanism. Romanism is not Christianity."

_The Church deliberately lies about the Ten Commandments, entirely
omitting the second and dividing the tenth in order to make the
requisite number. Can a Church which deceives the people teach them
true religion? Is the preaching of Mary the preaching of Christ?_
[Footnote: "Mission In South America," Robert B. Speer.]

_"There is not an essential truth which is not distorted, covered up,
neutralized, poisoned,_ and completely nullified by the doctrines of
the Romish system." [Footnote: Bishop Neely's "South America."]

A missionary in Cartago writes: "I must tell you about the annual
procession of the wonderful miracle-working image called 'Our Lady
Queen of the Angels,' through the principal streets of the town.
Picture to yourselves, if you can, hundreds of people praying,
worshipping, and doing homage to this little stone idol, for which a
special church has been built. To this image many people come with
their diseases, for she is supposed to have power to cure all. On a
special day of the procession, people receive pardon for particular
sins if they only carry out the bidding of 'Our Lady,' She seems to
order some extraordinary things, such as crawling in the streets with
big rocks on the head after the procession, or painting one's self all
the colors of the rainbow. One man was painted black, while others wore
wigs and beards of a long parasitic grass which grows from the trees.
Some were dressed in sackcloth, and all were doing penance for some sin
or crime. This little image was carried by priests, incense was burned
before her, and at intervals in the journey she was put on lovely
altars, on which sat little girls dressed in blue and green, with wings
of white, representing angels. Some weeks ago 'Our Lady' was carried
through the streets to collect money for the bull-fights got up in her
honor. She is said to be very fond of these fights, which are immoral
and full of bloody cruelty. This year the bulls were to kill the men,
or the men the bulls, and the awful drunkenness I cannot describe.
After this collection the bishop came over here, and is said to have
taken away some of the money. Soon after he died, and the people here
say that 'Our Lady' was angry with him."

From a recent list of prayers used in the Church of Rome I select the
following expressions:

 "Queen of heaven and earth, Mother of God,
  my Sovereign Mistress, I present myself before
  you as a poor mendicant before a mighty Queen.

 "All is subject to Mary's empire, even God
  Himself. Jesus has rendered Mary omnipotent:
  the one is omnipotent by nature, the other
  omnipotent by grace.

 "You, O Holy Virgin, have over God the authority
  of a mother.

 "It is impossible that a true servant of Mary
  should be damned.

 "My soul is in the hands of Mary, so that if
  the Judge wishes to condemn me the sentence
  must pass through this clement Queen, and she
  knows how to prevent its execution.

 "We, Holy Virgin, hope for grace and salvation
  from you.

 "Dispensatrix of Divine Grace."

How history repeats itself! How hard paganism is to kill! The ancient
Egyptians worshipped the "Queen of Heaven." Jeremiah, as far back as
587 B.C., prophesied desolation to Judah for having "burned incense to
the Queen of Heaven," and poured out "drink offerings" unto her, and
"made cakes to worship her."--Jer. xliv. 17-19.

Of the _wise_ men (Matthew ii.) we read: "And when they were come into
the house, they saw the young child with Mary, His mother, and fell
down and worshipped _Him_."

The South American version of Matthew 11:28, as may be seen carved on a
stone of the Jesuit Church in Cuzco, is: "Come to MARY, all you who are
laden with works, and weary beneath the weight of your sins, and _she_
will alleviate you," A literal translation of one of the prayers
offered to her reads: "Yes, beloved Mother! of thee I supplicate all
that is necessary for the salvation of my soul. Of whom should I ask
this grace but of Thee? To whom should a loving son go but to his
beloved Mother? To whom the weak sheep cry but to its divine
shepherdess? Whom seek the sick, but the celestial doctor? Whom invoke
those in affliction but the mother of consolation? Hear me then, Holy
Queen!"

The statues of the "Queen of Heaven" are often of great magnificence,
the dress of one which I know having cost $2,000. In the poor Indian
churches a bag of maize leaves, tied near the top to make a neck, and
above that an Indian physiognomy, painted with some vegetable dye,
serves the same purpose. The Bishop of La Serena, in Chili, has
received as much as $40,000 a year for keeping up the revered image in
that church, and these images _are worshipped_. Bequests are often left
to them, and a popular one will receive many legacies annually.

To be just, I must mention that in the arms of this "Mother of God"
there is, almost invariably, the child Jesus, but I must also state
that to tens of thousands this baby never grew to manhood, but went up
to heaven in His mother's arms. What a caricature of Christianity! Paul
said: "If Christ be not risen, then is our preaching vain, and your
faith is also vain." "Make Jesus a perpetual child, and Mariolatry
becomes lower than Chinese ancestral worship." If He, as a child, was
translated to heaven, then He never died and rose again. Mary is, to
them, the Saviour. The child Jesus happened to be her son, and, as she
was the great divine one, He, through her, partook of divinity. _La
Cruz_, a weekly paper, published in Tucuman, Argentina, in its issue of
September 3rd, 1899, had the following article:

THE BIRTH OF MARY.

"Chroniclers say that such was the fury that possessed the devils in
hell, at the moment of the birth of the Most Blessed Virgin, that they
nearly broke loose.

"There was sounded in heaven the first cannon shot in salutation of
such a happy event. Lucifer gave such a jump that he got his horns
caught in the moon, and there, it is said, he remained hanging all the
day, like the insignificant fellow he is, to the great amusement of the
blessed ones above, who laughed to see such an uncommon sight.

"The other devils, who could not jump so high, remained below screaming
and kicking!, and tearing their apology for beards, when not otherwise
occupied in scratching and biting and burning the unfortunate condemned
ones.

"And all this because... it had been foretold that... a woman, yes, a
woman, should one day bruise their heads... and, according to all
appearances, this was the woman... and that she was that bright and
morning star that announces the appearance of the Sun.

"Why should we not therefore rejoice, as the angels in heaven rejoiced,
over that moat happy event--the birth of Mary."

From this it is clear that in Tucuman, at any rate--and this, by the
way, is an important city, of at least 75,000 inhabitants--they believe
that Mary, not Christ, came to bruise the serpent's head. The Roman
Catholic translation of Gen. 3:15 is: "_She_ shall bruise the serpent's
head." Thus, the reader sees, at the very commencement of God's Word,
and in the very first promise of a Saviour for fallen men, the eyes of
seeking souls are turned by Romanists from the Creator to the creature.

How these words are understood by Romanists is plainly seen by the
pictures of Mary trampling on the serpent, which are found everywhere
in Romish lands.

Under pictures of the Virgin, circulated everywhere, are the words: "We
have seen the star and are come to adore her." The prayers of adoration
run, "To the holiest birth of Mary, that in death it may bring about
our birth to eternal glory. Ave Maria!" "To the anguish of Mary, that
we may be made predestined children of her sorrows. Ave Maria!"

The veneration with which the Virgin Mary is regarded, and the power
with which she is invested, are thus told by many a priest: "Once God
was so angry with the world that He determined to destroy it, and was
about to execute His design when Mary said to Him: 'Give me back first
the milk with which I fed you, and then you can do so!' In this way she
averted the impending destruction."

"Millions in Brazil look upon the Virgin Mary as their Saviour. A book
widely circulated throughout northern Brazil says that Mary, when still
a mere child, went bodily to heaven and begged God to send Christ,
through her, into the world. Further on it says that Mary went again to
heaven to plead for sinners; and at the close Mary's will is given,
disposing of the whole world, and God the Father, Son, and Holy
Spirit--the Trinity--act as the three witnesses to the will. How many
good Christians at home think Brazil is a Christian country?"
[Footnote: W. C. Porter.]

If the Bible were in circulation throughout South America, the populace
would be enabled to see that Christ is not the remorseless Judge but
the loving Saviour, and that it was He who purchased redemption for us.
Mary, according to Luke 1:47, was herself in need of a Saviour, and her
only recorded command was to do as He, the Christ, enjoined (See John
2:5). Not only Protestants, but not even Roman Catholics born in
Protestant countries, can understand what Romanism is in South America.

Christ said: "Search the Scriptures." Rome has done her best to destroy
the sacred volume. Papal bulls, said to have been _dictated by the Holy
Ghost_, have been issued by several Popes. Rome sometimes burned the
martyrs with a Bible hanging around their necks. Romanists showed their
hatred against Wycliffe, the first translator of the New Testament into
English, by unearthing his crumbling remains and burning them to ashes.
I have often seen the same spirit shown in South America.

A colporteur, writing of Scripture circulation in the Argentine, says:
"Many of the people are trying to get us ejected from the city. One, to
whom a Bible was offered, became so infuriated that he said: 'If it
were not such a public place? I would drown you in the river.'" A
missionary writes: "A young fellow called out after me, 'I renounce
you, Satan,' but as that is not my name, I did not turn back. During
the meeting on Sunday evening, the priest came riding up to the window,
and shouted that he would soon put a stop to us. Today he has had a
number of bills printed, warning his parishioners to have nothing to do
with us. To-night one of the bills was pasted on the door. Br. Arena
took it off, and no sooner had he the door shut than two shots were
fired, but they did no more harm than to pierce the door--thank God! I
have been informed that a number of young men will either beat or shoot
me, and that as I am the only one left they are going to make me leave,
too, by foul or by fair means. The following is a translation of the
priest's warning:

  "To the faithful of Candelaria. Beware.
  This parish has been invaded by one of the
  wicked sects of Protestantism, and, having the
  sacred duty of warning my parishioners, I give
  them to understand that should any one of
  them attend, even from mere curiosity, to hear
  the false and pernicious propaganda, or accept
  tracts or books that come from the propagators
  of Protestantism, he will be excommunicated
  from the true and only Church of Jesus Christ,
  Catholic, Apostolic, and Roman, wherein resides
  the infallible authority. Beware, then, oh, ye
  faithful, and listen to your parish priest, who
  advises you of the danger of your souls."

Yet with all this darkness and error, the majority are well contented,
and quite willing to obey "warnings" like this and the following,
published in _Los Principios_, of Cordoba:

  "It has come to our knowledge that there are
  amongst us various Protestant ministers, that
  distribute with profusion leaflets containing their
  erroneous doctrines and calumnies against the
  Catholic Church. Some of these leaflets and booklets
  have fallen into our hands, and in them we
  have found confirmation of what we say above.
  In one of these leaflets, for example, they treat
  as idolatry the worship that we Catholics tribute
  to the Mother of God. They treat as superstition
  the veneration they have in Rome for the holy
  staircase by which our Lord Jesus Christ went
  up to the judgment hall of Pilate. They combat
  the worship of images, relics, and things of that
  description.

  "Catholics ought to know that it is not lawful
  for them to read these leaflets, nor the Sacred
  Bible distributed by the Protestants, because it
  has been falsified by them, accommodating its
  texts to their errors. The Church has prohibited
  its children many times these pernicious readings.
  Let us reject, according to the counsel
  of St. Paul, these ravenous wolves that come in
  sheep's clothing, for they come to kill and to
  destroy souls, thrusting them into the ways of
  error, being separated from the true Church of
  Jesus Christ, from which Luther, Calvin,
  Zuinglio, Henry VIII, and others separated
  themselves, of whom Cobbell, the Protestant
  historian, himself has said: 'Never has the
  world seem gathered into one century so many
  perverse men as Luther, Zuiniglio, Calvin,' etc."


One acquainted with Spanish-American Romanism will smile at the
reference in the above article to the Bible having been falsified by
us. If the text of any version extant is compared with those which are
painted on the walls of the church in Celaya, there surely will be
found a great discrepancy. The following are translations:

"MARY, my mother, in thee I hope; save me from those that persecute
me."--Psalm vii. 1.

"Be thou exalted, O MARY, above the heavens, and thy glory above all
the earth."--Psalm lvii. 5.

'I will sing to MARY while I live."--Psalm civ. 33.

"Serve MARY with love, and rejoice in her with trembling."--Psalm ii.
11.

"Offer sacrifices of righteousness and trust in MARY."--Psalm iv. 5.

"Let everything that hath breath praise OUR LADY," etc., etc.

Protestant Christians pay almost all the entire cost of circulating
Roman Catholic translations of the Scriptures over the world. In the
versions of De Saci (French), Martini (Italian), Scio (Spanish),
Pereira (Portuguese), and Wuyka (Polish), we find in Matthew 3: 2, and
thirty-four other places, instead of "repent ye" the words, "do
penance," while in Matthew 3: 8, and some twenty other places, the word
that should be translated "repentance," is rendered _penance._ In the
following light way "penance" can be done, while "repentance" is not
thought of.

For sins against the Church the priest will often condemn the culprit
to wear a hideous garment for hours, or days, according to the gravity
of the offence, but this punishment can be worn by proxy. There are
always those who, for a consideration, will don the badge of disgrace.

What is called "Holy Week" gives proofs of the shallowness of Rome's
piety. Priests and people alike can weep, fast and faint, because their
God is suffering and dying; all traffic can stop because, they say,
"God has died"; but as soon as the death of Judas is announced, at noon
on Saturday, the noise of guns, pistols, squibs, etc., takes the place
of the death-like quiet that had reigned. After an hour or two silence
again prevails till Sunday morning, when all restraint is removed, and
people seem to make up for lost time. Drinking and kindred evils run
riot, and it is no uncommon thing on the Sunday night to see the people
drinking and dancing by the light of the candles they were burning to
their favorite virgin or saint.

In the large city of Lima, for centuries a very stronghold of image
worship, the interest in the Church has of late years been waning.
Perhaps one reason for this is the changing nature of the native
population of the city, for the deaths there exceed the births. Seeing
this falling away from the Church, the priests announced that they had
decided to send for the _Sacred Heart of the Virgin_, and trusted that
the presence of this holy relic would promote the more faithful
attendance of the flock. The _heart_ arrived and was with great
solemnity hung from the roof of the cathedral as the incentive to
piety. Thousands flocked into the sacred building with reverent awe.
The women gazed upon the heart with tearful eyes, and as they thought
of Mary's sufferings and goodness they were emulated to deeper acts of
love and piety. One day the wind blew very strongly through the open
doorway, and the _Sacred Heart_ began to sway to and fro. Getting more
and more momentum with every oscillation, the heart finally struck
against a sharp cornice, when lo--_all the sawdust fell out_ of the
canvas bag they had worshipped as the heart of flesh of their goddess.
How they reconciled the existence of the heart of the Virgin with their
belief that she ascended to heaven in a bodily form I do not pretend to
imagine. It may be remarked that this is surely Romanism corrupted.
Nay, it is rather Romanism developed.

"Andacilli is a hamlet, at which there is an image of the Virgin. Every
year pilgrims resort thither, and a great feast to the Virgin is
celebrated, the most important day being December 26th. During the last
few years there has been a falling off in the number of pilgrims,
especially those of the better class, but this last year the clerical
authorities have left no stone unturned in order to get together more
people than ever. Six bishops were advertised to come, and they were to
crown the Virgin with a crown which cost thousands of dollars. These
proceedings rouse an incredible enthusiasm in the people." [Footnote:
"Regions Beyond."]

Sometimes Mary's image is baptized in the river, while men and women
line the bank, ready to leap into the _holy water_ when she is lifted
out. Afterwards the water in which she was immersed is sold as a cure
for bodily ills. Sometimes the earth from under the building where she
is kept is also sold for the same purpose.

Imagine a church like that in Tucuru! "It consists of a palm-leaf hut,
with a bare floor and no furniture whatever. Round the sides stand
twelve life-size figures, made of canvas and stuffed with husks of
corn, which some one of the Indian worshippers has painted with the
features and dress of his own race. When I went in two women lay
prostrate on the floor, and one of them screamed in agonizing tones,
'My Lords, send the rod of your power to heal him!'--evidently praying
to these apostles on behalf of some sick relative. Here, once a year, a
priest celebrates mass, and when he last came he stuck a paper over the
entrance, which read: _Hoec est Domus Del et Porta Coeli_ (' This is
the House of God and the Gate of Heaven.') In San Jose we have the four
walls of a new church, consecrated to the 'Virgin,' where, recently, a
raffle was held on behalf of the projected edifice. As we enter, the
first thing seen is an inscription, professing to be a message to each
visitor from the Virgin, which says, 'My son, behold me without a
temple. Come, help in building it, and I shall reward thee with Eternal
Life." [Footnote: Report of the British and Foreign Bible Society.]

Christ said: "I give unto My sheep eternal life"; but the record of
that saying is jealously kept from them.

When the early colonists left Spain for the New World, they took with
them the Creed of Pius IV. That creed expressly states that the Bible
is not for the people. "Whoever will be saved must _renounce_ it. It is
a forbidden book."

"In 1850, when the Christian world was first being roused to the
darkness of South America, and philanthropic men were desirous of
sending Bibles there, Pope Pius IX. wrote an Encyclical letter in which
he spoke of Bible study as 'poisonous reading,' and urged all his
venerable brethren with vigilance and solicitude to put a stop to it.
Thus has South America been denied the revelation of God. The priest
has, because of this ignorance, been able to 'lord it over God's
heritage.'" [Footnote: Guiness's "Romanism and the Reformation."]

With an open Bible, Spanish America would have progressed as North
America has done. Without the enlightening influences of that Word,
behold the darkness! Could anything be more eloquent than the
prosperity of the land of the Pilgrim Fathers in proclaiming the value
of the open Bible?

Mr. Hudson Taylor, of the China Inland Mission, speaking on a recent
occasion, said: "I always pray for South America. It is a most needy
part of the world, and wants your prayers as well as mine. The workers
there have great difficulties to contend with, and of the same sort as
we have in China, from Roman Catholicism--the most God-dishonoring
system in the world. The heathen need your prayers, but the Roman
Catholic needs them ten times more. He is ten times as much in the dark
as the heathen themselves are."

The _Missionary Review of the World_ describes South America as
"Earth's darkest land." Do you not think, O reader, the words are most
truly applied?

"There are in South America eight hundred missionaries, men and women,
from Great Britain, the Continent of Europe, Canada and the United
States. In Canada and the United States there is on an average one
Protestant minister for every 514 persons. In South America each
missionary has a constituency of about fifty thousand, indicating a
need in proportion of population one hundred times as great as in the
Protestant countries of North America." [Footnote: Bishop Neely's
"South America."]

Yet, One called Jesus, whom we say we love, said: "Go ye into all the
world and preach the Gospel to every creature."










End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Through Five Republics on Horseback, by
G. Whitfield Ray

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