In Indian Mexico | Page 4

should
be summoned to the bedside of the dying. As the indians always knew
where to look for him, no time was lost.
Not only was the padre an archaeologist: he also gathered plants, birds,
and insects. When he was leaving Germany, his nephew, the
ten-year-old child of his sister, wished to accompany him. The parents
refused their permission, but the uncle gave the boy some money, and
they met each other in Frankfort and started on their journey. They
have been together ever since. The padre depends completely on the
younger man, whom he has fashioned to his mind. The plants, birdskins,
and insects have supplied a steady income. The plants cost labor;
insects were easier to get. All the indian boys in the parish were
supplied with poison-bottles and set to work; a stock of prints of saints,
beads, medals, and crucifixes was doled out to the little collectors,
according to the value of their trophies. To allay the suspicions of his
parishioners, the padre announced that he used the insects in making
medicines. One Sunday a pious old indian woman brought to church a
great beetle, which she had caught in her corn field four days before;
during that time it had been tied by a string to her bed's leg; she
received a medal. One day a man brought a bag containing some five
hundred living insects; on opening it, they all escaped into the house,
causing a lively time for their recapture.
The nephew, Ernst, had made a collection of eleven hundred skins of
Guatemalan birds. The padre and he have supplied specimens to many
of the great museums of the world, but the choicest things have never
been permitted to leave their hands.
The padre is a great success at getting into trouble. He fled from
Ecuador on account of political difficulties; his stay in Guatemala is the
longest he has ever made in one place. During his eight years there he
was successful; but he finally antagonized the government, was
arrested, and thrown into jail. He succeeded in escaping, fled to
Salvador, and from there made his way to the United States, where, for

a little time, he worked, unhappily, at San Antonio, Texas. A short time
since, the Archbishop of Oaxaca was in Texas, met the padre, and
promised him an appointment in his diocese. The padre was now on his
way to Oaxaca to see the prelate and receive his charge.
He was full of hope for a happy future. When he learned that we were
bound for the ruins of Mitla, he was fired with a desire to accompany
us. At Oaxaca we separated, going to different hotels. My party was
counting upon the company of Mr. Lucius Smith, as interpreter and
companion, to the ruins, but we were behind our appointment and he
had gone upon another expedition. This delighted the padre, who saw a
new light upon the path of duty. The archbishop had received him
cordially, and had given him a parish, although less than a day had
passed since his arrival. When the padre knew of our disappointment,
he hastened to his prelate, told him that an eminent American
archaeologist, with a party of four, wished to visit Mitla, but had no
interpreter; might he not accompany these worthy gentlemen, in some
way serving mother church by doing so? So strong was his appeal, that
he was deputed to say mass at Mitla Sunday, starting for his new parish
of Chila on the Monday following.
In the heavy, lumbering coach we left next morning, Saturday, for
Mitla. The road, usually deep with dust, was in fair condition on
account of recent rains. We arrived in the early afternoon and at once
betook ourselves to the ruins. At the curacy, we presented the
archbishop's letter to the indian cura, who turned it over once or twice,
then asked the padre to read it, as his eyes were bad. While the reading
proceeded, the old man listened with wonder, and then exclaimed,
"What a learned man you are to read like that!" As we left, the padre
expressed his feelings at the comeliness of the old priest's indian
housekeeper, at the number of her children, at the suspicious wideness
of his bed, and at his ignorance, in wearing a ring, for all the world just
like a bishop's. But he soon forgot his pious irritation amid those
marvelous ruins of past grandeur. In our early ramble he lost no
opportunity to tell the indians that he would repeat mass on the morrow
at seven, and that they should make a special effort to be present.

[Illustration: WITH THE PADRE IN MITLA RUINS]
[Illustration: THE PADRE, ERNST AND THE DOGS]
But as we wandered from one to another of the ancient