Inez | Page 7

to the south, the luxuriant valley of the stream. The streets were narrow,
and wound with a total disregard of the points of the compass. Could a
stranger have been placed blindfold in one of them, and then allowed to
look about him, the flat roofs and light appearance of most of the
houses would have forced him to declare that he had entered a tropical
town of the far east.
Many of the buildings were of musquit pickets, set upright in the
ground, lashed together with strips of hide, and thatched with the tule
before mentioned. There were scarce three plank-floors in the town; by
far the greater number being composed of layers of pebbles, lime, and
sand, rolled with a heavy piece of timber till quite compact; daily
sprinkling was found necessary, however, to keep down the dust,
produced by constant friction.
The wealthy inhabitants built of sun-dried bricks, overcast with a kind
of stucco. Yet, unfortunately, the plastering art died with the
Montezumas, for the most vivid imagination failed to convert this
rough coating into the "silver sheen" which so dazzled Cortes's little
band. The reader will exclaim, "I can fancy no beauty from so prosy a
description. Thatched roofs and dirt floors, how absurd!"
Although a strict analysis might prove detrimental, I assure you the tout
ensemble was picturesque indeed.

"Italia! oh Italia! thou who hast The fatal gift of beauty."
Art rivaled here. Thy gorgeous skies have floated hither, and hover like
a halo round the town. The sun had set; the glowing tints faded fast, till
of the brilliant spectacle naught remained save the soft roseate hue
which melted insensibly into the deep azure of the zenith. Quiet seemed
settling o'er mountain and river, when, with a solemn sweetness, the
vesper bells chimed out on the evening air. Even as the Moslem kneels
at sunset toward the "Holy City," so punctiliously does the devout
papist bend for vesper prayers. Will you traverse with me the crooked
streets, and stand beneath the belfry whence issued the holy tones?
This ancient edifice was constructed in 1692. It fronted the Plaza, and
was a long, narrow building, flanked, as it were, by wings lower than
the main apartment, and surmounted by a dome, in which were five or
six bells. This dome or belfry was supported by pillars, and in the
intervening openings were placed the bells. The roof was flat, and the
dark green and gray moss clung along the sides. The interior presented
a singular combination of art and rudeness; the seats were of unpainted
pine, and the cement floor between was worn irregularly by the knees
of devout attendants. The railing of the altar was of carved mahogany,
rich and beautiful. Over this division of the long room hung a silken
curtain, concealing three niches, which contained an image of the
"Virgin," the "Child," and in the center one, a tall gilt cross. Heavy
silver candlesticks were placed in front of each niche, and a dozen
candles were now burning dimly. A variety of relics, too numerous to
mention, were scattered on the altar, and in addition, several silver
goblets, and a massive bowl for holding "holy water." A few tin
sconces, placed against the wall, were the only provision for lighting
that dark, gloomy church, and dreary enough it looked in the twilight
hour. About a dozen devotees were present, all kneeling on the damp,
hard floor. The silk curtain which concealed the altar was drawn aside,
with due solemnity, by two boys habited in red flannel petticoats, over
which hung a loose white slip. The officiating priest was seen kneeling
before the altar, with his lips pressed to the foot of the cross. He
retained his position for several moments, then rising, conducted the
ceremonies in a calm, imposing manner. When these were concluded,

and all had departed save the two boys, who still knelt before the
Virgin, he beckoned them to him, and speaking a few words in Spanish,
ended by pointing to the door and uttering, emphatically, "Go."
Crossing themselves as they passed the images, they disappeared
through a side door, and the priest was left alone.
CHAPTER V.
* * * "He was a man Who stole the livery of the court of heaven To
serve the devil in; in Virtue's guise, Devoured the widow's house and
orphan's bread; In holy phrase, transacted villanies That common
sinners durst not meddle with."
POLLOK.
In years, he could not have exceeded twenty-five, yet the countenance
was that of one well versed in intrigue. The cast was Italian--the crisp
black hair, swarthy complexion, and never-to-be-mistaken eyes. A
large amount of Jesuit determination was expressed in his iris, blended
with cunning, malignity, and fierceness. The features were prominent
particularly the nose; the lips finely cut,