POPAYAN AND THE CERRO MUNCHIQUE 27 



square towers, and hourly call the faithful to prayer in 

 monotonous cadence. The cathedral was completed in 

 1752 after many years' work. In one of the streets a de- 

 lightful view may be had of three successive chapels, one 

 above the other, and of the streams of pious penitents 

 wending their way up the rocky path. There are also the 

 overgrown ruins of a house of worship, but I could never 

 quite decide whether the edifice had fallen into decay or 

 whether the medley piles of bricks and rubbish between 

 the four crumbling walls were still waiting to be placed in 

 position. The streets, crooked and narrow, are paved with 

 cobblestones. The buildings are of the old adobe type, 

 one-story and whitewashed, with red-tile or sod roofs. 

 Glass is not used except in the churches, but the windows 

 are heavily barred. Recently a few modern brick struc- 

 tures have been erected. A look into the corridors and 

 inner courts, of which there may be several in one house, 

 conveys an insight into the domestic life of the people. 

 The front courts are very attractive with their flowers, 

 shrubbery, and trees, but the rear ones are anything but 

 inviting, the dungeon-like enclosures reminding one of the 

 stories of atrocities and persecutions carried on here in the 

 turbulent times of the Spanish Inquisition. 



On an average, the people are of a higher class, both in- 

 tellectually and physically, than in most Colombian cities 

 of equal size; comparatively few negroes are seen, and the 

 good health and bright looks of the inhabitants are the 

 natural result of a cool climate and pure mountain air. 



One day, at noon, as I was photographing in the vicinity 

 of Popayan, after having ridden perhaps five or six miles 

 from the city, I was accosted by an elderly woman who 

 invited me to stop at her humble cabin, where she had pre- 

 pared a really palatable lunch. Her reason for doing this 

 was that she had recognized me as a foreigner. During the 

 course of the meal she tearfully related that she had had 

 a son, of about my own age, who had gone to the States 

 many years before. Had I met him, and could I give her 



