﻿VOLCANO-GIRDED 
  SALVADOR 
  

  

  A 
  Prosperous 
  Central 
  American 
  State 
  with 
  the 
  Densest 
  

   Rural 
  Population 
  in 
  the 
  Western 
  World 
  

  

  By 
  Harriet 
  Chalmers 
  Adams 
  

  

  Author 
  of 
  "Kaleidoscopic 
  La 
  Paz," 
  "Cuzco, 
  America's 
  Ancient 
  Mecca," 
  "In 
  French 
  Lorraine," 
  "Rio 
  de 
  

   Janeiro, 
  in 
  the 
  Land 
  oE 
  Lure," 
  etc., 
  in 
  the 
  National 
  Geographic 
  Magazine 
  

  

  SANTA 
  CEAUS 
  is 
  not 
  the 
  only 
  

   myth. 
  Cayenne 
  pepper 
  does 
  not 
  

   come 
  from 
  Cayenne. 
  Panama 
  hats 
  

   come 
  from 
  Peru 
  and 
  Ecuador; 
  Peruvian 
  

   balsam 
  comes 
  from 
  Salvador. 
  

  

  El 
  Salvador, 
  as 
  the 
  people 
  themselves 
  

   call 
  their 
  volcano-girded, 
  forest-fringed 
  

   country, 
  lies 
  on 
  the 
  west 
  coast 
  of 
  Central 
  

   America, 
  a 
  week's 
  sail 
  by 
  coastwise 
  

   steamer, 
  north 
  from 
  Panama. 
  

  

  The 
  only 
  country 
  between 
  Canada 
  and 
  

   Colombia 
  without 
  an 
  Atlantic 
  as 
  well 
  as 
  

   a 
  Pacific 
  seaboard, 
  Salvador 
  was, 
  until 
  

   recently, 
  the 
  smallest 
  of 
  the 
  American 
  

   republics 
  ; 
  now, 
  with 
  Honduras 
  and 
  Gua- 
  

   temala, 
  it 
  forms 
  the 
  new 
  Republic 
  of 
  Cen- 
  

   tral 
  America. 
  It 
  has 
  the 
  densest 
  rural 
  

   population 
  on 
  the 
  mainland 
  of 
  the 
  Amer- 
  

   icas, 
  with 
  1,400,000 
  people 
  occupying 
  an 
  

   area 
  no 
  larger 
  than 
  the 
  State 
  of 
  New 
  

   Jersey. 
  

  

  Coasting 
  Central 
  America, 
  I 
  wakened 
  

   one 
  morning 
  to 
  see, 
  through 
  my 
  cabin 
  

   window, 
  a 
  line 
  of 
  majestic 
  peaks 
  against 
  

   a 
  rose-tinged 
  sky. 
  In 
  the 
  foreground, 
  its 
  

   outline 
  nearly 
  lost 
  among 
  the 
  higher 
  pur- 
  

   ple 
  mountains, 
  rose 
  the 
  volcano 
  Izalco. 
  

   Even 
  as 
  I 
  looked, 
  a 
  cloud 
  of 
  smoke 
  shot 
  

   from 
  its 
  summit, 
  and 
  down 
  the 
  shadowy 
  

   slopes 
  swept 
  a 
  river 
  of 
  flame 
  with 
  radiat- 
  

   ing 
  tongues 
  of 
  fire. 
  

  

  Seafaring 
  men 
  called 
  Izalco 
  "The 
  

   Lighthouse 
  of 
  Salvador." 
  To 
  the 
  Salva- 
  

   dorians 
  this 
  active 
  volcano 
  was 
  known 
  

   formerly 
  as 
  "The 
  Safety 
  Valve." 
  They 
  

   believed 
  that 
  its 
  daily 
  eruption 
  assured 
  

   their 
  deliverance 
  from 
  severe 
  earthquake 
  

   and 
  devastating 
  lava 
  flow. 
  Then 
  came 
  the 
  

   fateful 
  day 
  when 
  Izalco 
  ceased 
  erupting, 
  

   followed 
  by 
  those 
  terrible 
  earthquakes 
  

   which 
  in 
  part 
  demolished 
  the 
  capital, 
  

   while 
  another, 
  heretofore 
  dormant, 
  vol- 
  

   cano 
  in 
  a 
  densely 
  populated 
  district 
  rock- 
  

   eted 
  forth 
  a 
  living 
  stream 
  of 
  fire, 
  which 
  

   completely 
  destroyed 
  towns 
  and 
  fincas 
  

   (estates), 
  and 
  for 
  miles 
  around 
  covered 
  

  

  that 
  season's 
  coffee 
  crop 
  with 
  a 
  fine 
  lava 
  

   dust. 
  

  

  On 
  my 
  first 
  visit 
  to 
  Salvador 
  we 
  disem- 
  

   barked 
  at 
  Acajutla, 
  an 
  open 
  roadstead, 
  the 
  

   ship's 
  anchorage 
  being 
  a 
  mile 
  out 
  at 
  sea. 
  

   Through 
  the 
  heavy 
  swell 
  we 
  went 
  ashore 
  

   in 
  a 
  launch, 
  being 
  hoisted 
  onto 
  the 
  pier 
  in 
  

   a 
  swinging, 
  crane-operated 
  basket 
  (see 
  

   page 
  190) 
  . 
  The 
  lift 
  was 
  cleverly 
  executed, 
  

   just 
  as 
  the 
  swell 
  passed 
  under 
  the 
  launch. 
  

  

  We 
  boarded 
  the 
  train 
  for 
  the 
  interior 
  

   and 
  an 
  hour 
  later 
  left 
  the 
  railroad 
  for 
  the 
  

   saddle, 
  accompanying 
  our 
  Salvadorian 
  

   host 
  to 
  his 
  finca, 
  which 
  lies 
  among 
  the 
  

   hills 
  of 
  the 
  balsam 
  coast, 
  2,000 
  feet 
  above 
  

   sea-level. 
  The 
  house 
  of 
  the 
  estate 
  is 
  set 
  

   in 
  a 
  magnificent 
  forest 
  of 
  giant 
  balsam- 
  

   trees, 
  whose 
  trunks 
  bear 
  scars 
  made 
  by 
  a 
  

   pre-Columbian 
  people, 
  who 
  tapped 
  them 
  

   then 
  for 
  the 
  scented 
  balm 
  in 
  much 
  the 
  

   same 
  method 
  employed 
  today. 
  

  

  how 
  Salvador's 
  balsam 
  received 
  its 
  

   peruvian 
  name 
  

  

  In 
  order 
  to 
  avoid 
  the 
  perilous 
  passage 
  

   around 
  Cape 
  Horn, 
  cargoes, 
  in 
  Colonial 
  

   days, 
  were 
  unloaded 
  at 
  Panama 
  and 
  

   transported 
  across 
  the 
  Isthmus 
  for 
  ship- 
  

   ment 
  in 
  other 
  vessels 
  to 
  Spain. 
  Peru 
  was 
  

   then 
  the 
  best 
  known 
  of 
  the 
  New 
  World 
  

   lands, 
  and, 
  in 
  the 
  European 
  mind. 
  Cen- 
  

   tral 
  American 
  balsam, 
  which 
  came 
  

   quickly 
  into 
  favor 
  for 
  the 
  healing 
  of 
  

   wounds, 
  somehow 
  became 
  confused 
  with 
  

   Peruvian 
  bark, 
  another 
  newly 
  discovered 
  

   remedy; 
  hence 
  to 
  this 
  day 
  it 
  is 
  known 
  as 
  

   Peruvian 
  balsam. 
  

  

  The 
  balsam-tree, 
  one 
  of 
  the 
  most 
  beau- 
  

   tiful 
  of 
  the 
  tropical 
  forest, 
  is 
  cousin 
  to 
  

   the 
  acacia. 
  It 
  grows 
  rather 
  isolated 
  from 
  

   its 
  neighbors, 
  even 
  from 
  its 
  kind, 
  its 
  

   graceful 
  branches 
  high 
  above 
  the 
  ground. 
  

   Native 
  to 
  the 
  west 
  coast 
  of 
  Central 
  

   America, 
  it 
  has 
  been 
  exploited 
  only 
  in 
  

   Salvador, 
  where 
  it 
  grows 
  in 
  a 
  limited 
  

  

  189 
  

  

  