DESCENT FROM THE CROSS. 213 



driven through the hands and feet, the ladders taken 

 away, and thus the figure of Christ was nailed to the 

 cross. 



This over, we left the church, and passed two or three 

 hours in visiting. The white population was small, but 

 equal in character to any in the republic ; and there was 

 hardly a respectable family that was not afflicted by the 

 outrage of Carrera. We knew nothing of the effect of 

 this enormity until we entered domestic circles. The 

 distress of women whose nearest connexions had been 

 murdered or obliged to fly for their lives, and then wan- 

 dering they knew not where, those only can realize who 

 can appreciate woman's affection. 



I was urged to visit the widow of Molina. Her hus- 

 band was but thirty-five, and his death under any cir- 

 cumstances would have been lamented, even by political 

 enemies. I felt a painful interest in one who had lived 

 through such a scene, but at the door of her house I 

 stopped. I felt that a visit from a stranger must be an 

 intrusion upon her sorrows. 



In the afternoon we were again seated with the mu- 

 nicipality in the church, to behold the descent from the 

 cross. The spacious building was thronged to suffoca- 

 tion, and the floor was covered by a dense mass of 

 kneeling women, with turbaned headdresses, and cry- 

 ing children on their backs, their imaginations excited 

 by gazing at the bleeding figure on the cross ; but among 

 them all I did not see a single interesting face. A priest 

 ascended the pulpit, thin and ghastly pale, who, in a 

 voice that rang through every part of the building, 

 preached emphatically a passion sermon. Few of the 

 Indians understood even the language, and at times the 

 cries of children made his words inaudible ; but the 

 thrilling tones of his voice played upon every chord in 



