Guatemala was than Mexico; he could not understand why any man of sense
should waste his time in Mexico, a land so large that a dozen students
could not begin to solve its problems, while Guatemala, full of
interesting ruins and crowded with attractive Indians, was of such size
that one man's lifetime could count for something. His tales of indian
towns, life, dress, customs, kindled enthusiasm; but it was only after
thinking over the Mixes, that I decided to make a journey to Guatemala.
The padre, himself, could not accompany me, being a political refugee,
but he had told me Ernst should go with me. After three months'
consideration my plan was made. We would start from Oaxaca overland via
the Mixes country; we would everywhere keep in the mountains; in Chiapas
we would completely avoid the usual highway, hot and dusty, near the
coast; in Guatemala itself, we would go by Nenton, Huehuetenango and
Nibaj. This did not suit the padre: he had had in mind a journey all
rail and steamer; and friends, long resident in Mexico, shook their
heads and spoke of fatigues and dangers. But I was adamant; the Mixes
drew me; we would go overland, on horse, or not at all.

When the Padre left Chila, he took a letter of recommendation from the
Archbishop of Oaxaca to the Bishop of Vera Cruz at Jalapa. By him,
the padre was located at Medellin, a few miles from Vera Cruz itself.
Thither I journeyed to join Ernst and make the final preparations for
the journey. Ernst met me at the station at 6:30 in the evening and we
stayed the night in the hot, mosquito-tortured, plague-stricken city.
Leaving at eight o'clock in the morning we were at Medellin in an hour.
Our journey was through low, swampy ground on which the chief growth was
of palm. The padre, whom we had not seen since we parted at Oaxaca, met
us at the station and took us at once to his house. The town is small,
the population a miserable mixture of black, white, and indian elements.
Few of the couples living there have been legally married. The parish is