carried my camera out to the distant hill, from which I not only brought away a picture of the church, but also chose that position for a view of the city, after patiently waiting for the clouds to roll away from the volcanoes of Fuego and Agua. The church itself seems more a fortress than a temple of the Prince of Peace. The heavy gates stood ajar, and we entered the courtyard of two centuries agone. In the midst stood a round tower, seemingly solid, and decorated by a fillet carved with cherubim in low relief. Within the dark church all was still and deserted; only the graves beneath the pavement of tombstones were tenanted. A curtain hung before the image at the altar, and a carefully written notice requested the visitor not to uncover the Virgin without permission of the sacristan. In the bell-tower hung a bell with the date 1748,—twenty-eight years before the city was built within its sound, when the heavy, awkward burden must have been brought with so much difficulty into this lonely valley. Two others, with the painfully modern date of 1872, hung by its side. [Illustration: Church of the Carmen.] [Illustration] We wasted the whole morning in a futile attempt to call on the President. His house was a large one-story building at the corner of the Plaza, not distinguishable from its surroundings except by the guard of soldiers at the gateway to its interior courtyard. The corporal in charge refused to take my card in, telling several falsehoods as to the whereabouts of the President his master; but at last a superior officer arrived, who at once ordered the fellow to take the card, and we were soon ushered, without further ceremony, into the bedroom of the Chief of the State. It is the custom in this country to arrange the chairs in a reception-room on either side of a sofa and at right angles to it; and the host is expected to sit on the sofa and entertain his guests on either hand. President Barrios occupied this place of honor when I entered; but as we conversed he moved about until we sat side by side. He had not forgotten our interview at Totonicapan, and was affable, seeming to understand our wishes perfectly. He said we should have all we asked for, and called an officer to conduct us to the Department of the Interior, where Señor Lainfiesta, the Secretario de Estado en el Despacho de Fomento, also promised to expedite our business. Some days later, while discussing the resources of Guatemala with the Minister of Foreign Relations, I spoke incidentally of the bad arrangement of the Guatemalan exhibit at Boston in the International Exhibition of 1883; whereupon the minister asked me to accompany him to the President and acquaint him with the matter. We went at once,—simply across the street; and it was gratifying to see the stupid soldiers and the insolent corporal jump up and salute the cabinet officer as we passed in unannounced. The President’s room was full of disorder,—articles of daily use, with books, guitars, newspapers, all