As we approached the lower valley the sun broke through the clouds and was very hot; but when we came to the wide gravel bed of the sometimes broad river above which Chiquimula stands, the heat was most unbearable. On a plateau to the right stood the ruins of an immense church, while far away to the left stretched a fertile valley. We rode up hill into the town at eleven o’clock, and, as usual, found no posada. We did, however, find good food and a very comfortable room at the large mercantile house of Señora Anacleta Nufio de Monasterio (this was the mark on her china). The house was large, and in the patio were orange-trees and a fountain of good water. The important matter of lodgings settled, we went to church, finding it out of repair and dingy. To put ourselves in thorough moral order, I decided to offer here at this ecclesiastical centre two tallow candles,—a penance we wished to perform at Quezaltepeque, but could find no candles for sale near at hand. I placed the candles, lighted, in silver candlesticks, which were empty on the grand altar, and sat down on the doorstep to see what would happen. Soon an attendant came and asked if I had offered the candles; and on being assured that I had, exclaimed “Buen!” in a very satisfied tone; nevertheless he took the poor candles from their place of honor and put them before an empty saint-case. Well, the saints above were perhaps as well satisfied; but Frank here below was rather indignant, and declared he would never offer a candle again. But what else could we expect for making light of the candles? We called on the Jefe, Don Ezequel Palma, a military man past middle age, who was very polite and who sent his private secretary, Dr. Domingo Estrada, to show us the lions of Chiquimula. We rode first to the ruins of the ancient town where we had seen the remains of the church in the morning. The same earthquake that in 1773 destroyed Antigua shattered this town and caused the removal of the inhabitants some distance to the westward. The old site was a better one; but the people moved away to save the trouble of clearing up the ruins. The church was two hundred and fifty feet long, and seventy-five wide. The immense walls, ten feet thick, were still standing; but the vaulted roof blocked the interior with its fragments. The ruins of this once holy place were now used as a cemetery, the rank in this world of the occupier determining the distance of each grave from the altar-end; while outside were the neglected ashes of the commoners. The brambles and thorny plants made the locality unpleasant for living beings, and we got our horses away as soon as possible.