At the Potrero a church, built by the first Jesuits in this country, still remains, and is used for devotion by the Indians, although roofless and over two hundred years old. Standing near the ruined door, and looking in, one sees an altar surmounted by a cross and a scaffolding of flowers. Above this is one of the most beautiful pictures ever seen in such a peculiar framing. The roofless old church reveals the most magnificent castellated cliffs to be seen along the Batopilas River for many miles. Taking the tops of the battlements, which rise thousands of feet in sheer altitude in many places, so that they will fall just below the top of the church door, thus leaving a little streak of blue sky between, and viewing the scene as framed by the rest of the church, the observer has a picture before him that would make the reputation of any artist who could transfer it to canvas with reasonable ability. Near by was the primitive belfry, two sticks set in the ground, and the bell, an old bronze one, hung from a cross-piece between them. Once each year a priest visited this place, upon which occasion a great festival was held. Indian runners were sent out into the mountains for many miles around, to induce the timid Tarahumaris to come in. Here all the civilized and semi-civilized brought their children to be christened, and they again induced many of the wilder Indians of the cliffs and caves to join them. In this way the priests reach the wilder ones, and sometimes conversions are made among them. This is their only method of approaching the uncivilized natives, through the medium of those not quite so wild, who allow them to visit their homes in the cliffs and crags and hold a limited intercourse. From the steep cliffs above the resort, the wild Tarahumaris can look down on the strange doings of their more civilized brothers in the little valley below. This they told us was often done, but the instances were quite rare in which the very wild ones had been coaxed down from the crags above. I have been asked what chance a missionary would have among these people and how he could best reach them. Where the patient priest or Jesuit fails to penetrate with all the assistance he can derive from those of his own faith who are kinsmen of the people to be approached, it would seem indeed a difficult task for those of other beliefs. I was told that these people, the semi-civilized Tarahumaris, are particularly fond of colored prints, and any brightly colored picture is to them an object of veneration. Often old copies of _Puck_ or _Judge_ drift down here, passing from the hands of miners to Mexicans and thence to the Indians. These they preserve and worship as saints, and to them they offer up their simple prayers.