Without warning, on a Sunday night in 1773, the disaster came, and the proudest city in the New World was forever humbled. The roof of the cathedral fell; all the other churches were shaken to pieces; the great monasteries, which had been standing for centuries, and were thought to be useful for many centuries more, crumbled in an instant. The dead were never counted, and the wounded died from lack of relief. Those who escaped fled to the mountains, and the earthquake continued so violent that few returned to the ruins for many days. The volcano, whose single shudder shook down the accumulated grandeur of two hundred and fifty years, has since been almost idle, but is smoking constantly, and emitting sulphurous vapors which tell of the furnace beneath. As if satisfied with its moment’s work, it stands at rest, tempting man to try again to build another magnificent city, as firm as he can make it, for another test of strength. The people, like the dwellers over the buried Herculaneum, seem to have no fear of ruin or disaster, because, as very respectable citizens will tell you, the volcano which did the damage has since been blessed by a priest. [Illustration: FRAGMENT OF A RUINED MONASTERY.] In one of the old monasteries, established by the Franciscan Friars, is a tree from which four different kinds of fruit may be plucked at one time--the orange, lemon, lime, and a sweet fruit called by the Spanish the limone. It was a horticultural experiment of the Friars many hundred years ago, and still stands as a monument of their experimental industry. It was they who first introduced the cultivation of coffee from Arabia into these countries, and who discovered the use of that curious insect the cochineal. The latter used to be an extensive article of commerce, but the cheapness of the aniline dyes has driven it out of the market. Now it is cultivated only for local consumption, and is extensively used by the natives, whose cotton and woollen fabrics are gayly dyed in colors that will endure any amount of water or sunshine. Thirty years ago two million tons were exported annually, but now very little goes out of the country. [Illustration: JOSÉ RUFINO BARRIOS.] The progress of Guatemala during the last twelve years, and the advancement of the country towards a modern standard of civilization, has been very rapid, and it is due to the energy and determination of one man, José Rufino Barrios, who stands next, if not equal, to Morazan as a patriot and benefactor of his country. President Barrios studied the conditions of social and political economy in the United States and European nations, and used a remarkable amount of energy to introduce them among his own people. There has been no man in Central or South America with more progressive ideas or more ardent ambition for the advancement of his countrymen.