After This Vow They Go To The
Forest, Taking A Paper On Which The Priest Has Written Their Name.
This They Pin With A Thorn On The Mate Plant, And Leave It For Her To
Read.
Thus she secures her devotees.
Roman Catholicism is not "Semper Idem," but adapts itself to its
surroundings.
Mate is drunk by all, from the babe to the centenarian; by the rich
cattle-owner, who drinks it from a chased silver cup through a golden
bombilla, to his servant, who is content with a small gourd, which
everywhere grows wild, and a tin tube. Tea, as we know it, is only to
be bought at the chemist's as a remedy for nerves. In other
countries it is said to be bad for nerves.
Each house possesses its private altar, where the saints are kept.
That sacred spot is veiled off when possible - if only by hanging in
front of it a cow's hide - from the rest of the dwelling. It consists,
according to the wealth or piety of the housewife, in expensive
crosses, beads, and pictures of saints decked out with costly care;
or, it may be, but one soiled lithograph surrounded by paper flowers
or cheap baubles of the poorer classes; but all are alike sacred.
Everything of value or beauty is collected and put as an offering to
these deities - pieces of colored paper, birds' eggs, a rosy tomato or
pomegranate, or any colored picture or bright tin. Descending from
the ridiculous to the gruesome, I have known a mother scrape and
clean the bones of her dead daughter in order that they might be
given a place on the altar.
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