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Patzcuaro is a sleepy old town that until the advent of the R.R. was buried in the heart of Michoacan & lived in itself. The people are still fanatically religious & the one or two attempts made to establish protestant missions here have failed owing to the pleasure taken by their neighbors in taking frequent shots at them with old muskets or other weapons of ancient design but sometimes deadly effect.

The streets of the town run up & down small hills & are paved with cobblestones through which quite a [[strikethrough]] lu [[/strikethrough]] growth of bright green grass is to be seen in many places. Wagons & carts are very rarely seen. Beyond the first part of the lake lies the old town of Sinsure, one of the early mission stations, where a still sleepier town than Patzcuaro lies. There in a rude old church [[strikethrough]] being amid [[/strikethrough]] amid some exceptionally primitive pictures done by local artists in the early days hangs a beautiful murillo of the burial of Christ hangs there with [[strikethrough]] mo [[/strikethrough]] hand-hewed beams & flooring of a frontier Franciscan chapel. The day of my visit I was taken into the deserted chapel by the sacristan