The nephew, Ernst, had made a collection of eleven hundred skins of Guatemalan birds. The padre and he have supplied specimens to many of the great museums of the world, but the choicest things have never been permitted to leave their hands.

The padre is a great success at getting into trouble. He fled from Ecuador on account of political difficulties; his stay in Guatemala is the longest he has ever made in one place. During his eight years there he was successful; but he finally antagonized the government, was arrested, and thrown into jail. He succeeded in escaping, fled to Salvador, and from there made his way to the United States, where, for a little time, he worked, unhappily, at San Antonio, Texas. A short time since, the Archbishop of Oaxaca was in Texas, met the padre, and promised him an appointment in his diocese. The padre was now on his way to Oaxaca to see the prelate and receive his charge.

In the heavy, lumbering coach we left next morning, Saturday, for Mitla. The road, usually deep with dust, was in fair condition on account of recent rains. We arrived in the early afternoon and at once betook ourselves to the ruins. At the curacy, we presented the archbishop's letter to the indian cura, who turned it over once or twice, then asked the padre to read it, as his eyes were bad. While the reading proceeded, the old man listened with wonder, and then exclaimed, "What a learned man you are to read like that!" As we left, the padre expressed his feelings at the comeliness of the old priest's indian housekeeper, at the number of her children, at the suspicious wideness of his bed, and at his ignorance, in wearing a ring, for all the world just like a bishop's. But he soon forgot his pious irritation amid those marvelous ruins of past grandeur. In our early ramble he lost no opportunity to tell the indians that he would repeat mass on the morrow at seven, and that they should make a special effort to be present.

THE PADRE, ERNST AND THE DOGS

But as we wandered from one to another of the ancient buildings, the thought of the morrow's duty lost its sweetness. He several times remarked that it was a great pity to lose any of our precious morning hours in saying mass, when there were ruins of such interest to be seen. These complaints gained in force and frequency as evening approached, until finally, as we sat at supper, he announced his decision to say mass before daybreak; he would call me at five o'clock, we would go directly to the church, we would be through service before six, would take our morning's coffee immediately after, and then would have quite a piece of the morning left for the ruins, before the coach should leave for Oaxaca.

Ernst accompanied us to Tehuacan. We rented three horses and a man on foot went with us to bring them back to the village. And for the whole we paid the regular price of eighty-seven centavos—twenty-five each for the animals, and twelve centavos for the man—something less than the twenty pesos demanded the day before at Tehuacan.

WE START FOR GUATEMALA

(1896)

The evening we were at Mitla, Señor Quiero came hurrying to our room and urged us to step out to the corridor before the house to see some Mixes. It was our first glimpse of representatives of this little known mountain people. Some thirty of them, men and women, loaded with fruit, coffee, and charcoal, were on their way to the great fair and market, at Tlacolula. They had now stopped for the night and had piled their burdens against the wall. Wrapping themselves in their tattered and dirty blankets, they laid themselves down on the stone floor, so close together that they reminded me of sardines in a box. With a blazing splinter of fat pine for torch, we made our inspection. Their broad dark faces, wide flat noses, thick lips and projecting jaws, their coarse clothing, their filthiness, their harsh and guttural speech, profoundly impressed me and I resolved to penetrate into their country and see them in their homes, at the first opportunity.

When the Padre left Chila, he took a letter of recommendation from the Archbishop of Oaxaca to the Bishop of Vera Cruz at Jalapa. By him, the padre was located at Medellin, a few miles from Vera Cruz itself. Thither I journeyed to join Ernst and make the final preparations for the journey. Ernst met me at the station at 6:30 in the evening and we stayed the night in the hot, mosquito-tortured, plague-stricken city. Leaving at eight o'clock in the morning we were at Medellin in an hour. Our journey was through low, swampy ground on which the chief growth was of palm. The padre, whom we had not seen since we parted at Oaxaca, met us at the station and took us at once to his house. The town is small, the population a miserable mixture of black, white, and indian elements. Few of the couples living there have been legally married. The parish is one of the worst in the whole diocese. The bishop warned the padre that it was an undesirable field, but it was the only one then unoccupied. But the padre was working wonders and the church was then undergoing repairs and decorations. The actual curato was long ago seized by the government and is now used as a schoolhouse. The priest lived in a rented house close by the river bank. The house is a double one and the priest occupied but half of it; those in the other half were hostile to him and he was anxious to rent the whole place. His neighbors, however, did not care to leave and threatened vengeance; they were behind a mass of accusations filed against him with the bishop. His friends rallied to his support, sent in a strong endorsement, and he remained. The padre had been industrious while here. Behind his house is the little river, with a bath-house built over it; crossing in a dugout canoe we found his garden flourishing, filled with fresh vegetables. The family of pets had grown; Baldur, Freia, Votan, Doxil—the dogs—were here as at Chila, but he also had fantail and capuchin pigeons, hens and chicks, ducks and geese, canary birds, and native birds in cages. Here also were archaeological relics, plants, beetles and birds for gathering. And here too, for the first time, I had the opportunity of examining his great collection of Ecuadorean humming-birds and a magnificent lot of Guatemalan quetzal skins, among them probably the finest ever collected.

THE PADRE'S HOUSE; MEDELLIN

THE CHURCH; MEDELLIN

The doctor's helpfulness was not confined to advice regarding mules. He insisted upon our buying various supplies, such as boxes of sardines, sago, coffee, etc., the utility of which appeared neither at the time nor later. Also at his suggestion a quart of whiskey was purchased and carefully divided into two flasks, one for each saddlebag. Most useful of all the doctor's suggestions, and one for which we had reason many times to thank him, was the securing from the governor of a letter to all local authorities in the state, directing them to supply us with the necessities of life, at just prices.

We had hoped to start from Oaxaca in the early morning, but it was well on in the afternoon before all arrangements were completed. The doctor and his Mexican friend rode with us to Tule to see us well started. It was out over the old road to Mitla. The afternoon was hot, dust was deep, and a heavy wind blew it up into our faces in clouds. The sun was already setting when we rode into Santa Maria Tule, and we went at once to see the famous cypress tree, which no one in the party, save myself, had seen. It seems now to be a single tree, but was perhaps, originally, three; at present it displays a single, vast trunk, buttressed with heavy irregular projecting columns. So irregular is this enormous mass that no two persons taking its girth exactly agree. We measured it four feet above the ground and made the circumference one hundred and sixty feet. The mass of delicate green foliage above was compact, vigorous, and beautiful. Many years ago Humboldt cut a rectangular piece of bark from the old trunk and on the smooth surface thus exposed carved an inscription with his name.

THE RAIN GOD; FROM THE CHURCH OF MIXISTLAN

THE GREAT TREE AT TULE

Bark has since grown over the sides and corners of this tablet, but much of the inscription may still be read. Since Humboldt's visit many lesser men have gashed the old tree to leave their mark.

As it was now darkening we hurried to the meson of the village. The old lady in charge received us with suspicion; she could not feed us and refused to receive us into the house for the night; she would permit us to sleep outside, in the corridor—which we might have done without asking permission. At this moment, the doctor's friend remembered that he knew a man here and went out to reconnoitre; he soon returned and led us to his friend's house, where we were well received. A supper of eggs, tortillas, and chocolate was soon served. Before we had finished the moon had risen and by its light the doctor and his friend started on their return to town. We slept on beds, made of boards laid upon sawhorses, in a grain store-room, where rats were running around all night long.

Beyond Mitla the valley narrows and the road rises onto a gently sloping terrace; when it strikes the mountains it soon becomes a bridle-path zigzagging up the cliffside. As we mounted by it, the valley behind expanded magnificently under our view. We passed through a belt of little oak trees, the foliage of which was purple-red, like the autumnal coloring of our own forests. Higher up we reached the pine timber. As soon as we reached the summit, the lovely valley view was lost and we plunged downward, even more abruptly than we had mounted, along the side of a rapidly deepening gorge. At the very mouth of this, on a pretty terrace, we came abruptly on the little town of San Lorenzo with palm-thatched huts of brush or cane and well grown hedges of organo cactus. Here we ate tortillas and fried-eggs with chili. Immediately on setting out from here we rode over hills, the rock of which was deeply stained with rust and streaked with veins of quartz, up to a crest of limestone covered with a crust of stalagmite.

The road up to this summit was not good, but that down the other side was bad. The irregular, great blocks of limestone, covered with the smooth, dry, slippery coating, caused constant stumbling to our poor animals. From this valley we rose onto a yet grander range. Here we had our first Mixe experience. At the very summit, where the road became for a little time level, before plunging down into the profound valley beyond, we met two Indians, plainly Mixes. Both were bareheaded, and both wore the usual dirty garments—a cotton shirt over a pair of cotton trousers, the legs of which were rolled up to the knees or higher. The younger of the men bore a double load, as he had relieved his companion. The old man's face was scratched and torn, his hands were smeared with blood and blood stained his shirt. We cried an "adios" and the old man kissed my hand, while the younger, pointing to his friend said "Sangre, Señor, sangre" (Blood, sir, blood.) Vigorously they told the story of the old man's misfortune, but in incomprehensible Spanish. While they spoke three others like them, each bent under his burden came up onto the ridge. These kissed my hand and then, excitedly pointing to the old man, all talking at once, tried to tell his story. Having expressed our sympathy, we left the five looking after us, the old man, with his torn and bleeding face, being well in the foreground.

THE START FROM OAXACA

THE CELEBRATION AT MITLA

There is no love between the Zapotecs and Mixes. We never learned the actual story, but imagined it somewhat as follows. The old Mixe, carrying his burden, had probably encountered the young Zapotec and had words with him. Probably there had been blows, and the old man was having the worst of it when his companions came along and turned the tide of battle.

THE LAND OF THE MIXES

(1896)

We had thought to find our wild Mixes living in miserable huts among the rocks, dressed in scanty native garb, leading half wild lives. We found good clearings on the hillside; fair fields of maize and peas, gourds and calabashes; cattle grazed in the meadows; fowls and turkeys were kept; the homes were log-houses, substantially built, in good condition, in neat enclosures; men and women, the latter in European dress, were busied with the duties of their little farms. Clearing after clearing in the forest told the same story of industry, thrift, and moderate comfort.

Ayutla is situated on a high terrace, before which opens a lovely valley and behind which rises a fine mountain slope. The village church, while large, is roofless; the town-house lies below the village, and by it are two jails for men and women. The houses of the village are small, rectangular structures of a red-brown-ochre adobe brick; the roofs slope from in front backward, and are covered with red tiles they project in front so as to cover a little space before the house.

By evening most of the indians in the town were drunk. At sunset a miserable procession started from the church, passed through the village, and then returned to the church; composed mostly of women, it was preceded by a band of music and the men who carried the santito. Later, we heard most disconsolate strains, and, on examination, found four musicians playing in front of the old church; three of them had curious, extremely long, old-fashioned horns of brass, while the fourth had a drum or tambour. The tambour was continuously played, while the other instruments were alternated in the most curious fashion. The music was strange and wierd, unlike any that we had ever heard before. However, we became thoroughly familiar with it before we had traversed the whole Mixe country, as we heard it twice daily, at sunrise and after sunset. It was the music of the Candelaria, played during the nine days preceding February 2d. As we sat listening to the music the presidente of the town appeared. His Spanish, at no time adequate, was now at its worst, as he was sadly intoxicated. We tried to carry on a conversation with him, but soon seeing that naught but disaster could be expected, if we continued, we discreetly withdrew to our room.

A STREET IN SAN LORENZO

AYUTLA

CLOUD CATARACT; NEAR JUQUILA

DANCERS IN THE DANZA DE LA CONQUISTA; JUQUILA

The cura had gone to bed; the meson had no room for us and no food for our horses; our case seemed desperate. We heard, however, noisy laughter and the loud voices of men drinking. So I begged Ernst to seek the presidente and tell him our needs while I looked after the animals. The official was at the tienda, drinking with his friends. Ernst made known our wishes, producing our letter from the governor. At this, the presidente became furious: "Who is this with orders from the governor? Let me kill him," and with that he drew his machete and made at Ernst. Some of his less-intoxicated friends restrained him, and Ernst, concluding that the moment was not propitious, returned to me. After other fruitless efforts to get food for ourselves and animals we resigned ourselves to our fate, and lay down upon the stone floor of the corridor outside the meson, with a crowd of sleeping indians as companions.

Although we stayed several days at Juquila, the presidente did not return, during our presence, to resume his duties of office. We were, however, well treated. The cura aided us with advice, information, and helpers. While we were in the village the danza de la Conquista took place. It is a popular play, with much dancing and music, and little action or dialogue, which celebrates the Conquest of Mexico by Cortez. It was rendered in the shade of a great tree near the church. In the first act, nine men and two girls took part; in the second act, there were many others. The nine men and two girls represented Indians; they wore crowns with plumes of snow-white down; in their hands they carried a rattle, made from the fruit of a tree and a wand of white down, with which they beat time. One man, representing Montezuma, had a crown of brilliantly colored plumes. The other eight men were warriors; the two girls were "Malinches." The first act consisted of a series of dances, including a very pretty maypole dance. The play lasted about three hours, and represented the life of the indians before the Conquest—Montezuma in his court, with the amusements celebrated for his entertainment. Hearing of the arrival of the Spaniards, he is filled with sad forebodings, which the amusements fail to dispel. In the second act, Hernando Cortez appears, with soldiers. While the costumes of the indians were gay, and more or less attractive, those of these European warriors were ludicrously mongrel and unbecoming. The new-comers demanded that Montezuma acknowledge the authority of the King of Spain and the cross of Christ. Conversations, demands, replies, tableaus, sword-dances, etc., ensued. Finally, Montezuma and his warriors yielded, and kissed the crucifix.

ROAD APPROACHING QUEZALTEPEC

TREE FERN IN TROPICAL FOREST; QUEZALTEPEC

CASCADE, NEAR QUEZALTEPEC

Our leaving Ixcuintepec in the early morning was not agreeable. The teachers were irritated over the affair of the zacate; the town authorities were dissatisfied with our refusal to pay for two lots of it. There was grumbling, and many dark looks followed us. We were rather glad to get away from the town without a serious outbreak. We were now on the road to the last of the Mixe towns we should visit, Coatlan. The road seemed endless, the ascent interminable; the town itself impressed us as exceptionally mean and squalid, and we stopped only long enough to eat a miserable dinner of eggs with chili and tortillas. The women here wore native dress. Several were clad as the Zapotec women from here to Tehuantepec, but a few were dressed in striking huipilis of native weaving, with embroidered patterns, and had their black hair done up in great rings around their heads, bright strips of cloth or ribbon being intermingled in the braiding. Literally and figuratively shaking the dust of the Mixe towns from our feet, we now descended into the Zapotec country. We were oppressed by a cramped, smothered feeling as we descended from the land of forested mountains and beautiful streams. At evening we reached San Miguel, the first Zapotec settlement, a little group of houses amid coffee plantings.

FIESTA OF SAN MARCOS; JUQUILA

BRIDGE OF VINES; NEAR IXCUINTEPEC

It was now time for the family to dispose of itself for the night. I was already in the hammock and Ernst had one of the pole-beds; the man, his wife, and little Federico occupied the other bed; the little girl and the three older boys climbed, by a notched log, up to a loft constructed of poles or canes on which they laid themselves down. After all were located, the woman barred the door and we were soon asleep.

All rose early. Not only did we wish to make an early start, but the boys, too, were to make a journey. Our friends had agreed to make us some coffee and tortillas. We had made our preparations for starting and were waiting for our breakfast, when a shriveled and wrinkled old woman tottered up to beg the strangers to visit her sick son and prescribe some remedio. On our consenting to go with her, she caught up a stick of fat pine, lighted it in the fire, and with this blazing torch to light the way, preceded us to her house. Her son had been a strong and robust young man, but four months of lying upon his pole-bed had sadly reduced him. He was thin and pale, coughed sadly, and suffered with fever, chills, and dreadful headaches. He was taking medicines brought from Tehuantepec, but these seemed to have no effect and we were begged to suggest treatment. We advised continuance of the remedy she had been using, but also prescribed hot water taken in the morning and at night, hot water applications for the headaches, quinine for the chills and fever, and a digestive for the stomach trouble, and furnished these remedies from our own supplies. Having lighted us back to our lodging-place the old lady asked our charge. When we refused to receive payment from the poor creature, we noted an increased activity on the part of our host and hostess; a bit of cheese

was promptly found and added to the waiting coffee and tortillas, and when we called for our own reckoning, we received the hearty response—"Nada, señor, nada;" (nothing, sir, nothing) "and when you come this way again, come straight to us, our door is always open to you."

SANTIAGO GUEVEA

We had just such another hard, hot, and dusty ride the next day, on through Auyuga and Tlacotepec, where we stopped for noon, until Tehuantepec, where we arrived at evening.

THROUGH CHIAPAS

(1896)

READY FOR CHURCH; TEHUANTEPEC

THE WIDE ROAD; TEHUANTEPEC TO JUCHITAN

Passing through Zanatepec, we stopped for Sunday at Tanatepec. Here we found ourselves again upon the low coast road. It was, however, our last point of low altitude, as from there we struck inland over a higher, cooler, and more interesting mountain road. At Zanatepec we first saw the marimba played. This musical instrument, unquestionably African in name and origin, is hardly found north of Chiapas, but is extremely common through Central America. It consists of a wooden frame supporting keys made of wood and metal, each of which gives forth its own note when struck with small hammers. Below the keys of lowest tone are hung tubes, pipes, or gourds, as sounding boxes to increase the sound produced by striking the key. Usually four players perform at one time, each using two or more little hammers. The music is rapid and brilliant, somewhat resembling that of the piano. The instrument usually has some fanciful name, which is painted upon it. The one at Tanatepec was La Azteca (The Aztec Lady), while our next one was La reina de las flores (The queen of the flowers). At Zanatepec, La Azteca was an advertising part of a traveling circus. The troupe consisted of three men and three women, the latter of whom seemed to be mulattos. The men were ridiculously garbed and painted to represent wild indians. The real, live indians, who followed these clowns in delighted crowds, enjoyed thrills of terror at their whoops, fierce glances, and wild antics, and assured us that these actors were, if not the real thing, at least wonderfully accurate impersonations of the natives of the Estados unidos (United States)—the land of the "Apaches."

The last day of travel before reaching Tuxtla Gutierrez, we passed one of the few pretty places on this dreary road, Agua Bendita. At this point the road makes a great curve, almost like a horseshoe; at the middle of this curve there rises to the right of the road a wall of limestone rock the plainly defined strata of which are thrown into a gentle anticlinal fold. The upper layers of this arch were covered with shrubs, clinging to its face, while the lower layers were tapestried with a curtain of delicate ferns, which hung down over the open arch below, under which the road passed. Water trickled through this limestone mass and dripped and collected in little basins, which had been excavated in the ledge close by the roadside. Some grateful passer had set up little crosses by the water pools, and they were gay that day with purple orchids plucked from a near-by tree. In this tree, amid the brilliant clumps of yet unplucked blossoms of the orchids, were a number of toucans with their enormous, brightly colored bills—the picos de canoa (canoe beaks) of the people.

Few Mexican governors possess the breadth of view and the intelligent enterprise of Governor Leon, whom we encountered here. A man of middle age, of fair stature though slight in build, with dark complexion, iron-gray hair, beard and whiskers carefully trimmed after the French fashion, his appearance creates a favorable impression. He did everything in his power for our comfort and assistance, and supplied us with letters to the jefes politicos of the districts through which we were to pass. We congratulated him upon the cart-road over which we had come from Zanatepec, an important public work for this part of the world; he told us he began it three years ago with a force of but nine men; that it would be extended to San Cristobal and San Bartolome; that he was no engineer, but that he could tell quite well when a road was passable for a cart. We found him greatly interested in a congress which he had called of persons interested in labor questions. Among the questions which he hoped to see considered was the abolition of the system of peonage, which still exists in full development in the state.

The aje which gives the brilliant lustre to this work deserves more than a passing notice. It is made chiefly at San Bartolome and is secured from an insect, a sort of plant-louse, which lives upon the blackthorn and related trees. The insect is found only in the wet season, is small, though growing rapidly, and is of a fiery-red color, though it coats itself over with a white secretion. It lives in swarms, which form conspicuous masses. These are gathered in vessels, washed to remove the white secretion, boiled, crushed, and strained through a cloth; an oily matter, mixed with blood (?) and water passes out, which is boiled to drive off the water and to concentrate the oily mass. This is then washed in trays, to rid it of the blood, and made up into balls, which are sold at ten or twelve centavos (five or six cents) a pound. It is a putty-like substance, with a handsome yellow color. We have already stated that it is ground up with dry paints to be rubbed on the object which is to be adorned, and that the brilliant lustre is developed by gentle and rapid friction.

ZAPOTEC WOMAN; SAN BLAS

CASE OF WHITE PINTO; TUXITA GUTIERREZ

We had not planned to stop at Acala, but after a hard ride over a dreary road and a ferrying across a wide and deep river in a great dugout canoe thirty feet or more in length—our animals swimming alongside—we found our beasts too tired for further progress. And it was a sad town. How strange, that beautifully clear and sparkling mountain water often produces actual misery among an ignorant population! Scarcely had we dismounted at our lodging place, when a man of forty, an idiot and goitrous, came to the door and with sadly imperfectly co-ordinated movements, gestured a message which he could not speak. Almost as soon as he had gone a deaf-mute boy passed. As we sat at our doorway, we saw a half-witted child at play before the next house. Goitre, deaf-mutism, and imbecility, all are fearfully common, and all are relatedly due to the drinking water.

RIVER BETWEEN CHIAPA AND ACALA

THE INDIAN GOVERNMENT AT SAN BARTOLOME

We had been told that San Bartolome was full of goitre, and we really found no lack of cases. It is said that forty years ago it was far more common than now, and that the decrease has followed the selection of a new water source and the careful piping of the water to the town. In the population of two thousand, it was estimated that there might be two hundred cases, fifty of which were notable. None, however, was so extraordinary as that of which several told us, the late secretario of the town, who had a goitre of such size that, when he sat at the table to write, he had to lift the swelling with both hands and place it on the table before he began work. The former prevalence of the disease is abundantly suggested by the frequency of deaf-mutes, a score or more of whom live here—all children of goitrous parents. Bad as was San Bartolome, it seemed to us surpassed by San Antonio, where we found the disease in an aggravated form, while at Nenton, our first point in Guatemala, every one appeared affected, although we saw no dreadful cases.

From San Bartolome to Comitan, the road passes over a curious lime deposit, apparently formed by ancient hot waters; it is a porous tufa which gave back a hollow sound under the hoofs of our horses. It contains moss, leaves, and branches, crusted with lime, and often forms basin terraces, which, while beautiful to see, were peculiarly harsh and rough for our animals. But the hard, and far more ancient, limestone, onto which we then passed, was quite as bad. At the very summit of one hill of this we found a cave close by the road; entering it, we penetrated to a distance of perhaps seventy-five feet, finding the roof hung with stalactites and the walls sheeted with stalagmite. Just after leaving this cave, we met a tramp on foot, ragged, weary, and dusty, and with a little bundle slung upon a stick over his shoulder. He accosted me in Spanish, asking whence we had come; on my reply, probably catching my foreign accent, he winked and said in plain English,—"Yes? And where are you going, pard?"

The town was crowded, as the annual feria (fair) was in progress, and it was with difficulty that we found a room to sleep in, going for our meals to one of the many temporary eating-places in the plaza. Comitan is the last town of consequence in Mexico, and has wide fame on account of its spirits, known at comiteco. This drink, of enormous strength, distilled from coarse, brown sugar (panela,) is a favorite in Guatemala, and its smuggling across the border, though risky, is a lucrative business. There are scores of little distilleries in the town, many of them belonging to and conducted by women.

AT HUIXQUILUCAN

(1897)

Our serious work was to begin with one of the most conservative and reserved of Mexican indian populations. If we could do what we planned to do with the Otomis, we were likely to have but little greater trouble with any tribe. In ancient times the name of Otomi was synonymous with stupidity. When an Aztec was particularly stupid or clumsy, his fellows in derision called him an Otomi. They still are ignorant, suspicious, and unprogressive.

OTOMI INDIAN GIRLS; HUIXQUILUCAN

THE MOON-STONE, AT DOS RIOS STATION

When we were there, great stacks of corn-husks were to be seen in almost every yard; these were placed on floorings, raised by posts some distance above the ground to keep them from animals. A long ladder usually leaned against one side of the stack and a light cross of sticks stuck into the top of the stack kept off evil influences. Sometimes this cross was cut in relief on the smooth, carefully trimmed end of the stack itself. More striking than these stacks, and quite characteristic of the Otomi country, were the queer corn-bins or granaries called by the Aztec name cincalote. They rose in all directions like great square columns. The floor of boards was slightly raised from the ground by stones, and measured some 4 or 5 feet on a side; from its corners rose 4 poles, sometimes to the height of 20 feet; these were connected at the top and held firm by ropes. The sides of the bin were built up of a cobwork of slender staves laid horizontally. The vertical bin thus formed was filled with ears of corn roofed about with a light thatch or shingled roof. Later in the season, as the corn was taken from these bins, the sides would have been removed piecemeal to keep progress with the diminishing hoard. When the time of planting should be near, the whole structure but the floor and upright poles would have disappeared.

A curious fact in respect to the Otomis resulted from our study. The men, apparently of pure blood, presented two quite different types. There are many who are as little as the women; these present almost the type already given as that of the women, but are a little lighter in color. The second type is tall, sometimes over 1,700 millimeters. It is lighter in color, presenting at times a light brownish-yellow shade. Some indians of this large type have white skins, blotched with disagreeable red or purple. The eyes of these large men are usually widely-spaced, and the face appears rounder than in their smaller brethren. All the Otomis of both types, men and women, have astonishingly big heads, and many dwarfish individuals would require a 7-1/4 hat.

THE CHURCH; HUIXQUILUCAN

OTOMI INDIAN; HUIXQUILUCAN

Below the station of Dos Rios a little ravine borders the main valley. There, within sight of the track on one side of the ravine lies the stone which long ago "fell from the moon." It is a great boulder, with flat lower surface, and round upper surface, sufficiently large for a considerable party to camp on. The earth is washed away somewhat from below it, and on its under side are rude figures painted in imitation of suns and circles and symbolic designs. It is said that the indians throughout the country around respect this rock, making prayers and offerings to it.

One of Huixquilucan's pretty hamlets is Agua Bendita,—blessed water,—near the upper, narrowing end of the valley. A dozen or so houses compose the settlement. Near it, upon a little side gorge, two lovely springs burst forth from the rock. From them a babbling stream of sparkling water flows, in which, in the bright sunshine, women wash clothes, and lay them out on bushes or grassy banks to dry; little naked children play about while the mothers labor; hither dusky maidens come to perform their toilets; here women fill their ollas with water; here pulque-gatherers wash and scrape their skin bottles. In the little tank below, where the water lies so clear that everything is visible upon its bottom, one may see axolotls creeping. They are water-salamanders, but they have a strange history. Like frogs, they pass through a series of changes, and the larval is very different from the adult form. In some Mexican lakes of genial temperature, the little creature goes through its full history from the larva to the adult; but in cold mountain lakes, the adult form is never attained, and the larva (elsewhere immature) lays eggs that hatch its like.

LAKE PATZCUARO

(1897)

SANTA FE DE LA LAGUNA

A crowd of pure indians had gathered at the landing, by the time we were unloaded. Forty or fifty men and women of medium stature, dark-brown skin and broad, expressionless faces, watched our every movement with curiosity, but none was ready to assist us in carrying our luggage to the curato. Taking it ourselves, as best we could, we found a boy to direct us and made our way to the house. The cura, had gone to Quiroga and his suspicious household would not receive us until his return, although permitting us to leave our goods. Going to the plaza, we succeeded in getting bread and cheese at a tienda, and after eating loitered until, at half-past-two, the Padre Ponce made his appearance. We showed him our letters and asked his interest and aid. He at once made us at home in his house, summoned the officials, read the governor's letter aloud to them, and told them it was their duty to assist us in every way. We at once began our work, and before nightfall had measured and photographed a number of cases.

LOS VIEJOS; SANTA FE DE LA LAGUNA

On the second day after Christmas a strolling band of pastores, from San Geronimo, passed from house to house singing their Christmas songs. The company consisted of two or three musicians, a carrier—who was an indian boy about fifteen years old—and half a dozen other youngsters, wearing new palm hats and carrying long staves ending above in a loop from which streamed strips of brilliantly colored tissue paper. The carrier bore a cushion, upon which was stretched a figure of the infant Christ. At each house, he passed before the spectators, allowing them to kiss the figure and to deposit gifts of flowers or of money for the little church at San Geronimo; the music then struck up, the leader began to sing, and the little shepherds (pastores) marched around and around singing in chorus.

CHURCHYARD AND BELLS; TZINTZUNTZAN

VIEW AT JANICHO; LAKE PATZCUARO

All the tourist world that goes to Patzcuaro visits Tzintzuntzan to see the Titian. Padre Ponce was anxious to have us see the famous picture and photograph it. It was late when we reached the town, which consists in large part of mestizos and indians who speak little but native Tarascan. We found the cura was not in town, but were taken to the curato; arrived there, we discovered that the good man had taken his keys with him. We arranged, with some difficulty, for something to eat, and, after supper, were shown into an open room, with an unfinished roof, without a door, and with no hint of bed. Here we shared a lumber pile with two or three young men and suffered frightfully from cold all night. We were up early, as sleep was impossible, and filled our time as best we could, until it was light enough to photograph the picture.

TARASCAN FISHERMEN; JANICHO

No town in all the region makes so much use of the tsupakua, or spear-thrower, a wooden stick cut to fit the hand and support the shaft of a spear or long dart, the end of which rests against a peg near the tip of the thrower. By means of this instrument, the long, light, darts of cane with iron points are thrown more directly and forcibly than by the hand alone. These spears are used in hunting ducks. Anciently a spear-throwing stick was widely used through Mexico; to-day it lingers in few places, the best known of which is here on Lake Patzcuaro.

TO URUAPAN BEFORE THE RAILROAD

(1898)

We easily arranged at Patzcuaro to leave for Uruapan the next morning. Although delayed beyond our proposed hour of starting, we were off at six. It was early enough, indeed, for the morning air was cold; heavy frost coated the leaves and grass and lay upon the soil; in spite of our heavy blankets, wrapped closely about us, we shivered as we rode along upon our horses.

TARASCAN WOMEN; JANICHO

No town in Mexico is more beautiful. Perpetual spring reigns. Although several thousand feet above sea level, it is so situated, with reference to mountain slopes and funnel valleys, that it has a genial climate, where plants nourish which are usually found only at lower altitudes. Its fruits and "the finest coffee in the world" have rendered the town long famous. The houses, bowered in dense groves of green, are of the picturesque Tarascan type. The four-sloped roofs, now covered with long, narrow shingles, now with the dull red tiles, suggest the prettiest pictures in Japanese towns. The streets are clean. Through the centre of the town dashes a mountain stream of clearest water, with the hue of sapphire. This pretty stream furnishes power for mills, factories and lighting-plant, and is crossed several times by picturesque, roofed bridges, in the shelter of which one may spend hours in watching the dashing water, foaming cascades, curious potholes worn in the rocky banks, and the passing Indians. Most Mexican towns are contented with one plaza; this one has three, following each other closely, separated only by single lines of narrow buildings. They are neatly planted, and supplied with bandstand and monuments. The town is electric-lighted and several hotels had been lately put in readiness to receive the crowd of visitors expected with the completion of the railroad, a matter of a few months later.

INDIAN SPEAR-THROWER; LAKE PATZCUARO

Meantime, there were objects of interest for us in Uruapan itself. The town is famous for its lacquer work, made with aje, like that of Chiapa. Gourds are ornamented, fruit-forms are colored after nature, bowls made from fruit shells are elaborately decorated, all quite like the Chiapa work. What is characteristic of Uruapan are the placques and table-tops of wood, decorated with floral designs in brilliant colors, upon a background of dark-green, pink, blue, yellow, or black. This art is in the hands of a few persons, some pure indians. Visiting them, we found the wooden placques and table-tops are brought from one of the mountain villages of the Tarascans; they are first covered thickly with the background color; upon this the pattern is pencilled and then cut out in the lacquered surface; the color, mixed with oil and aje, as with other substances, is then applied with the finger-tips to fill the cut patterns; the lustre is then brought out by careful rubbing. The work is striking, and is prized throughout the Republic.

In the same quarter of the town, where this local industry is carried on, are many goitrous persons. The disease seems to be confined to the one district, but there perhaps one-half the people have it, most of them to but a slight degree. Occasionally the swelling is notable, and in the families affected we find, as usual, deaf-mutism.

HOUSES AT URUAPAN

With profuse apologies and expressions of regret from the officials, we left Cheran, hurrying on to Nehuatzen for the night. Our chief reason for doing so was that everyone who knew of our intention to visit Cheran had shaken their heads, remarking "Ah! there the nights are always cold." Certainly, if it is colder there than at Nehuatzen, we would prefer the frigid zone outright. Nehuatzen is famous as the town where the canoes for Lake Patzcuaro are made. We had difficulty in securing food and a place to sleep. The room in which we were expected to slumber was hung with an extensive wardrobe of female garments. These we added to the blankets we carried with us, but suffered all night long from the penetrating cold. The two indian boys, who accompanied us as guides and carriers, slept in the corridor outside our door and when day broke they were so cramped and numbed and stiff with cold, that they lighted matches and thrust their cold hands into the flames, before they could move their finger-joints. We had planned to leave at five, but it was too cold to ride until the sun should be an hour high, so finally we left at seven. There was heavy frost on everything; curved frost crystals protruded from the soil, and we broke ice a half inch thick in water-troughs, unfinished canoes, by the roadside.

For ten hours we rode, without even stopping for lunch, through Sabina and Pichataro, San Juan Tumbio and Ajuno, back to comfortable Patzcuaro.

TLAXCALA

(1898)

We have always loved the State of Tlaxcala and its quaint little capital city of the same name. For more than a dozen years its governor has been Prospero Cahuantzi, a pure-blood indian, whose native language is Aztec. He is a large, well built man, with full face and little black eyes that are sunken deeply into the flesh. He is a man of some force and energy. The population of his little state, the most densely populated in the Republic, is almost entirely indian, and it at once fears, hates, and respects him. Having made several previous visits to the city, and having always been graciously received by Don Prospero, we thought it hardly necessary to carry with us our usual letters of recommendation from the Federal authorities.

When the labor of the day was over, we stopped at the jefe's office to inform him that we should continue work the following day, and emphasized the fact that we wished one hundred cases, and, as yet, had less than half that number. We suggested that systematic arrangements would not only facilitate our labor, but would lessen his own task. The result was evident; on the following day delegations, ordered by the jefe, and consisting of from six to a dozen persons each, began to come in from the outlying villages. This made our work easy, indeed. In one respect, Tlaxcala differs from all the other Mexican states with which we are acquainted. Most of the people live in very little towns, which cluster around the larger places. Thus, around the capital city, Tlaxcala, there are some seventeen of these small pueblos.

Working at the palace, we had secured almost no women for measurement. Asking the advice of the cura, in the matter, he recommended that we should go to some one of the neighboring indian villages; that he would give us a letter to the juez and that, thus, we would secure our subjects easily. He suggested San Estevan and wrote the promised letter to the juez of that village. San Estevan is a pretty village, near the summit of some low gray hills of tufa, behind which rises a background of higher hills of the same material. The slope is terraced for the houses, which are all built of adobe bricks and have flat roofs. The "three part house," of the ancient Aztec type—god-house, kitchen, and granary—is better shown in this state than almost any other part of the Republic. The granary, or cuezcomate, is particularly characteristic. It is built of clay, in the form of a great vase or urn, open at the top, above which is built a little thatch to shed rain and to protect the contents. The cuezcomate is often ten feet high. One or more of them is found in connection with every house.

HOUSE AND CUEZCOMATE; LOS REYES

When, toward evening, we returned from San Estevan, tired but quite satisfied with the day's work, we found a delegation of more than a dozen men waiting for us in the plaza. We did not need so large a number to complete our work, and it was nearly dark; we would gladly have dismissed them and run our chances of securing others the next day. But neither they nor the jefe politico were to be bluffed. So we marched into the corridor, lighted candles and got to work. When those lacking to make our full hundred had been measured, we proposed to let the others go, but they were not to be thus got rid of, and insisted on being measured as such were the orders of the governor. We were not through until long after dark, and we were ravenously hungry.

it sank and swelled, sank and swelled, repeatedly, until it seemed that it would never stop. Service over, the procession formed, and the santito was brought out before the church. The townspeople were arranged and the view taken. We were then invited in to breakfast, which was fine. There were plenty of French rolls and the red wine brought from town, and a great heap of enchiladas, fresh lettuce and eggs. After eating, we expressed a wish to hear the village drum, a great huehuetl. This musical instrument is a reminder of the olden times; it is not found everywhere, but a number of indian towns possess one, which is kept to be played on festal occasions. The one as Los Reyes was some three feet or so in height, a hollow cylinder of wood with a membrane stretched across the upper end; it was painted blue. A chair of state was placed for me in the little patio. After I was seated the three musicians took their places,—one played the great huehuetl, a second beat the tambour or ordinary drum, the third performed upon the chirimiya, a shrill wooden pipe. It was the first time we had really heard a huehuetl. The player used two sticks with padded heads, beating with great force in excellent time. The booming of the instruments was audible to a great distance. The whole village had gathered, and in a momentary lull in the music, I told the people of the ancient use of the huehuetl; that Bernal Diaz, in his history of the Conquest of Mexico, tells us what feelings filled the hearts of the Spaniards, when they heard the great huehuetl, in the temple of the ancient city of Tenochtitlan; then it was chiefly beaten when human victims were being sacrificed to the gods, and the soldiers knew that some fellow-countryman, or a Tlaxcalan ally, was dying. Never have I given a public lecture, that was listened to with more attention or greater appreciation.

THE VILLAGE AND ITS SAINT; LOS REYES

CUEZCOMATE, OR GRANARY; SAN NICOLAS PANOTLA

Weeks later, we learned the probable reason of the governor's gruffness, which was in such marked contrast to his previous treatment, that it puzzled us considerably. At about the time of our visit, a number of wealthy hacienderos, of the State of Tlaxcala, had been arrested for counterfeiting silver money. They were men whose maguéy fields brought them enormous incomes; one would suppose their legitimate sources of wealth would have contented them! But such was not the case, and they had gone into wholesale counterfeiting. The fraudulent coin had long been known and diligent efforts were made to find the criminals, efforts at last crowned with success. The guilt was fixed without a doubt, the parties were arrested, tried, and sentenced. Every attempt was made to secure their pardon, in vain. Governor Cahuantzi is an old friend of President Diaz, believed to have great influence with him. Men of wealth, interested in the release and pardon of the criminals, promised Cahuantzi ten thousand dollars in case of his successful intercession with the President in the matter. These details, not generally known, we received from a source respectable and trustworthy, and we believe them true. Anxious to gain the reward, and probably feeling certain of his influence with Diaz, the old man made the journey to Mexico. It was the very time when we called upon him. When we had our interview, he had just seen the President, and it is hinted that, not only did Don Porfirio refuse to pardon the counterfeiters, but showed a dangerous inclination to investigate the reason of the indian governor's intervention. No wonder that the old man was gruff and surly to his visitors, after the loss of ten thousand dollars which he had looked upon as certain, and with uncertainty as to the final outcome of his unlucky business.

TLAXCALAN SCHOOLBOYS; SAN NICOLAS PANOTLA

ZAMORA AND THE ONCE PUEBLOS

(1898)

The morning train from Guadalajara brought us to Negrete at about two in the afternoon, and we had soon mounted to the top of the clumsy old coach, which was dragged by six horses. The road to Zamora runs through a rich farming district. For the greater part of the distance the road is level and passes amidst great haciendas. The corn crop had been abundant and carts were constantly coming and going from and to the fields. These carts were rectangular, with side walls some four or five feet in height, made of corn-stalks set close together and upright. All were drawn by oxen. Most of the carts had a light cross, made of corn-stalks, set at the front end, to protect the load from adverse influences. Great numbers of men, dressed in leather trousers drawn over their cotton drawers, in single file lined past us, with great baskets full of corn strapped on their backs. Here and there, in the corn-fields, groups of such men were cutting the ripened ears from the plants.

The Once Pueblos—eleven towns—are famous through this portion of the Republic. Several of them are purely indian; Chilchota is largely mestizo. The towns lie in a long line on the side of the little valley, at the foot of the bordering hills. Between some, spaces of considerable extent intervene; others are so close together that, in riding through them, one sees no line of separation. All consist of adobe houses, of a rich brown color, roofed with tiles. Some of the churches are of considerable size, but are also built of brown adobe. The Once Pueblos are famous for their pottery, and in some of them almost every house has its little kiln or oven. Fruit is cultivated, and the houses are frequently embowered in trees; in many yards are bee-hives. The valley is abundantly watered with little streams of perfect clearness.

We soon discovered that the eleven towns were in a ferment of excitement. Most dreadful tales were rife with regard to us and our work. Some asserted that we cut off heads and hung them up to dry; that in drying, they turned white. Others reported that with knives, made for the purpose, we sliced off the ears of unfortunate indians, close to their heads. Still others reported that we had a frightful instrument which was fitted into the nose, and by means of which we tore strips of flesh and skin from the face of the subject. It was said, and quite likely truly, that they were arming in all the houses; that machetes, guns, pistols, and clubs were laid convenient to hand.

Needing but two more subjects, we looked about Chilchota the next day, hoping to find indians from the more remote villages, who might permit their busts to be made. Two excellent cases were found. The last was a man from Carapan, the most remote of the eleven towns. He was a man of forty years, whose father accompanied him, and both were for a long time dubious about the operation. Finally, however, consent was given and the bust was made. As he arose and dressed to go, I said, "Did I tell you the truth? Did the operation hurt you, or did it not? Was there a reason why you should not have your bust made?" He promptly answered, "Sir, you told me truth; the operation did not hurt me and there surely is no harm in it; but, sir, you can hardly believe what an excitement this work has caused in our town. Yesterday, in the market-place at Chilchota, there were more than twenty men from Carapan who carried weapons in their clothing. We had selected leaders and arranged signals, and at the first sign of an attack from your party, we were prepared to sell our lives dearly."

THE BOY WITH THE SMILE

(1898)

Much later, when at home planning the details of our next extensive journey, the thought struck us that it might be well to make the boy with the smile a member of our party. It seemed as if, in going into districts rarely visited by strangers, it would be well to have the party as largely Mexican as possible. If, however, the boy were to accompany us, it was necessary that he should first learn something of our work and needs, and perhaps of English. Accordingly, I decided to go to Cholula and bring the boy up to the States.

The house consisted, like most of its class, of a single room. The walls were built of sun-dried bricks of adobe. Entrance was by a single door. There were no windows. The floor was clay. The flat roof was scarcely six feet above the floor. The furniture, though ample, was scanty. A little earthen brazier for heating and cooking, a stone metate, a rubbing-stone for grinding corn-meal, a table heaped with bundles and boxes containing the family clothing, and a chair were all. There were no beds, not even the mats which so frequently, among the poor of Mexico, take their place. Several pictures of saints and of the virgin were pinned against the wall, and there were signs of tapers which had been burned before them. A bird or two in wooden cages, a rooster and a little dog lived in the house with the family.

THE CROSS; SAN NICOLAS PANOTLA

THE BOY WITH THE SMILE

Telling his mother that she should put together the few articles of which there might be need, we started for the noonday car. As we left, I suggested that she and the little girl come to the city, during the afternoon or evening, to bid the boy good-bye, as we should leave on an early train the following morning. They came at nightfall. She had his small possessions tied up in a carrying cloth, and her mind was stored with bits of excellent advice and admonition as to his conduct and behaviour in his new surroundings. After Dolores and her brother had given each other a, farewell embrace, the mother said a few words to the boy, who knelt upon the floor of the room and crossed his hands upon his breast. The mother then gave him her parting blessing, and sent him forth into the outside world.

IN THE MIXTECA ALTA

(1898)

YODOCONO

Leaving Yodocono at ten the following morning, we rode to Tilantongo. Though assured that the road was over a district as level as a floor, we found a good deal of up-hill riding. Tilantongo itself, with 2,266 inhabitants, is located upon the further slope of a hill, and but few houses were in sight until we were actually in the town. The public buildings surrounded a small open space, in the centre of which is a stone sun-dial. One side of this little plaza is occupied by the schoolhouse; the town-house and jail occupy the rear. The town is built upon a horseshoe-shaped, sloping ridge, and the church is at the edge of the town, at one of the very ends of the horseshoe. Riding to the town-house, we presented our documents to the presidente, and ordered dinner for ourselves and food for the horses. We had letters to the priest, but he was not in town. The schoolhouse was placed at our disposal, and we moved two long benches close to each other, side by side; rush mats were brought, and these we laid upon the benches, and upon the teacher's table, for beds. Mr. Lang and Don Anselmo took the table, Manuel and I the benches, and Mariano had the floor. The cold was so intense that none of us slept much. We were astonished, in the middle of the night, and at intervals in the early morning, say at two or four o'clock, to hear snatches of songs. At first, we imagined it might be some religious festival, but on inquiring, we found that it was nothing but bands of drunken indians making night hideous.

MIXTEC HOUSES; TILANTONGO

Called away the next morning by his religious duties, the priest left us in charge of house and household. The work went merrily on in the plaza. We quickly found, however, that the town was getting into a condition of intoxication, and long before noon every person in the place was drunk. At noon we were waited upon by a committee, representing the town, who informed us that they appreciated the lofty honor which was conferred on the place by our presence, and stated that, realizing that we had brought with us letters from the President of the Republic and from the Archbishop of the diocese, they desired not to be lacking in the respect due to such distinguished visitors. Accordingly, they said, they had arranged for the brass band to discourse sweet music for us, while we ate our dinner. No sooner was the statement made, than preparations were begun. The band stood around us in a semi-circle, chiefly notable for its unsteadiness on its legs, and regaled us with a series of most doleful pieces. When word came that dinner was ready at the curato, the band accompanied us to our stopping-place. The bandmaster announced his intention of personally serving us at the table. At the same time orders were given that the musicians, standing without, should continue to play pieces throughout the repast.

The following morning at six o'clock we were again upon the road. We first descended into the valley, passing the miserable hut from whence the dead woman had been borne. In all the yards we noticed peach-trees loaded with their pink blossoms. From the deep and narrow valley, we began to climb steadily upward. We passed along the side of a gorge, the bed of which had all the appearance of a giant stairway. Higher and higher we mounted, leaving San Juan Diusi on our right. Great masses of gray clouds hung upon the summits of the highest mountain, their lower line coming very nearly to our level. The wind beginning to blow, the gray mass soon was whirled and spread down like a great veil around us. We were indeed glad when we began to descend and have a little shelter behind us, against the wind, and dry skies instead of damp clouds above us. Making a sudden descent, we found ourselves in a cleared district, where the only trees left on the high summits were palms, which bore little round dates with round seeds; these were quite sweet and good. Small ranches were scattered, here and there, along the road. After another descent and ascent, we found ourselves in an extensive forest of great gnarled oaks, thickly covered with tufts of air-plants and with orchids. Many of the latter were in full bloom, forming masses of brilliant color. In making the descent from here, we found the slope composed of slippery limestone, with sharp, rain-channeled surfaces, where our horses with great difficulty kept their footing. Soon after we were down, we reached San Bartolo.

This purely Mixtec town was a delightful spot. It is large, and strung along two or three long straight streets.

THE PEOPLE RECEIVING THEIR PADRE; TILANTONGO

The houses were in yards completely filled with fruit trees—chirimoyas, limas, granadas de China, ahuacates and oranges. Garden-beds of spinach, lettuce, and onions were frequent. The houses were of poles set upright, with thick thatchings of palms. Bee-hives in quantity were seen at almost every house. At Tilantongo we had seen but few women in native dress. Here almost every woman was clad in native garments, many of which were beautifully decorated. The men wore brilliant sashes, woven in the town. When we reached the town-house we found the doorway decorated with flowers,—stars and rosettes made of palm. We were well received, and a capital dinner was soon served, after which we were escorted around the town by the authorities, who arranged for photographing everything that seemed to us of interest. But, at three o'clock, we left this pretty spot. Again, we climbed much of the way over limestone roads. Santo Domingo, past which we journeyed, is a mean little town, with houses much like those of Tilantongo, but of a gray color instead of reddish-brown. From here we plunged downward, and when we ascended again, followed along the side of a rock-walled cañon with pretty cascades and magnificent masses of fallen rock. The last part of our journey was made by moonlight, along a brook-side over a road which seemed quite endless. With some trouble, we found the dilapidated old church and the municipal house; we took possession of the school, and after a miserable supper, thoroughly tired, lay down to rest upon the benches.

Nowhere in our journey in southern Mexico had we met with the kind of scenery which we encountered between Magdalena and Tlaxiaco; its whole character was like that of New Mexico. Directly behind the town was a fine cart-road, worn in red sand pumice; before the town rose a magnificent cliff, which had been a landmark in our journey of the day before. The road running up the mountain, over gray and red pumice strata, was deeply worn, just like the road back of Cochiti, New Mexico. Here, too, were the same noble pines for forest. It was a full hour's climb to the summit, where we found a pretty brook tumbling over ledge after ledge into deep round basins of purest water. A long and rather gentle slope downward led to a valley filled with neat farm-houses and cleared patches. Our last ascent brought us to a mass of rounded hills, composed of brilliant clays—yellow, brown, pink, red and white. From among these hillocks Tlaxiaco, a magnificent picture, burst into view. It is compactly built; the flat-topped houses are white or blue-tinted; trees are sprinkled through the town; the old convent, with the two towers of its church, dominates the whole place; a pretty stream flows along its border; and a magnificent range of encircling mountains hems it in on all sides. The descent was rapid, and we reached Tlaxiaco with the morning but half gone.

MIXTEC HOUSES WITH BEEHIVES; SAN BARTOLO

Though we had warned the town officials that we should leave at seven, and must have breakfast before we left, when we arose, we found no steps whatever taken for our accommodation. Yet the town officials had been up long enough to be thoroughly affected by their early morning drinks. Feeling that patience had ceased to be a virtue, we summoned the authorities, and told the presidente that he had paid no attention whatever to his jefe's order; that we had had far too much difficulty in securing the bad accommodations we had been furnished; that their promise to prepare a suitable breakfast had been completely disregarded. We told them that our duty was to send immediate complaint to Tlaxiaco; that we would, however, give them one more chance. We should not stop for breakfast, but would proceed upon our journey hungry; if, however, we sent him further orders regarding our return journey, we should expect them obeyed to the very letter. With this we mounted.

In vain the presidente and officials begged us to wait, promising that everything should be prepared. Time was too precious, and away we rode.

Don Guillermo Murcio is a character. He and his family are almost the only mestizos in the place. He is a hale and hearty blacksmith, and has lived for fifteen years in this purely indian town, where he has gained almost unbounded influence among the simple natives. His word is law, and the town-government trembles before his gaze. He is impetuous in manner, quick-tempered, and on the slightest suggestion of disregard of his commands, freely threatens jail or other punishment. He received us cordially, and we lived at his house, where we were treated to the best that was available.

Our first glimpse of the town suggested a veritable paradise. At eleven the sky was clear, the sun almost tropical, the whole country smiled under its warm beams; but at two there came a change. Fogs, so dense as to shut out the view of what was across the road, drifted down from the summit on which we had seen cloud masses forming. Deeper and deeper, wetter and wetter, colder and colder grew the mist. All, wrapped in their thickest blankets, were shivering, crouched upon the ground, trying in vain to keep themselves warm. At first we thought this might be a rare occasion, but were assured that it is an every-day occurrence, and from our own experience of four or five days, we can easily believe the statement to be true. How any people can live in such a spot, suffering keenly twenty hours in the day, simply for the four hours of clear sunshine and warmth is inexplicable; and the nights were torments! Don Guillermo's house is well built of logs and plaster, but no house could keep out that bitter cold night air which chilled us, as we lay in bed, until we could hardly move.

DON GUILLERMO AND HIS FAMILY; CHICAHUASTLA

GROUP OF TRIQUIS; CHICAHUASTLA

VIEW AT CHICAHUASTLA

One evening, during our stay at Chicahuastla, Don Guillermo begged me to go into the kitchen to examine a baby, upon whom he was thinking of performing a surgical operation. The creature was a boy some three months old, pure indian. We had heard him crying at night ever since we had come, but had not seen him. A tumor, or some growth, was on his neck, below the chin. Don Guillermo handed me the razor, in order that I might remove the swelling, but I refused the task. The story of the child is sad. It is the son of a young indian boy and girl, not married. That would not be a serious matter among the Triquis. For some reason, however, the mother did not like the child, and scarcely was it born, when she went with it into the forest; there in a lonely place she choked it, as she thought, to death, and buried it in the ground. The town authorities, suspecting something of her purpose, had followed her and were watching at the moment. No sooner had she left the spot than they dug up the child, found it still alive, and brought it to Don Guillermo, who had kept it at the town's charge.

AT WORK; MEASURING

AT WORK; BUST MAKING

After an uneasy night, I awoke about five o'clock. Just as I was thinking of calling my companions, I felt a faint trembling, which rapidly increased to a heavy shaking, of the house in which we slept. There was a moment's pause, and then a second shaking, which began stronger than the other, but which lasted about the same time. It was the most serious earthquake shock we ever experienced in Mexico. Had the house been made of brick and plaster, considerable damage might have been done. Everyone was wide awake in an instant. The whole town was in excitement. The church-bell was rung and the people flocked out into the street. The shock passed at exactly 5:20, and, in other towns, notably in Oaxaca, it did considerable damage.

Two days before, we had sent word to the authorities at Cuquila, that we should breakfast with them on our way back to Tlaxiaco, and ordered them to be ready for our coming. This was the opportunity which had been promised them for redeeming themselves and avoiding complaint to their jefe. Arriving at the town at 9:40, we were met at the roadside by some of the officials, who led us at once to the town-house. Here the whole town government was gathered to greet us; politely each one, stepping forward, removed his hat and kissed my hand; they then invited us to sit down at the table and breakfast,—whereupon eggs, chicken, tortillas and frijoles—the best the town could supply—were set before us. The whole government sat by, looking on as we ate.

At Cuquila, we found that we should not meet Señor Cordova at Tlaxiaco. He had passed through the town the night before, on his way to Juxtlahuaca, with a band of soldiers to assist his neighboring jefe in maintaining order.

Leaving our Cuquila reprobates in friendly and gentle mood, we started for Tlaxiaco, where we arrived at half-past two. Something after four o'clock, we heard a violent ringing of the church-bell and saw the people flocking out onto the streets; looking up at the church-tower, although we did not feel the shock, we saw that the whole church was being violently shaken, and that the ringing bells, which we had heard, were not moved by human hands. This third shock of the day was more strongly felt in other districts, than with us. In the City of Mexico, three hundred miles away, it was the most severe of the day.

VIEW AT CHICAHUASTLA

TRIQUI CHILDREN; CHICAHUASTLA

MIXTEC POTTER; CUQUILA

THE MIXES REVISITED

(1899)

After resting at Oaxaca, from our trip into the high Mixteca, we made preparations for our new journey, leaving at three o'clock in the afternoon for the land of the Zapotecs and Mixes. Our late start compelled stopping at Tule for the night. In the morning we went on to Tlacolula, where we nooned, in order to see the jefe in regard to our work. He is a competent man, showed great interest in our plan, and gave valuable advice, in addition to the orders to his officials. He warned us that we might meet some difficulty at Milta, where we were planning to make our study of the Zapotecs, on account of the fiesta then in progress. He told us to notify him at once in case matters did not go well there.

IN TLACOLULA

TYPICAL ZAPOTEC HOUSE; TLACOLULA

ORGANO CACTUS; TLACOLULA

WHERE TREE FERNS GROW

Mitla is famous for its weaving; fine mantas of wool are made there in two chief styles—one a long strip of black or blue-black cloth, the other a rich red, sometimes banded or striped with black. These Mitla mantas are widely sold to Zapotecs, in all the district around, and form the characteristic women's dress. The Zapotecs of this district wear something on their feet that more nearly resembles true shoes than the footgear of any other Indians in southern Mexico. The sandal of the man has a projecting heel-flap which is bound around the ankles by means of thongs, and forms a good protection to the hind part of the foot. The women have not only such a flap, even higher than that used by the men, but also a broad strip of leather over the forward part of the foot, leaving the toes peeping out in front; between the heel flap and the toe covering, the foot is quite as well enclosed, excepting for the toes, as in a white man's shoe.

It was quite impossible, with the amount of work we had to do, and the difficulties under which we labored, to give the least attention to the ruins. We arranged, however, to make a photograph of the town authorities standing in the great court of one of the fine old buildings—a court the walls of which are covered with beautiful mosaic decorations, betraying taste and skill. The motley crew of half-drunk officials, miserably dressed, degraded, poor, in this scene of past magnificence, called up thoughts of the contrast between the government of old Mitla and the present,—of past magnificence and modern squalor.

THE CONTRAST; PAST AND PRESENT—MITLA

THE LAND OF THE MIXES

At Juquila the system of public crying from the plaza is fully developed. The town lies in a valley, and most of the houses are on slopes surrounding the little plain or terrace upon which the plaza is situated on which the government house is built. When aid was needed by the town authorities, whether zacate for our horses, food for ourselves, objects for inspection, or what not, one of the officers, whose business it seemed to be, stepped out upon the plaza, and, raising his voice would cry out what was needed by the authorities. Whoever had the things desired, coming out before their houses, would cry back the amount, description and variety of the articles they could supply. This we found to be the constant practice.

We noticed, what on the other trip escaped my attention, the profound difference in vegetation between the two sides of the hill upon the crest of which we were travelling. The one slope, cold and damp, was densely forested with trees, loaded with air-plants and orchids. The other slope, warmer and drier, was far less heavily grown, and in large part, with pines. Among the plants noticed by the roadside was a species of pinguicula which was very common on damp clay-cuttings. Its leaves form a close, flat rosette upon the ground, from which a slender stalk rises, with a a single crimson flower. When we reached the final descent to the town, we caught the full force of the cold, mist-laden wind, which struck our faces and made us shiver. Yet it was on this very slope, so frequently cold and wet, that the oaks, covered with air-plants and blooming orchids, were at their finest. Ferns in astonishing variety, from the most delicate, through giant herbaceous forms, to magnificent tree-ferns; lycopods of several species, and selaginellas, in tufts, covered the slopes; and great banks of begonias, in fine bloom, showed themselves. Before we reached the village we were forced to dismount, on account of the slippery condition of the road, and entered town on foot.

We found Ixcuintepec almost deserted; hardly any of the town officials were there. Almost everyone was off, working in the coffee fincas. We quickly saw that we had made a great mistake in waiting for our remaining subjects until this town. Not only were men conspicuous by their absence, but the women were extremely hostile. They objected to our photographing their houses or themselves. They drove the messenger whom I had sent to measure a house, for the purpose of making a miniature reproduction, off the premises with clubs. The mozos, who had accompanied us thus far, had no intention of going farther, and the problem of getting carriers—which had troubled us ever since we had left Mitla—assumed serious proportions. It was with great difficulty and much bluster that we secured the food we needed and the mozos. When the mozos came, three out of the four whom it was necessary for us to employ, were mere boys, the heartiest and best of whom was scarcely ten years old. In vain we declared that it was impossible for such little fellows to carry the burdens that needed transportation. It was plain that they were our only resource. Starting the three boys upon a short cut to San Miguel, the oldest mozo and ourselves went by another road to Coatlan. It was fortunate for us that the school-teacher at this town was interested in our work. We took possession of the schoolhouse, showed our orders to the officials, and, after much difficulty, obtained our wishes. The town was almost as deserted as had been Ixcuintepec, but after infinite difficulty, we succeeded in getting sufficient subjects to complete our work.

VIEW IN QUEZALTEPEC

Certainly, there must be a new and better road from Guevea to Santa Maria than the one we traversed in our other journey, and which again, following from memory, we used. It was a fearful trail, neglected and ruined, over slippery rock and rough, sharp-splintered stone. Still we pressed on rapidly, making even better time than we had been assured at the town that we might expect to make. Never were we more happy than in reaching Santa Maria, lovely in the moonlight, with its great church, fine municipal-house, cocoa-nut trees and thatched huts. Here was no sign either of the norther or the rain. The next day's journey was over the hot dusty road with glimpses now and then of the distant Pacific and Tlacotopec for destination. The following morning we pressed on toward Tehuantepec, through the dust and heat, reaching the city at noonday. To our great surprise, we found the mozos, with the plaster, the busts, and the boxes of plates, waiting for us since four o'clock in the morning.

ABOUT TEHUANTEPEC

(1899)

Three years ago, on my return from Guatemala, I met in this city an English doctor named Castle, who has lived here for many years—a man of scientific tastes and interests, who has employed his leisure in studying the botany, zoology, and indians of the district. He is well-informed, and one of the few persons acquainted with the Juaves. I counted on his help in approaching that curious and little-known tribe. The doctor's house is full of pets; eight different kinds of parrots, a red and yellow macaw, a brilliant-billed, dark-plumaged toucan, an angora goat, a raccoon, dogs and cats, are a part of the happy family that prowls at large in his house. A little creature, an indian, no more than eight years old, has adopted the doctor for her father. She had come to him as a patient for a trouble by no means uncommon here—night-blindness; in caring for her, he gained the little creature's heart, and she will hardly hear of leaving him to return home. The doctor accompanied us on our first visit to San Blas, and told us many things, not only of the Juaves, but of the Zapotecs and other indians of the region.

The visit to the Juaves we considered one of the most important and interesting of our journey. These people are conservative, and among the least known of the native populations of Mexico. There are but four towns, with a total population of probably less than three thousand persons. These towns are situated at a few leagues' distance from Tehuantepec, near the Pacific, upon narrow tongues of land, washed by salt lagoons. The nearest, largest, and according to Dr. Castle, the most conservative of the four towns, is San Mateo del Mar. We had hoped that Dr. Castle might accompany us on our journey. This, however, was impossible, but he suggested that he would go with us part of the way. To avoid the great heat, we travelled by night, as there was moonlight. Hiring a carretero at San Blas, we loaded our materials and instruments into the cart, and started it upon its way. At about four o'clock in the afternoon, we rode from Tehuantepec, taking a roundabout road in order to see the hill which gives name to the town. It was Sunday, and many women and girls had been visiting the cemetery, carrying bowls filled with flowers to put upon the graves of friends. We saw numbers of young fellows sitting by the roadside, and learned that they were the lovers of the young women, awaiting their return from the cemetery.

JUAVE INDIANS; SAN MATEO DEL MAR

JUAVE FISHERMAN: SAN MATEO DEL MAR

There is an interesting commerce carried on in Juave towns by Zapotec traders from Juchitan. As might be expected, this is entirely in the hands of women. Some women make two journeys weekly between the two towns. They come in ox-carts, with loads of corn, fodder, coffee, chocolate, cotton and the like. These they trade or sell. When they return to Juchitan, they carry with them a lot of salted and dried fish, shrimps, salt and eggs. Upon these expeditions the whole family accompanies the woman; the traveling is done almost entirely by night. These Zapotec women are shrewd at bargaining. They must be doing a paying business. It was interesting to see the primitive devices for weighing. The scales consisted of two tin pans of equal size and weight hung from a balance beam. The only weight was a stone weighing a pound. In case a Juave woman wished to buy a quarter-of-a-pound of cotton, the procedure was as follows: The weight was put into one pan of the scales and a pound of cotton weighed out into the other; the weight was then removed and the cotton divided, so as to balance in the two pans; one of the pans was then emptied, and the remaining cotton again divided, with the result that a quarter-of-a-pound of cotton had been weighed.

The water-life of the Juaves is at once picturesque and curiously tame. The men spend much of their time on or in the water. They make great dugout canoes from large tree trunks. There are usually no paddles, but poles are used to propel the craft sluggishly over the waters of the lagoon. Few of the men can swim. The fish are chiefly caught with nets, and both seines and throw nets are used. The lagoons are said to abound in alligators, and the men, when fishing, generally carry with them spears with long iron points which are said to be used for protection against attacks of these reptiles. Great respect is shown the alligator, and curious superstitions prevail regarding it.

The road to Tehuantepec at night was one of no adventure. We were impressed with the great number of families travelling in ox-carts over these roads in the cool night air. It was a custom and habit of which we had before no realization. It lacked but ten minutes of one o'clock when finally we rode up to the hotel in Tehuantepec. From the hostler we learned that every room was full,—five persons in some cases sleeping in a single room. So we were compelled to lie down upon the porch outside until the morning.

ON THE MAIN HIGH-ROAD

(1899)

There is little distinctive about the Chontals, as we saw them. The women dress much like the Zapotec women in the neighboring towns. The men present nothing notable in dress. Outside the plaza, the houses were built of light materials, and resembled the ordinary cane-walled, thatched huts of the Zapotecs. The people appeared to be badly mixed, and this not only with white, but also with negro blood. Nevertheless, as we worked upon subject after subject, a fairly defined type seemed to grow upon us. We could see that the Chontals are tall, with rather well-shaped faces, though somewhat high cheek-bones, with light complexions, and with wavy or curly hair. When the work was finished, we had great difficulty in securing carriers to bear our burdens to San Bartolo. Enormous prices were demanded, and at last, angry over the attempted extortion, we threatened to leave all our stuff behind us, and hold the town responsible, reporting them to the authorities when we should reach Oaxaca, demanding that damages should be collected. These threats had the desired effect. The secretario, who had been the only member of the town government displaying energy in our behalf, promised by all that was sacred that our goods should be delivered promptly at San Bartolo; that if they were not already there on our arrival, we might safely arrange for further transportation from that town, convinced that the goods would come before we left.

The people wear curious and characteristic garments.

VIEW FROM OUR CORRIDOR; SAN BARTOLO

OUR PARTY LEAVING TEHUANTEPEC

ZAPOTEC WOMEN AND GIRLS, TLACOLULA

We had expected at this town to secure a muleteer, as the one we hired from San Carlos had agreed to come only to this town. Here, too, we had expected to rent a new horse for Mr. Lang. Our muleteer, however, was much taken with the party, and declared that he should hire himself to continue with us to Tlacolula. We quickly arranged with him, and at four o'clock prepared to leave. The sick horse was then at its worst; it had lain down, and for a time we believed it was really dead; it was out of the question for it to go further; so, calling one of the villagers, I told him that he might have the horse, and if there was any possibility of curing, it, he should do what might be necessary.

Tlacolula is a large town, in the midst of a dusty valley. Its houses are large, rectangular constructions, well built of poles, with fine thatched roofs. They stand in yards, which are enclosed by fences of organ-pipe cactus. The people dress well, and at almost every house they own an ox-cart and a yoke of animals. While photographing there that afternoon, we suggested that we wanted a group of girls and women in native dress. "Very well; I will take you to the house, where you can get one." Arrived there, the policeman at once led out five women and four children, whom he placed in line. After the picture was taken, we expressed our satisfaction and surprise that so good a group had been so readily secured at a single house. "Oh, sir," he replied, "we struck a lucky time; there is a funeral going on there."

IN THE HOT VALLEY; CUICATLAN

CUICATLAN

(1899)

Between Tehuacan and Oaxaca the railroad passes through a low, deep valley which is ever hot. Few people on the train pass through this valley without feeling its depressing influence. It would seem that travelers would hardly stop at stations within its limits, unless impelled by actual necessity. The most important of the towns in this valley is Cuicatlan. Little of it is to be seen from the railroad, but in reality it is a notably picturesque village.

CACTUS; CIUCATLAN

Still the work went slowly. No one was left in town but the officials and some women. The latter locked and barred their doors, at the approach of any of the town authorities, and neither threats to burn their houses above their heads nor bribes would bring them forth. It was only after three days of hard work that eighty men and twenty-five women were secured. By that time, it was plain that the other men were safely out of reach, and we concluded that naught remained but to return to Cuicatlan, to complete our work with representatives from other towns. This we did, although we found our jefe still gentle, mild, and slow.

CACTUS NEAR CUICATLAN

VIEW IN A TLAXCALAN BARRANCA

When, however, we found ourselves at the station, waiting for the train, we looked back across the river to our three ruin-crowned hills. Then, for the first time, having visited the spot, we could clearly make out the relations. Three natural mountains or hills, the greater, central one flanked on both sides by lesser, had been utilized by the old builders; the natural rock masses had been cut and walled, until they practically formed masses of construction, rising terrace behind terrace, to the very summit. When the terraces were entire, with their temple-crowned pyramids, and with embankments and walls in full repair, these vast constructions must have been indeed impressive.

IN TLAXCALAN TOWNS

(1900)

A street-car line, running for most of the distance down hill, connects Santa Ana with Tlaxcala, the towns being separated by seven miles. When making this little journey to Tlaxcala in January, 1897, we noticed in the car with us, a stout, purely indian man, who seemed anxious to engage us in conversation. Knowing a few words of English, he was particularly anxious to practice them. He called our attention to the various villages, streams, and mountains in the country through which we were passing, and took delight in analyzing the native names and explaining their meanings. When we were returning in the afternoon, we met a gentleman who had been in the same car with us in the morning, and we inquired regarding our indian acquaintance. He told us that he was a full-blooded indian, whose native tongue was Aztec, and who lived in Santa Ana. Being the child of poor parents, the state had assisted in his education; he was now studying law in the city of Puebla. He was also a musician, and on this occasion had been upon his way to a public appointment, where he was to sing.

TLAXCALAN HOUSE WITH TEMASCAL.

THE MAPAHO IN USE; SAN JUAN ZAUTLA

Leaving at ten next morning, we skirted Santa Ana, and, having passed through San Pablo, came out upon the banks of the Sawapa. This pretty stream has reputed remedial power, and in May hundreds of people bathe in its waters, to protect themselves against small-pox. As we crossed the great stone bridge, we met a drunken indian who attached himself to our party. Between him and the Mexican members of our party, there arose hostility and an exchange of angry words. To us, personally, he was maudlinly affectionate and respectful. Finally, shaking him off, after climbing a considerable height, we stopped at Belen for a noonday rest and lunch. Dinner having been ordered, we seated ourselves in the shade, when our drunken friend again appeared upon the scene, and in great excitement, begged me to move, as it was certain death for a heated and perspiring person to sit in the shadow of a Peru tree. So persistent was he, that Quehcol and Manuel lost all patience, and ordered the local officials to arrest him.

IN THE CHINANTLA

(1900)

The road was slippery and muddy, descending constantly; a large portion of the way was through woods: at the

SAN JUAN ZAUTLA

bottom of the slope we found ourselves by a fine brook, which we forded. Then began an ascent as precipitous, slippery and unpleasant. The trail followed the bank of the stream. Passing through a dense jungle of vegetation, where the air was hot and wet, the flora was characteristic. Trees with large, coarse, broad pods enclosing two or three great seeds, trees with acorn-shaped red fruits, quantities of sensitive plants covered with pink flowers, occasional orchids bearing flowers of brilliant flame color, and vines with lovely blue pea-flowers made up the bulk of the tangled growth through which we passed. At two places we crossed pretty streams, with cascades and narrow gorges, opening on to the gorge along the sides of which we were travelling; where these streams crossed our trail there were great masses of caladiums with their leaves of green velvet. We passed two little coffee plantations, the first of which was sadly neglected and overgrown with weeds, the second neatly kept. From this we rose again, and having gained the summit, looked down upon the village of San Juan Zautla.

This man is a strange one. He is a Cuicatec, who married a Chinatec wife. He is little, but important. He ever carries a queer old sword. When he first appeared before us, he impressively said, "No tengas cuidado" (Have no care.) He told us that our comfort and our orders should be cared for, even though we were in a pueblo of mere brutes, unreasoning beings; he should charge himself and the officials with our needs. There were scarce three hours of daylight in the afternoon, and night set in chilly and damp. Meantime, the secretario, the segundo, the presidente and the topils, all had disappeared. In vain we urged that arrangements should be made for fuel, for beds, and for a mozo, whom we had ordered should be supplied to accompany the man from Papalo back to that town with the horses. It was now dark and late, with no sign of attention to our wishes. Through the darkness, we picked our way over a muddy road, slippery and soaked with water, to the secretario's house, where we forcibly made known our wishes, and said that attention must be paid to them. Before we got back to the town-house our shoes were soaked with water and heavy with mud, while our clothing was soaked through with moisture from the air filled with mist and drizzling rain; and this in the midst of the dry season!

CHINANTEC GIRL SPINNING; SAN JUAN ZAUTLA

CHINANTEC WEAVING; SAN JUAN ZAUTLA

For two days more, days of darkness, rain and cold that penetrated to the marrow, we remained prisoners in the village, waiting for the horses for which we had sent the day of our arrival. It was impossible to make photographs, nor was it feasible to look around the town, or into the adjoining country. The secretario, indeed, showed us the way in which spirits are distilled from the sap of sugar-cane, and we had ample opportunity to examine the dress of the people and the mode of weaving. All the women dress in garments of home-woven cotton, and the red head-cloths, so characteristic a feature of the dress of men and boys, are woven here from thread already dyed, bought in other places. The little figures of animals or birds or geometrical designs worked in them in green or yellow worsted are woven in, at the time of making the cloths, with bright bits of wool.

TO COIXTLAHUACA

(1900)

For a day we rested at Cuicatlan to make arrangements for a trip to the land of the Chochos. We complained bitterly to the jefe politico regarding the miserable animals which had been supplied us for our last journey, and demanded something better.

WOMEN WITH BABIES; SAN JUAN ZAUTLA

CAIRN, ON ROAD TO COIXTLAHUACA

COIXTLAHUACA

After having eaten, we stepped outside to visit with the crowd. Among them, several drunken men showed special friendliness. One of these insisted upon showing us an idol, which, from his description, should have been a rather beautiful piece. It turned out to be a very crudely-made head, wrought in coarse, cellular lava. Considering the material, the work was really fine; nor was it a fragment broken from the body, as there had never been more than what we saw. From here, a yet more drunken dulcero insisted on our going to his dulceria and bake-shop, where he told us that he had a much finer piece. We found he really had an enormous head, made of coarse, but rather bright, red stone; it was another example of the same type of separate head, a type which must be characteristic of the district.

We have already mentioned the plaza as large in proportion to the size of the town. On Sunday it was crowded, and while many things were bought and sold, the trade in sombreros surpassed all others. This is a specialty of all the district; throughout the Chocho towns, they make an excellent grade of palm-hats and everyone engages in the making. Both men and women braid palm, and in every yard there is excavated in the soft, tufaceous rock, a cueva, or cave, in which they work. Here the palm is left between times, and here two persons generally work together, each braiding at a hat, while a little cross, cut in the rock-wall, looks down upon the work, for good luck. These caves have a narrow opening upward and are scarcely large enough to admit the two persons who sit at their work. The object of the cave is to keep the work moist, as the plaiting cannot be well done, if the palm dries out.

Coixtlahuaca itself is largely a mestizo town. But immediately in its neighborhood, and on its outskirts, are indian villages. All Chochos know Spanish, and but few talk their own language. There is little of interest in their life and nothing characteristic in their dress, which is that of mestizos in general. But the physical type is well defined. The stature is small; the face is short and broad; the nose is wide and flat, with a fat, flattened tip; the hair is somewhat inclined to curl, especially on top behind.

CHOCHO HOUSES; COIXTLAHUACA

HUAUHTLA AND THE MAZATECS

(1900)

VIEW OF HUAUHTLA

They, themselves, had by no means spent a dull afternoon. The station agent and his lady wife had indulged in a vigorous battle. Both were drunk, shot revolvers recklessly, bit one another, tore hair, and clubbed most vigorously. The man finally took $6,000 in money out of the company's safe and left the station, vowing that he would never be seen again. Though the authorities at San Antonio had received the order to supply animals at six o'clock, it was after nine before they had the beasts ready for the travellers.

MAZATEC HOUSES; HUAUHTLA

MAZATEC WOMEN; HUAUHTLA

HEAVY BRAIDS; MAZATEC WOMEN; HUAUHTLA

The morning after our arrival, we witnessed a quadruple indian wedding in the church at seven. The brides were magnificent in the brilliant huipilis, and the godmothers were almost as much so, with their fine embroideries. The ceremony was much like that at Coixtlahuaca, already described. The bride put a silver ring upon the groom's finger, and he did the same by her; the priest put money into the man's hands, he transferred this to the woman, and she to the priest; single chains were hung about the neck of each of the party, both men and women; the covering sheet or scarf was stretched over all four couples at once, covering the heads of the women and the shoulders of the men.

MAZATEC FROM SAN LUCAS

MAZATEC FROM SAN LUCAS

THE BAND; MAZATEC BOYS AT HUAUHTLA

TEPEHUAS AND TOTONACS

(1900)

Upon this table they place many muñecos of paper; formerly these were made of the bark paper, but they are now made of ordinary paper bought in the stores. There may be so many of these that they cover the table an inch or two thick. The feasters shove money, usually small pieces of silver, beneath these figures. They then kill turkeys and hens and chickens, and sprinkle the blood from the headless bodies over the muñecos. This they do that Montezuma may be propitiated, and give them what they desire; the money and the muñecos, sprinkled with blood, are left upon the table after the feast, the former being stolen by passing mestizos.

THE PAGAN PRIESTESS AND HER ACOLYTE; SANTA MARIA

THE WITCH'S CAVE AT ATLA

INDIANS FISHING IN STREAM

PAGANISM AND CHRISTIANITY

We asked Don Pablo about the lake, concerning which we had heard. He says it is not as much visited as formerly. While used by Otomis, and others of this district, it is most favored by the Huaxtecs, parties of whom go there from long distances. They visit it when there is drought, for fear that the siren, who lives in it, is annoyed at their neglecting to make gifts; when there is too copious rain, they visit it to beg her to desist from sending more, and, when crops have been destroyed, to placate her anger. Sometimes two or three hundred indians are in these companies. They bring muñecos of wood, cloth, clay, or even metal; such are shod, clad and hatted. They leave these upon the shore. They also bring seeds and strew them in the water, and some throw money in. They also make offerings of turkeys and hens. Sometimes these bands spend several days on the shore, dancing and eating.

TOTONAC WOMEN; PANTEPEC

VIEW OF PANTEPEC

IN THE HUAXTECA

(1901)

VIEW AT TANCOCO

The physical type of the Huaxtecs seems to be well marked. A peculiar gray tint underlies the brown color of the skin. The head is short, broad, and curiously compressed behind; the eyes are wide apart, and frequently oblique; the mouth is large, with thick but not projecting lips.

We had planned to leave about the middle of the afternoon, and at 3:50 the best animals we have ever had were ready for our use. A magnificent horse, the special pride of the alcalde himself, was put at my disposal. When we came to settle for the animals, all payment was refused, their use being the voluntary offering of the town officials. The animals made nothing of the journey, and within an hour and a half we had again reached Tamalin.

As the result of vigorous remonstrance, the secretario really had the danza of los Negros at his house that night. Music was furnished by pito and huehuetl. The two performers, one representing a Spaniard and the other a negro, were masked. The action was lively, and the dialogue vociferous—both players frequently talking at once. The dance was kept up until nearly ten o'clock, after which, as we planned an early start, we were soon in bed. Just as we were dropping off to sleep, we heard the whistling and roaring of the norther outside, and the cold air found its way through every crack into our room. From our house the musicians and the dancers had gone to the syndico's, where they stayed some time; but, between one and two in the morning, they came back to our house and played in the room next to ours, with the door wide open. Our interest was not great enough to lead us forth again. Finally they left, but at four o'clock the musicians, now quite drunk, appeared again, and for a long time the secretario, his lady, and the school-master, danced in lonely grandeur up and down the room.

In other words, we had been crowded and delayed by more than two tons of cargo. Perhaps, had we been actually alone in the boat, it might have made its journey in the twenty-four hours promised, instead of the sixty of accomplishment. It was nine o'clock when we were again aboard, and we made the boatman travel all night long. At the stroke of half-past-three we heard the bells of Tampico, and drew up along the waterside-landing of that city. For two full hours we lay there, listening to the buyers bartering with the boatmen for their load of maize, frijol and panela untill daylight, when we gave orders to unload.

OUR CANOE FOR SIXTY HOURS; THE LAGOONS

MANGROVE ROOTS

IN MAYA LAND

(1901)

LOADING CATTLE; DOÑA CECILIA

MAYAS, RETURNING FROM WORK; SANTA MARIA

He seemed a rather nice young fellow, and was much impressed by the letter from his governor; he expressed himself as ready and anxious to serve us in every way, and made arrangements for us to begin work in the town-house, where, before dark, we had taken fifteen sets of measurements. This was a capital beginning, but the next two days our work fell flat. It was necessary to keep constantly at the jefe, and it soon became plain that he was making no great effort to secure subjects for us, on the assumption that we had better wait until Sunday, when there would be plenty of people without trouble to the police.

The ridge overlooking the town is of limestone, and is covered with a handsome growth of trees and grass. The terrace on which the hermita is built is flat and cleared; it is reached by a gently graded ascent, with a flight of wide and easy steps, now much neglected. The little building is dismantled, though there is some talk of reconstructing it. Behind it is a well of vile and stagnant water, which is reputed to cure disease. From the ridge a pretty view of Tekax is to be had, bedded in a green sheet of trees. The town is regularly laid out, and presents little of interest, though the two-storied portales and the odd three-storied house of Señor Duarte attract attention. There are also many high, square, ventilated shafts, or towers, of distilleries. From the terrace where we stood, in the days of the last great insurrection, the indians swept down upon the town and are said to have killed 2,500 of the people, including men, women and children.

MAYA DANCE; SAN JUAN

THE H'MEN WITH HIS SASTUN; SAN JUAN

MAYA HOUSE; SAN JUAN

FRESHLY-DIPPED CALABASHES, NEAR TEKAX

THE COACH THAT CARRIED US TO THE STATION; TEKAX

The three great industries about Tekax are sugar, hennequín, and liquor. Father Juan insisted that we should visit one of the local distilleries, of which there are fourteen in Tekax. Sugar, ground with water into a thick syrup, is drawn off from the mill into great vats, where it is permitted to ferment; it is then taken into the still, where it is heated and vaporized, and the vapor carried up into high towers for condensation. These three-storied, square, wooden towers, with ventilator-shafts, are one of the characteristic features of the town.

We were now but waiting for notice of a vessel sailing from Progreso for Coatzacoalcos. Writing, errands, visits, filled up the time, but it was dreary waiting. The muddy streets, the heavy, moist, fetid air, the outrageous prices, the mosquitoes—all combined to make a disagreeable experience. We worried through three days, and still no announcement of a boat. In a visit made to the bishop, to tell him of our kind reception in Tekax and to make inquiry regarding books printed in the Maya, we were again warned by the prelate to be most careful of our health; that day, he told us, two of our countrymen, working at the electric-light plant, had been stricken with yellow fever and would surely die. The second day we were in town the boys met Don Poncio, one of the Spanish comrades of the padre at Tekax, who, with another of the household, had run away, leaving the good priest alone, as the young fellow who had been ill in the room next ours developed a full case of yellow fever the day we left, and was dead before night.

THE XTOLES; Mérida

THE XTOLES; Mérida

CARNIVAL AT PROGRESO

CARNIVAL AT PROGRESO

OX-CART EXPERIENCES

(1901)

MANUEL AND AN IGUANA; TEHUANTEPEC

MARKET WOMEN; SAN BLAS

In the jefe's office we learned that during the past year not only Coatzacoalcos, but Tehuantepec, had suffered frightfully from yellow fever. Of course, the disease is no rarity on the Gulf coast, though it was never worse than in the last season; but in Tehuantepec, and on the Pacific coast, it is a thing so rare as to be almost unknown. So true is this, that, when it was first reported from this district, the federal government did not believe the story, and sent a commission to investigate. We learned that the commission arrived at evening, and, finding two persons dead in their black vomit on the street, made no further investigation, but started for Mexico on the following train. The spread of the disease to the west coast is generally attributed, and no doubt correctly, to the railroad. The disease was particularly fatal, in both places, to Americans and Englishmen, and it was whispered that 90 per cent of the employes of the new railroad management succumbed. The chief clerk in the jefe's office told us that, while many cases occurred here, no pure indians were taken, and that none of the mestizos who were affected died—the mortality being confined to the foreigners.

The station is situated on a somewhat elevated plain, constantly swept by heavy winds. While we were there, this wind was hot, and loaded with dust. In the afternoon, we walked through the indian town, which extends over a considerable area. The houses are rectangular, with adobe walls, mostly whitewashed, and with steep, pitched roofs. We met a funeral procession in the road, with the usual band in front. The coffin open, so as to show the child, was carried on the shoulders of several men. The mother, in contortions of real or simulated grief, was supported by two women, and the mourners brought up the rear, wailing now and then. Among the mourners was a woman who suffered from black pinto, notably developed. The principal industry of the town is pottery. The clay, which is of a greyish-black color, is stiff and hard, and is first broken up with a mallet. When worked into a stiff paste, it is built by hand into great ollas and plates, one and a half or two feet in diameter. These ollas we saw at many houses, and sometimes they were lashed to carts, plainly for bringing water from the stream. A single olla thus lashed, practically filled a fair-sized cart.

DRYING POTTERY; SAN GERONIMO

CART AND OLLA; SAN GERONIMO

THE DRUNKARD'S EXCHANGE; UNION HIDALGO

BEFORE REACHING UNION HIDALGO

A DAY REST; THE CARIZAL

MARIMBA PLAYING; HACIENDA DE ZAPOTE

AGUA BENDITA

MOVING THE GREAT STONE; AGUA BENDITA

AT TUXTLA GUTIERREZ

(1901)

ZOQUE MODE OF CARRYING BABIES; TUXTLA GUTIERREZ

FAT, RICH, AND PIXTA; TUXTLA GUTIERREZ

The first afternoon that we were working, a curious couple came to the jefe's office. The woman was not unattractive, though rather bold and hard in bearing. She was dark, pretentiously made-up, and rather elegantly dressed. The gentleman was a quiet, handsome fellow, dressed in sober black. When they sailed in, I supposed they were the jefe's personal friends. Sitting down, they showed interest in my work, and the lady in a rather strident voice, but with much composure, addressed us in English. Her knowledge of our language, however, proved to be extremely limited, being confined to such expressions as "How are you, sir?" "I am very well," "Yes, sir," "No, sir," and "I know New York." She was a mystery to the town, where she was commonly called "the Turkish lady."

ZOQUE WOMEN; TUXTLA GUTIERREZ

THE INDIAN ALCALDES; TUXTLA GUTIERREZ

Tuxtla Gutierrez is a capital city. It is also a busy commercial centre. Of course, the population is for the most part mestizo, and not indian. We had been surprised at finding so many indians in the city as there were. We were yet more surprised to find to what extent the houses of the city, though admirably built, were truly indian in style, presenting many points of interest. The walls of the "god-house" were heavy and substantial, smoothly daubed with mud, neatly plastered and often adorned with colored decorations. The "cook-house," slighter and less well-built, was made of poles daubed with mud, and rough with heavy thatching. The granary was elevated above the ground, and sheltered with its own neat thatching.

I was surprised the following morning when thirty-six subjects were produced; we knew that, for the moment, the building operations of the government palace were discontinued, and we suspected that all the work done by indians in Tuxtla was likewise temporarily ceased. When the last one had passed under the instruments, the jefe heaved a sigh, rang his bell for glasses, and the event was celebrated by a final draught of cognac.

ZOQUE DANCERS; TUXTLA GUTIERREZ

TZENDALS FROM TENEJAPA; COLD HANDS

TZOTZILS AND TZENDALS

(1901)

ZOQUE COMPADRES GREETING; TUXTLA GUTIERREZ

OUR FERRY-BOAT; CHIAPA

THE JAIL; SAN CRISTOBAL

TZOTZIL MUSICIANS IN SAN CRISTOBAL JAIL

TZOTZILS; HUIXTAN

TZOTZIL WOMAN; CHAMULA

The Tzendals of Tenejapa are picturesque in the extreme. Their dark skin, their long black hair, completely covering and concealing the ears, their coarse features, and the black and white striped chamaras of wool—which they buy from the weavers of Chamula—form a striking combination. They do but little weaving, their chief industry being the raising and selling of fruits. Most of the men carry a little sack, netted from strong fibre, slung at one side. Among other trifling possessions in it, is generally a little gourd filled with a green powder, which they call mai, or pelico. It consists chiefly of tobacco, with a mixture of lime and chili, and is chewed, no doubt, for stimulating properties—to remove the weariness of the road, and "to strengthen the teeth," as some say.

OSITION OF REST; TZENDALS, TENEJAPA

TZOTZILS FROM HUIXTAN

TZOTZIL BROTHERS; CHAMULA

TZENDAL FATHER AND SON; TENEJAPA

CLOSE OF MARKET, TENEJAPA

TZENDAL MAN AND WIFE; TENEJAPA

TZENDALS; TENEJAPA

THE TOWN GOVERNMENT; CANCUC

At 1:15 we started from the town, and rode down the crest of long, gently-sloping ridges, which seemed interminable. The rock over which we passed was red sandstone, mottled and streaked with green, red shale, and occasional patches of conglomerate. Crossing a little stream by a pretty bridge, we made an abrupt ascent, and soon saw the little town, Cuaquitepec, at the base of the opposite hill.

INDIAN CARRIERS RESTING

DRIVING PIGS, NEAR CANCUC

CHOLS

(1901)

THE TORO; FRAME AND BEARER; EL TRIUNFO

PLAYING TORO; EL TRIUNFO

As we were on the road, a little before we reached Tumbala, we found a company of indian boys making camp for the night. Calling to us, they said that Don Enrique had told them if they saw us on the road, to say that we should keep straight on to El Triunfo, as he had a message for us. We had never heard of Don Enrique, and thought there was some error, but after supper, the agente handed us a letter which had come that afternoon from the gentleman in question. In it we read: "Sir: Mr. Ellsworth, of the Rio Michol Rubber Co., Salto, asked me by telephone to tell you that he will be waiting for you the 4th of April in La Cruzada, and hopes that you will kindly accompany Mrs. Ellsworth as far as Mexico, and that, in case she would not find a steamer in Frontera, he is going to charter one. Hoping to see you here in Triunfo, and waiting for an answer to La Cruzada, I remain, Yours truly, H. Rau." This was a gleam of light amid our dark affairs. There we were, with all our baggage and instruments, but without carriers, deserted by our arrieros, and with no opportunity in Tumbala to secure new animals or helpers; it was like the voice of a friend, to receive this English letter from El Triunfo, and we felt that, if worst came to worst, Don Enrique might help us out.

CHOL WOMEN; LA TRINIDAD

The doors of the hospitable home at El Triunfo are ever open, and a day rarely passes without some traveller seeking shelter and entertainment. Spaniards, Mexicans, Germans, Englishmen, Americans, all are welcome, and during the few days of our stay, the house was never free of other visitors. Among these was Stanton Morrison, famous in Yale's football team in '92; he now lives in this district, and has a coffee finca four hours' ride away.

A CHOL FAMILY; LA TRINIDAD

CHOLS; LA TRINIDAD

CHOLS RESTING, LA TRINIDAD

INDIAN HUT; SANTA ANITA

GUADALUPE; DECEMBER 12

CONCLUSION

Reliable figures are wanting as to the number of pure Mexican Indians. If the population of the Republic be estimated at fifteen millions, it should be safe to say that five millions of this number are indians of pure blood, speaking their old language, keeping alive much of the ancient life and thought. In some parts of Mexico, it almost seems as if what white-blood once existed is now breeding out. The indian of Mexico is conservative; he does not want contact with a larger world; his village suffices for his needs; he is ready to pay taxes for the sake of being let alone, to live in peace, after the way his fathers lived. In his bosom there is still hatred of the white man and the mestizo, and distrust of every stranger. The Chamula outbreak in 1868, and the Maya war just ended, are examples of this smouldering hatred. Mexico has a serious problem in its Indians; the solution of the problem has been attempted in various ways, according to whether the population dealt with was Totonac, Yaqui, Maya: it is no small task, to build a nation out of an indian population.

Then the professor corralled those he wanted. He was to measure for scientific purposes 100 of the Indians, in the order in which they chanced to present themselves. After such wheedling as it must have taken infinite practice to acquire—pattings of the Zapotec back, hugging of the men, chucking the children, with elaborate explanations—the thing "took" and the people fell into the spirit of it. The jail was the only accessible building, and was strangely empty. It was of adobe, a jail of one room, with a dirt floor. There were no windows, only the single barred door.

The victim finally consents. Then the Mexican plaster worker, who has followed the caravan from its start, goes to work. He makes a cast of the back of the head and shoulders, and the Indian is turned over, face up. Another cast of the breast and neck and chin is made, and yet another of the front half of the head and the face, with little tubes for breathing sticking through it. The Indian has grunted, snorted, laughed and squirmed, but he has been made to understand that he must be still. That great 75 cents is held always over him, and the thing is accomplished.

During all the process, the crowd of Indians about and in the jail was eager-eyed and astonished. The women wear odd woolen, blanket-like skirts of red or black, folded in two great plaits down the front. The dress does not reach the ankles, and the feet are bare. They carry the baby on the back, wound in the rebozo, with its bare legs straddling her and sticking out. The men wear a sandal quite different from the ordinary Mexican footgear.

Of the 100 that were to be measured, Jose was one. Jose was of a better family, a character in the town, and proud. He rebelled. This breach of the professor's authority could not be allowed. Jose was summoned by the president of the town, the honeyed, affable "Señor Presidente," the same who had been called the drunken scoundrel, now accommodating, a true and emotional friend. Jose sent a thousand excuses, and finally defiance.

"That man," cried the professor, showing his writ of authority from the jefe politico of the district, "I order to be arrested."

In the afternoon, the work being done, the civilities and sugared conduct must be continued, with a view to future visits. The professor wanted to enter the church, which, though modern, stands in the middle of one of the mysterious ruins. The church was locked, and the mayor-domo not to be found.

"But I must photograph a strange picture you have in there."

"The mayor-domo is drunk, at your service, my most excellent friend," replied the president, sympathetically. "I am sorry, but he got under the influence three days ago at the beginning of the feast, and he has slept ever since. Ah, the mayor-domo is sleeping now, my excellent friend, and he has the keys."

"You shall send a boy into the tower to ring the bell and wake the mayor-domo," cried the professor.

The crowd sat on the stone steps, the bell was pealed, and at last the church was opened, and the picture photographed.

"You have great power. You need but to ask of those in Mexico and the band will come. Most beloved friend, oh, most excellent professor from the far north, give to us a brass band!" And the professor promised to speak to Minister Leal about it. Then, too, the beastly state government was dragging some of their precious ruins away to put in a museum. Would the professor please have the kindness to stop this? The professor promised to do what he could, and he was hugged and blessed and patted by the simple people.

CHARLES F. EMBREE.
[From The Chicago Record: March 24, 1899.]

In my recent trip to Mexico I planned to look for this spot among several Indian tribes. Out of six populations that I expected to visit I really saw but two—the Aztecs and the Mayas. I do not believe that the sacral spot exists among Aztecs. I made no search, because Aztec friends, who would be sure to know, all agreed in denying its occurrence. Among the Mayas, the case is different. In the little Maya town of Palenque I examined all the pure blood babies. The back of the first little creature bared for my inspection bore a clearly defined, dark blue-purple spot, just where it might be expected. The spot was almost two inches wide and nearly three-fourths of an inch high. The child was a boy of eight months. A brother, two years old, showed no trace of the spot, but the mother says it was formerly well defined.

Does this prove that the Mayas are Asiatics by ancestry? The daily press asserts that I make that claim; it is mistaken. I am free to say I don't know what to do with my spotted Maya babies. I presume that Baelz will cousin them with his little Japanese.

FREDERICK STARR.
From The Chicago Tribune: January 11, 1903.