THE LAND OF THE MIXES
(1896)
Santa Maria was the last Zapotec town; we were on the border of the
country of the Mixes. Starting at seven next morning, we followed a
dizzy trail up the mountain side to the summit. Beyond that the road
went down and up many a slope. A norther was on; cold wind swept over
the crest, penetrating and piercing; cloud masses hung upon the higher
summits; and now and again sheets of fine, thin mist were swept down
upon us by the wind; this mist was too thin to darken the air, but on
the surface of the driving sheets rainbows floated. The ridge, which for
a time we followed, was covered with a thicket of purple-leaved oaks,
which were completely overgrown with bromelias and other air-plants.
From here, we passed into a mountain country that beggars description.
I know and love the Carolina mountains--their graceful forms, their
sparkling streams and springs, the lovely sky stretched above them; but
the millionaires are welcome to their "land of the sky"; we have our
land of the Mixes, and to it they will never come. The mountains here
are like those of Carolina, but far grander and bolder; here the sky is
more amply extended. There, the slopes are clad with rhododendrons and
azaleas, with the flowering shrub, with strawberries gleaming amid
grass; here we have rhododendrons also, in clusters that scent the air
with the odor of cloves, and display sheets of pink and purple bloom;
here we have magnificent tree-ferns, with trunks that rise twenty feet
into the air and unroll from their summits fronds ten feet in length;
fifty kinds of delicate terrestrial ferns display themselves in a single
morning ride; here are palms with graceful foliage; here are orchids
stretching forth sprays--three or four feet long--toward the hand for
plucking; here are pine-trees covering slopes with fragrant fallen
needles. A striking feature is the different flora on the different
slopes of a single ridge. Here, too, are bubbling springs, purling
brooks, dashing cascades, the equals of any in the world. And hither the
tourist, with his destroying touch, will never come.
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.
After more than five hours of hard travel we reached the Mixe town of
Ayutla, and rode at once to the _curato_. The priest was not at home. It
was market-day, and people were in town from all the country round. The
men, surprised at sight of strangers, crowded about us; some gazed at us
with angry glances, others eyed us with dark suspicion, some examined us
with curious and even friendly interest. Many of them spoke little or no
Spanish. Thronging about us they felt our clothing, touched our skins,
saddles, baggage, and exhibited childish curiosity. The women at the
_curato_ spoke Spanish, of course; we told them we should stay there
for a day or two, and sent out for the _presidente_. On his coming, we
explained to him our business and asked leave to occupy the _curato_ in
the absence of the priest.
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 weird, 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.
[Illustration: A STREET IN SAN LORENZO]
[Illustration: AYUTLA]
There we found the _fiscal_, and I have rarely seen so drunk an
official. When drunk, he is violent and abusive, and it was plain that
the women at the _curato_ were afraid of him. More than one hundred and
fifty years ago Padre Quintana, who was the mission priest at Juquila,
translated the _Doctrina_ into Mixe and wrote a _Gramatica_ of the
language, both of which were then printed. We wished to secure copies of
these old and rare books, and asked the _fiscal_ if there were any here.
He promptly replied that he had one at his house, and invited us to go
there with him to see it. We at once started, and on our way had to pass
the drunken _presidente_ and the musicians. As we drew near them the
_presidente_, with drunken dignity, rose and said: "Where are you going,
Señores?" The _fiscal_ was for going directly onward without giving
answer; we hesitated and began a reply. Our delay was fatal; staggering
up to us, his Honor said: "I shall not permit you to go; this man is
drunk; he will be dangerous. I am responsible for your safety." The
_fiscal_, standing at a little distance, cried: "Señores! shall we go?"
We started toward him; the _presidente_ interfered: "No, Señores,
you shall not go to-night; the man is drunk; return to your house."
"_Vámonos_," (Let us go) hiccoughed the _fiscal. "Mañana_," (to-morrow)
hiccoughed the _presidente_. The _fiscal_ stormed; the _presidente_
threatened him with jail, ordered him home, and with a body-guard
for our protection led us to our room. Scarcely able to totter, the
_presidente_ assured us that drunken men were dangerous and ought not
to be trusted; at the same time he produced his bottle and offered us
a drop to warm us. It required tact and time to get rid of him and
his corps of protectors. Early the next morning both of these worthy
officials, _presidente_ and _fiscal_, still drunk, called upon us with
the book--a _Doctrina_ of 1729. With the _presidente_ were two stalwart
fellows, intended, as he whispered to us audibly, to handle the
_fiscal_ in case he became dangerous. The audience ended, and the party
dismissed, the _presidente_ stood in the road until the _fiscal_ had
started for home, when he left for the town-house. The _fiscal's_
home-going, however, was mere pretense. No sooner was the _presidente_
gone than he came staggering into the _patio_ of the _curato_. The women
ran into our room, in terror: "The _fiscal_ comes; bar the door; do
not let him in." A moment later a feeble rap at the door, a call and
a mournful request for admission; the barricaded door gave no
encouragement. At intervals through the morning there came the flying
maids: "He comes! don't let him in." Again and again the barricade;
again and again, the vain appeal for entrance. We left Ayutla at noon.
We had scarcely well started when we heard some one calling behind us.
Turning, we saw the _fiscal_, running unsteadily toward us. We waited;
he came up out of breath. "_Ya se va_?" (Now you are leaving?) "_Si,
señor_," (Yes, sir.) With a look of despair he removed his hat, and
fumbling in its depths produced two cigarettes; presenting one to each
of us, he waved his hand as we rode away and cried: "_Adios! señores_."
For some distance our road led up a cañon. Reaching its head, we gained
the pass at two o'clock. A wonderful sight here presented itself. Above
us was a brilliant blue sky--cloudless; every detail of the rock crest
upon which we stood was clear. Forested to its summit, the ridge formed
the half of a magnificent amphitheatre, whose slopes had been vertically
furrowed at a hundred points by torrents; to the left a spur projected,
the crest of which sloped gently downward, forming an enclosing wall
upon that side. Before us, beyond the valley, was a boundary line of
mountain masses, sharply outlined against the sky. Lower ridges, nearer
to us, paralleled this distant rampart. The only apparent outlet from
this valley was around the spur to our left. Looking down upon this
magnificent valley, we saw it occupied by a sea of clouds, the level
surface of which looked like a lake of water flecked here and there with
whitecaps. The higher hills within the valley rose like islands from the
water; to the left a mighty river seemed to flow around the spur, out
into a boundless sea of cloud beyond. The level surface of this lake,
river, and sea of clouds was hundreds of feet below us.
From this summit, our trail plunged downward into this sea of mists.
When we reached its upper surface, which was plainly defined, little
wisps of mist or cloud were streaming up along the furrowed channels of
the mountain walls. As we entered the lake of cloud the sunlight became
fainter, uprushes of cold mists struck us, gloom settled, denser and
denser grew the fog, drops of condensed vapor dripped from the trees
under which we passed. At the bottom of the valley, we could scarcely
see a dozen yards in any direction. We were passing along meadows, like
those of New England, with brakes, sunflowers, and huckleberries; here
and there were little fields of wheat or peas. The fog was too dense for
us to know whether we lost fine scenery. We saw nothing of the little
villages through which we passed. On and on we plunged along the trail,
until it began an ascent of a ridge, almost like a knife-edge, with
steep slopes on both sides. When we had reached the summit of this
ridge, we found the trail level, through a growth of oak trees which
were loaded with bromelias and orchids. Though still dim, the light had
brightened as we rose to higher levels. Graceful ferns and sprays of
terrestrial orchids overhung our trail at every cutting or slope. One
spray, which I plucked as I rode under it, was more than a yard in
length, and its curiously colored brown and yellow flowers were
strangely like insects in form. At one level summit of our ridge, we
came upon a little whitewashed building of adobe, dome-topped, with no
windows and but one little door. Pushing this open, I entered through
a doorway so narrow that I had to remove my hat, and so low that I was
forced to bend, and found myself in a little shrine with a cross and
pictures of two or three saints, before which were plain vases filled
with fresh flowers, the offerings of travelers. We added our spray of
orchids before we resumed our journey.
For three hours, during which no distant view had delighted our eyes, we
had traveled in the mists; we had almost forgotten that the sun could
shine. At the end of a long, narrow ridge, where it joined the greater
mountain mass, we found a rest-house. Here the trail turned abruptly
onto the larger ridge, mounted sharply through a dugway, and then to our
complete surprise emerged into the fair sunlight. The clear, blue sky
was over us, and directly below us, at our horses' feet, was the flat
top of the sea of clouds. A moment more and we rose to a point of view
from which the grandest view of a lifetime burst upon our vision.
Opposite, the evening sun was nearing the horizon, before and below us
lay the valley; we were upon the very edge of a great mountain slope. To
our right lay the cloud mass, which was all in movement, precipitating
itself down the slope into the profound valley. It was a river of
vapors, more than two miles, perhaps, in width, plunging, perhaps, two
thousand feet into the abyss. Niagara, which I have often seen, is a
pigmy cataract in comparison. The cloud mass tossed and heaved, whirled
and poured in one enormous sheet over the precipice, breaking into spray
as it struck against projecting rock masses. Every movement of whirling
and plunging water was there; the rapid above the fall, the plunge, the
whirlpool, the wild rush of whirlpool rapids, all were there, but all
silent, fearfully and impressively silent. We could have stood there
gazing for hours, but night was coming and a stretch of unknown road
still lay before us. At the other end of the valley, in the dusk of
early evening, we saw a second cataract pouring in. From both ends the
cloud rivers were rushing in to fill the valley, along the edge of which
we crept. And presently we plunged down again into the mists; night
fell; our trail was barely visible, and we had to trust to our horses to
find it; the air was cold and penetrating. Long after dark, we rode into
Juquila.
[Illustration: CLOUD CATARACT; NEAR JUQUILA]
[Illustration: 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.
Very early in the morning, all the town officials, except the
_presidente_, came to apologize for the occurrence of the night. They
announced that the _presidente_, realizing what he had done, had taken
to the mountains, and asked what they could do for us. We ordered fodder
for our hungry beasts, food for ourselves, and a place of shelter. The
town-house was offered to us, and we were moved into those quarters with
due ceremony.
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.
[Illustration: ROAD APPROACHING QUEZALTEPEC]
While this drama was being enacted under the shade-tree, another
amusement, in connection with the _fiesta of_ _San Marcos_, was in
progress in front of the church. The musicians with the long horns made
doleful music; a dozen gayly-costumed dancers took part. They wore dark
trousers slitted up the sides; bright kerchiefs, with the point hanging
down in front, were tied about the waists; crowns of plumes were on
the heads; red vests and kerchiefs, crossed at the neck, completed the
costume. One player, who seemed to be a leader, carried a tri-colored
flag; another represented a man on horseback, by creeping into a frame
of sticks, covered with cloth, in the shape of a horse. They danced in
the full sunlight for hours; their movements were varied and pretty,
quite different, too, from the figures in the _danza de la Conquista_.
Two outside characters played the clown. One of these was a little lad
dressed in a garment representing a tiger-skin, while over his face he
wore a heavy, old wooden mask, imitating an animal's head. The other
was older, dressed in a leather suit, with a wooden mask like a
vacant-looking human face. These two were very popular, and indulged
in many acts that bordered on the obscene. We got no satisfactory
explanation of this whole performance. The _cura_ said that it
represented the conflict between Christ and the Jews; this we greatly
doubted.
Mixe roads avoid no mountains, and usually go straight up one slope and
down the other. The Mixe villages are set upon the very crests, or upon
little terraces a few hundred feet below the crest, or the summit of
some spur that juts out from the great mountain mass, of a long and
narrow ridge. The road from Juquila, by Ocotopec to Quezaltepec was
beautiful and typical. The ascent, just before Quezaltepec, was
magnificent. We had a letter of introduction from the _cura_ at Juquila
to the schoolteacher at Quezaltepec, and therefore rode directly to the
school. The four boys who were in attendance were promptly dismissed and
the _maestro_ was at our disposition. He was a _mestizo_, and possessed
the art of lying in a fine degree, like so many of his kind. This man
set us an excellent supper, having asked us beforehand what we would
like. We replied that we would be glad to have fresh meat, if there was
any to be had. He replied, "There is always fresh meat here; someone
kills every day." It really appeared in the dinner, but, as we ate it,
our host remarked--"Gentlemen, it is indeed lucky that you arrived here
just now, because to-night we have fresh meat, and like enough a month
will pass before anyone in town kills again." Our teacher friend fully
appreciated his opportunity, and we paid a large price for our meal,
with its fresh meat, our beds on the school benches, and the fodder
supplied our horses. The next day being Saturday, the _maestro_ offered
to accompany us to Ixcuintepec, where his half-brother, the local
teacher, would welcome our coming and arrange for our entertainment.
Passing Camotlan, we entered a magnificent gorge, along one side of
which we climbed, passing in front of lovely cascades and having
magnificent outlooks. While we were on this trail, we encountered the
_maestro_ from Ixcuintepec, who was on his way to Quezaltepec to spend
his holiday. A whispered word with his half-brother, our companion,
quickly changed his plan, and he accompanied us. Upon this trail we
found our first swinging foot-bridges made of _lianas_, or vines,
hanging from trees. These are, of course, only suitable for
foot-travellers, but are a great convenience, where streams are likely
to be swollen. Two or three long and slender vines, laid side by side
and lashed together, form the footway, which is swung from one tree to
another; other _lianas_ are stretched across as side rails, smaller
vines being twined in between and around them to hold them in place;
long vines, pendant from the high branches of the supporting trees, are
fastened to the upper rails to steady and anchor these frail bridges,
which swing and yield with every weight.
[Illustration: TREE FERN IN TROPICAL FOREST; QUEZALTEPEC]
[Illustration: CASCADE, NEAR QUEZALTEPEC]
Ixcuintepec is upon one of the most abrupt ridges of this whole
district. We went first to the schoolhouse, where our animals were to
be guarded in a little open space before it; then we walked over to
the _curato_ which was being prepared for us. We had ordered _zacate_
(fodder) for our animals and had divided it suitably between them. We
ate our own meal, took a turn around the town, and were about to go to
our quarters for the night, when Ernst noticed that the fodder, for
which we had paid an outrageous price, had completely disappeared from
before the two horses, although the pile before the mule had diminished
but little. No doubt the two school teachers could have explained this
mysterious disappearance; we could not, however, tax them with theft,
but we made so much fuss over the matter that the officials brought a
new supply. While I went to our room to write up my notes, Ernst sat in
the gathering darkness watching the animals, as they ate, to prevent
further robbery. I was busily writing, listening now and then to the
fierce gusts of a gale that was blowing without, when the door burst
open and Ernst, greatly excited, called me to follow, and we hastened
to the place where our animals were tied. There we found that the great
tree under which Chontal, the little mule, had been feeding, had been
torn by the tempest and half of it had fallen upon the animal, bearing
it to the ground. The crash had come without a moment's warning.
Fortunately, the mule was unhurt, though it could not move until the
branches which had crushed it to the earth had been cut away with axes.
When we had released the beast and were retiring to our quarters, we
saw a sight never to be forgotten. Looking down from our crest into the
valley and across upon the other ridges and mountains beyond, we saw
that the camp-fires of charcoal-burners and wayfarers had been fanned
by the winds and spread into the forest until a dozen great lines of
blazing trees lit up the landscape in every direction.
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.
[Illustration: FIESTA OF SAN MARCOS; JUQUILA]
[Illustration: BRIDGE OF VINES, NEAR IXCUINTEPEC]
At the first indian house, we asked if we might have shelter for the
night. The owner cordially answered, "_Como no? señores_," (Why not?
sirs). He explained, however, that there was nought to eat. After eating
elsewhere, we made our way back to our lodging-place, a typical Zapotec
hut, a single room, with dirt-floor, walls of canes or poles, and thatch
of grass. The house contained a hammock and two beds of poles, comforts
we had not known for days. I threw myself into the hammock; Ernst lay
down upon one of the beds; the man and woman, squatting, were husking
corn for our horses; a little girl was feeding a fire of pine splints,
built upon the floor, which served for light. As they worked and
we rested the man asked that question which ever seems of supreme
importance to Mexican indians, "_Como se llama Ud. señor_?" (What is
your name, sir?). "Ernst," replied our spokesman, to whom the question
was addressed. "_Y el otro_?" (And the other?), pointing to me. I
replied for myself, "_Federico_." The man seemed not to catch the word
and badly repeated it after me. "_No, no_," said the much quicker
woman, "_Federico! Federico! si, señor, nosotros tenemos un Federico,
también_," (Yes, sir, and we have a Frederick, also). "Ah, and where is
he?" "He will come, sir; we have four boys, Luca and Pedrito, Castolo
and Federico; Federico is the baby; the little girl, here, is between
him and Castolo; they are working in the coffee-field, but they will
soon be here." At nine o'clock the little fellows appeared. They lined
up in the order of age, placed their hands behind them, and waited to be
addressed. Castolo, then about ten years of age, most pleased me, and
I asked him, among other things, whether he could read and write. His
father answered for him, that he could not read or write; that the
opportunities were not good; but that he believed Castolo _could_ learn,
that he had a good mind. At this point the mother spoke to her husband
in Zapotec. Some argument ensued, in which at last she triumphed.
Turning to me, the man said: "She says you may have Castolo; you may
take him to your country and there he can learn to read and write and
whatever else you wish." It was not altogether easy to refuse this gift;
finally I replied that we had a long journey ahead and that Castolo
would weary on the road; that he had better wait until some later time.
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."
[Illustration: SANTIAGO GUEVEA]
We were now ready and found that the three boys, Luca, Pedrito, and
Castolo, were waiting to accompany us as far as our roads were the same.
They were to go on foot, five leagues, into the mountains to bring back
some mules from a camp; they expected to reach their destination that
day, to sleep on the mountain, and to bring in the animals the next day.
The little fellows, from thirteen to nine or ten years old, seemed to
find nothing extraordinary in their undertaking; each carried his little
carrying-net, with food, drinking-gourd, and an extra garment for the
chilly night, upon his back; Pedrito buckled to his belt the great
_machete_, which men here regularly carry for clearing the path, cutting
firewood, or protection against animals. They were very happy at
accompanying us for a distance. We soon rose from the low, malarial,
coffee _fincas_ onto a fine mountain, which was the last of its kind
that we saw for many days; it was like the mountains of the Mixes,
with its abundant vegetation of ferns, begonias, and trees loaded with
bromelias and orchids. Our bodyguard kept up with us bravely until we
had made one-half of the ascent, where they fell behind and we saw them
no more. Reaching the summit, we saw before us a distant line of blue,
interrupted here and there by some hill or mountain,--the great Pacific.
From here on, the beauty of the road disappeared. We descended and then
mounted along dry slopes to Santiago Guevea, then hot and dusty. Our
friends of San Miguel really live in Guevea and are at San Miguel only
when the coffee needs attention. From Guevea the road was hard and dry
and dusty to Santa Maria. The mountain mass over which we passed was
a peak, the summit of which was covered with masses of chalcedony of
brilliant colors, which broke into innumerable splinters, which were
lovely to see but hard upon the feet of horses; the surface of this part
also gave out a glare or reflection that was almost intolerable. We
descended over granite which presented typical spheroidal weathering.
We went onward, up and down many little hills, reaching Santa Maria at
noonday. The village sweltered; the air scorched and blistered; there
was no sign of life, save a few naked children playing in the shade or
rolling upon the hot sand. It was so hot and dusty that we hated to
resume our journey and tarried so long that we had to ride after
nightfall before we reached the _rancho_ of Los Cocos, where we lay in
the corridor and all night long heard the grinding of sugar-cane at the
mill close by.
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.