CHOLS

(1901)

Of course, after such a start, we were delayed in getting the animals ready for the journey, and the sun had been up full half an hour when we left. It was a short ride to Hidalgo, which lies prettily in a small, flat valley, on a good-sized stream. We were doubtful about our reception, for Yajalon was the last town in Valencia's district, and we had no documents to present to the town officials, until we should reach El Salto, the cabecera, except our general letter from Governor Lopez. It is true that the presidente of Yajalon, at our request, had telephoned Hidalgo that we came highly recommended, and that everything possible must be done for our assistance. The agente was an old man, suffering from headache, who showed but listless interest in our work. In a general way, he gave us his endorsement, and we, therefore, took the management into our own hands. He had kept the people in town, so that we had subjects, though fewer than we had hoped. We measured twenty-seven men, and there were really no more in the town, the rest being away on fincas. The men gave us no trouble, but the women were another matter. Several times we issued orders that they be brought to the town-house for measurement, and each time, after an effort to obey our orders, we were told that they would not come. "Very good," said I, "if they will not come, it is plain that we must go and measure them in their houses." Accompanied by the town government, we started on our rounds. The first house was tightly closed, and no reply was made to our demands for entrance. The second was the same; one might imagine that it had been deserted for weeks. At the third, the door was opened, and within, an aged woman, ugly, bent, decrepit. Here we measured. The next house, and the next, and the next, were shut. And then another open house contained another veritable hag. Passing several other houses, tightly closed, we found a third old woman, and I saw that we were destined to secure nothing but decrepit hags, as representatives of the fair sex. At the next closed house, I stopped, and turning to an official, who spoke Spanish, said, "I am tired of these closed houses; who owns this house?" His name was given, and I wrote it down. "Very well," said I, "I shall recommend to the jefe of the district, when I reach El Salto, that he be made to pay a fine of five pesos." At this, the town officials gasped, but we walked to the next house, which was also closed. "Who owns this house?" And down went a second name. By the time I had three names of owners of closed houses on my paper, the officials held a hasty whispered consultation; then coming to me, they begged me to excuse them for a moment, as the secretario would accompany me upon my round, and they would soon rejoin us. With this, they disappeared, and we entered another old woman's house. When we emerged, a wonderful change had taken place; every house in the village had its door wide open, and in the doorway were to be seen anywhere from one to three or four ladies of all ages. From this time on, there was no lack of women, and the twenty-five were promptly measured.

We had picked out our subjects for modeling before we started on our rounds to measure women; and had left Ramon in charge of that part of our work, staying only long enough to see him make the mould of the first subject. This was an indian, named Juan, the first alcalde of the village. We had carefully explained the operation to our subjects; we had described in detail the sensations and emotions connected with the thing, and thought we had the subjects well prepared. When Juan began, he seemed to have good courage, but we told a young fellow, who sat near and understood Spanish, that he should tell the man certain encouraging things which we repeated to him. The translation was promptly done, and we were therefore much surprised to see our subject's confidence gradually give way to terror. While we were applying the first mould, he began to sob and cry like a child; this was, however, nothing compared with the abject terror and sorrow which he displayed while we were making the face-mould. The tears flowed from his eyes; he sobbed, cried aloud, and we could see the thumping of his heart against his chest. We had never had a subject who took the matter so hardly. When the operation was completed, we learned the cause of all this trouble. Our interpreter turned out to be a joker, and, while we were telling him encouraging remarks, with which to soothe the subject, he was saying, "Now you will die; pretty soon you will not be able to breathe any more; you will be dead and buried before to-morrow; your poor widow will no doubt feel badly, but probably she will find another quite as good as you." We had always realized the possibility of such misinterpretations, but, so far as we know, this was the only time that our interpreter ever played us false.

On our return from measuring the women, we found that Ramon had made no progress. The three subjects, whom we had selected and left in his charge, under strenuous orders, had taken fright at Juan's experience and fled. We lost two hours in hunting them and bringing them in; and we should not have succeeded then, had it not been for Juan's assistance. He seemed to feel that, having undergone the operation, it might ease his position, and decrease possible danger, if he had companions in misery. Finally, at 4:30, long after the hour we had set, we left for Tumbala. We secured six cargadors—one each for the four moulds, one for the instruments, and one for the remaining plaster,—as our pack-animals had long since passed. Five of them were left to follow at their leisure, on condition that they reach Tumbala early the next morning, but the sixth, a wee old man, who had helped us woman-hunting, went with us, by his own request, to carry the instruments. He was so small that we did not believe he could carry the burden, but he made no sort of trouble about it, trotting along most happily. We had been told that the road was pura subida—pure ascent—and so we found it. We were soon in the tropical forest of the Chinantla, and the land of the Mixes, with begonias, tree-ferns, bromelias, and orchids. Here and there, were bad bits of road, deep mud, slippery stones, irregular limestone masses. It was dark before we reached Tumbala, and although there was a moon, the mists were so dense that it did little good. Arriving at 6:45, we found the town a wretched place, with a worthless and nerveless agente. This was once the largest of the Chol towns, and we had thought to do the bulk of our work there. It is fortunate, indeed, that we stopped at Hidalgo, because Tumbala is now completely ruined by the contract-labor system, which has sent its men all through the country onto fincas. The agente would probably have done nothing for us, but his little daughter, much impressed by our letter from the governor, took an active interest in our welfare, promised to prepare a dinner, and decided him to give us sleeping-quarters in a store-room in the building. He thawed a little after we had eaten, but spoke discouragingly regarding the possibility of working there. He said we would do well to go to El Triunfo; that it would take two days to find indians and bring them to the town; that there were no animals, nothing to eat, no conveniences in Tumbala, in all of which he probably was quite correct. Our arrieros had contracted only to this point from San Cristobal. We urged them to make the further journey, and offered them a price much above the regular, but they wanted to be back in San Cristobal for Holy Week, and assured us that the roads ahead were the worst that could be imagined, and that they ran the risk of killing all their animals if they went with us.

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.

The room in which we slept was filled with stored stuff and two tables. On one of these I made my bed, while my companions spread a large petate on the floor, and our little indian carrier put down a small one for himself, as he declared he should not leave us until morning. He had a good supper, and in a fit of generosity, presented Louis with what was left of his package of posole. With much enthusiasm, he told us of an "animal" which he had seen and tried to catch upon the road. From his description, it appeared to be an armadillo. Before he lay down on his petate, he kissed my hand, wished me a good night's rest, and asked my good-night blessing. He was happy in possession of a real's worth of aguardiente, from which, at intervals during the night, he drank. Early in the morning, he opened the door, and, looking out, crossed himself, and repeated his morning prayer. He then came to Tatita (little father) to receive his morning's blessing, and hoped that I had passed a good night in slumber. He then brought me a jícara of cool, fresh water, after which he urged me to take a sip from his dear bottle. Going outside a little time, he returned with two roses, heavy with dew and very fragrant, and gave them to me as if they were a gift for kings. Very soon, however, his potations got the better of him, and bidding us a fond farewell, he started for Hidalgo.

It was my day of fever, and I spent the greater portion of the morning on my hard bed, getting up from time to time to try to move the agente to procure an animal, on which I might make the journey to El Triunfo. Finally, in despair, after difficulty in securing a foot-messenger, I sent a letter to Don Enrique, asking him to send an animal for my use. During the afternoon, a fine mule and a letter came from El Triunfo. "Sir: The boy brought me your letter, and I send you a good mule for yourself, so we shall talk all the rest when you shall get here. If you need more pack-mules I will send them afterwards, as soon as you tell me how many you need. Hoping to see you this afternoon, I remain, Yours very truly, Henry Rau." The road was down hill, and there were but two or three bad spots. I rode through tropical forests, the whole distance, with high trees, bound together with a mass of vines, and loaded with parasitic or aerial plants. Here and there, rose the largest tree-ferns I have ever seen. I was not in the best mood, however, for enjoying the journey, and the hour-and-a-quarter seemed like much more. The great coffee finca of El Triunfo occupied an irregular valley, the slopes of which were covered with thousands of coffee-trees, with their magnificent dark green leaves and sweet-scented, white flowers. Three hundred and fifty thousand trees made up the plantation, which was one of two owned and managed by Señor Rau. The house was large, and rather pretentious, two stories in height, with buildings for cleaning, packing and storing coffee on the same terrace, and with a veritable village of houses for the indian workmen down below. I received a warm reception from the Señor and his household, who have established here a veritable bit of Germany in tropical America. Not only was I myself cared for, but I was urged to make no haste in going further, as no steamer would go from La Cruzada before the 4th, and it would be easy to reach that place in twenty-four hours. So, for several days the hospitable plantation-house was my home. Great lines of mules were constantly going from here, through to El Salto and La Cruzada, with loads of coffee, and coming back with provisions, and the many supplies necessary for an establishment of this importance. When the next mulada should appear, animals would be sent to Tumbala for my companions and the luggage. Curiously, none came for two whole days—a very unusual occurrence—and the boys remained prisoners in that dreary town for all that time. For my own part, I was thankful to reach a place where a comfortable bed and certain meals were to be counted on. My fever left me, but the following morning I found myself suffering from swollen jaws; every tooth was loose and sore, and it was difficult to chew even the flesh of bananas; this difficulty I had lately suffered, whenever in the moist mountain district of Pennsylvania, and I feared that there would be no relief until I was permanently out of the district of forest-grown mountains. Nor was I mistaken, for ten days passed, and we had reached the dry central table-land of Mexico, before my suffering ended. One day, while we were on the finca, considerable excitement was caused by one of the Indians working in the field being bitten by a poisonous serpent. The man was brought at once to the house, and remedies were applied which prevented serious results, although his leg swelled badly. The serpent was killed, and measured about five feet in length, having much the general appearance of a rattlesnake, but with no rattles. Don Enrique says that the most dangerous snake in this district is a little creature more brightly colored, with a smaller head, which is less markedly flat, and with smaller fangs; he showed us one of these, not more than a foot in length, from whose bite a man on the plantation, a year before, had died. In telling us of this event, he gave us a suggestion of the working of the contract-labor system; the man who died owed one hundred and forty pesos of work—almost three years of labor; the jefe, indeed, had sent the son to work out the debt, but the young man soon ran away, and the most diligent effort to recapture him had failed.

CHOL WOMEN; LA TRINIDAD

Perhaps two hundred persons lived as workmen on the finca of El Triunfo. They were, of course, all indians, and were about evenly divided between Tzendals and Chols; it was impossible to gather them for measurement till Sunday, when they all came to the house and the store. It was a day of amusement and recreation for the laborers, a day when all of them—men, women, children—drank quantities of liquor. It was interesting to watch them as they came up to the store to make their little purchases for the week. All were in their best clothing, and family groups presented many interesting scenes. On Sundays and fiestas, they play toro—one man creeping into a framework of light canes covered with leather, meant to represent a bull, while others play the part of bull-fighters. The Chols present a well-marked type. They are short, broad-headed and dark-skinned; their noses are among the most aquiline in Mexico. Men, especially those of Tumbala, have a characteristic mode of cropping the hair; that on the back of the head is cut close, leaving the hair of the forward third of the head longer. The men are almost immediately recognized, wherever met, by the characteristic camisa, made of white cotton, vertically striped with narrow lines of pink, which is woven in the Chol towns, and does not appear to be used by other Indians.

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.

Finally, at 10:10 Tuesday morning, April 2d, having completed all our work, we started from El Triunfo for our last ride of the season. We could easily have gone, starting in the early morning, to El Salto before night; as it was, Don Enrique planned a different method. We had good animals, which he had loaned us, or for which he had arranged for us with the muleteers. At two o'clock we reached La Trinidad, where he had promised that we should eat the finest meal in the State of Chiapas. We found a complete surprise. Trinidad is little more than a finca, or rancho, but it has an agente, and quite a population of Chol indians. The agente was a decent-looking fellow, active and ambitious; he talks a little English, and is something of an amateur photographer. His house of poles and mud presented no notable external features, but within, it was supplied with furniture so varied and abundant as is rare in any part of Mexico. Chairs, rockers, tables, cupboards, washstands, all were there; and beds, real beds, which for cleanness were marvels. As soon as we entered the house, fresh water and clean towels were brought. On the tables were vases of fresh-gathered flowers, in quantities, and beautifully arranged. The visible service for all this elegance, and for the meals, were two little indian girls not more than six or eight years old, neatly dressed, and an indian boy of the same size and cleanness. The invisible helpers were buxom indian girls, well-dressed and clean, but who never came into the room where we were, leaving all carrying, setting of tables, and serving, in the hands of these three little servants. There was, indeed, one other person in the household—a beautiful girl, slender and refined, whose relation to the master I do not know, but who was treated by him as if she were a veritable queen, or some lovely flower in the wilderness. Here we rested, ate and slept in comfort, and here, when morning came, we paid a bill which ordinarily would have seemed large; however, if one finds beautiful flowers in the wilderness, he must expect to pay. It was worth while paying to enjoy the best sleep, in the best bed, that one had had for months.

A CHOL FAMILY; LA TRINIDAD

CHOLS; LA TRINIDAD

The agente rode with us in the morning quite a league upon our road, to a place which he was clearing for a milpa. We had heard so much of the horrors of the road to El Salto, that we were prepared for the worst. It was not an abrupt descent, as we had expected, but for the most part level, over black mud. There were a few ups and downs, and there was one limestone hill with tree-ferns and begonias, and all that that implies. Much of the way we had a drizzling rain, and everywhere the air was hot and heavy. After four hours' riding, we stopped at ten to eat a breakfast which we had brought with us, and then rode through to El Salto, where we arrived at 12:30. This is the cabecera of the district, and the jefe could not understand why we should continue on our journey, as the steamer would not leave until the following day. Don Enrique, however, had urged us not to stop at El Salto, where he insisted the risk from yellow fever was great. He advised us to go on to La Cruzada, where he had a house and an agent, and where, he told us, we could arrange for sleeping and eating as comfortably, and far more safely, than in the town. The distance was short, but the place, in truth, was dreary. The landing was at the bottom of a little slope, at the upper edge of which stood Don Enrique's place, the store-house of the steamship company, the house and barnyard of the manager of the mule trains, and one or two unattractive huts. When we arrived, we found that the mayor domo had that day resigned, and left the place, going to El Salto; before he left, he quarreled with the cook, and she had gone off in high dudgeon. Two young employes, left behind, advised us to return to El Salto until the time of embarkation. We, however, had left El Salto behind us, and had our luggage with us, and were little inclined to retrace our steps. After some grumbling, we were supplied with beds, but told that the food problem was impossible. After much wheedling, coaxing, bribing, and threatening, a woman in one of the huts promised to cook something for us, and we had nothing more to do but wait, until the steamer should be ready. The chief excitement of the day was when the mule trains were driven in, towards evening. With them came a swarm of mosquitoes, which absolutely darkened the air. Fortunately they did not stay, but after an hour and a half of troubling, disappeared as suddenly as they arrived. The river had fallen to that degree that it was impossible for our steamer, the Mariscal, to come up to La Cruzada, and we learned that it was anchored about a league down the river. A flatboat, poled by indians, came up to the landing, ready to receive cargo and passengers, and to transfer them to the steamer. In the morning, the loading of the flatboat and the getting ready for departure, took all our thought. At ten o'clock Mr. and Mrs. Ellsworth, with their baby and two servants, appeared in small canoes, which had been poled by indians from the plantation, several hours' journey up the Michol River. At the last moment, Mr. Ellsworth had decided to accompany his party to the city. When everything was loaded, quite promptly, at twelve o'clock, the flatboat pushed out from its moorings. Mr. Ellsworth's little launch was standing at the landing, and he invited me to ride in it, with him and Mrs. Ellsworth and the baby, to the steamer. We started off right proudly in the Miriam, but, alas, pride goes before destruction, and we had hardly left the heavy flatboat a little behind us, when our machinery broke down, and we had to wait until the clumsy scow overtook us, when we became common passengers again, and drifted down the stream to the Mariscal, passing the Lumeha plantation, an American enterprise.

CHOLS RESTING, LA TRINIDAD

The Mariscal itself was a little steamer, too small for the passengers and freight it had to carry. It had no beds nor cabin; it was dirty and crowded; it had not food enough to feed the first-class passengers, who paid twenty-five pesos each for their short journey. There was, indeed, no other class of passengers, only one grade of tickets being sold. When complaints were made of the accommodations, or lack of all accommodations, the agente, who was on the vessel with us, expressed surprise, and seemed profoundly hurt. The stream is full of curves and bends, is broad, and notably uniform in breadth; it has considerable current, and is bordered closely by the tropical forest, except where little clearings have been made for fincas. Formerly, caimans, or alligators, were common, but they have become rare, through the diligent hunting to which they have been subjected for supplying skins. Two days are usually taken in the journey to Frontera, though it is not a fifteen hours' run. Mr. Ellsworth arranged for our going directly through, so that, except one stop at a midway station, we made a continuous journey, and drew up at Frontera at 9:50 in the morning.

It is a mean little town, but far cleaner than Coatzacoalcos. Real grass grows there, and the little plaza is almost a lawn. Last year, when yellow fever was so terrible at Coatzacoalcos, and when, even at El Salto, there were forty cases, there were none here. The town is hot, and during the two days we spent there, our chief effort was to keep cool. The steamer, Mexico, appeared upon the 6th, planning to leave the same day. A norther came, however, and rendered the bar impassable. In the morning, Easter Sunday, the wind had fallen somewhat. We saw the little celebration at the church, and, learning that the boat was likely to leave at noon, went aboard. At one we started. Sailing down the river, we soon found ourselves between the piers, and the moment of test had come. At the first thump of the keel upon the sand, we doubted whether we should pass the bar; still we kept along with steam full on and the bow headed seaward; nine times we struck the sandy bottom, but then found ourselves in deeper water, and were again upon the Gulf. The Mexico was just as dirty, the food was just as bad, and the crew just as unaccommodating, as in 1896, when we had our first experience of her. Rather than lie in the stuffy cabin, I took my blanket out on deck, and rolled up there for the night. Room was plenty, as there were only a score of passengers. When we woke, the boat was standing in the harbor of Coatzacoalcos, and we landed to eat a breakfast at the hotel. Through the day, we wandered about town, but were again upon the vessel at four o'clock. We now numbered about a hundred passengers, and everything was crowded. In the company was a comic theatre troupe. The day before, a number of the passengers had been seasick; on this occasion, three-fourths were suffering, and the decks were a disgusting spectacle. Still, fresh air was there, and again I made my bed on deck. In the middle of the night, having moved slightly, I felt a sharp and sudden pain in my right temple, exactly as if I had rolled upon a sharp, hot tack. I had my jacket for a pillow, and thought at first that there really was a tack in one of the pockets, and sought, but in vain, to find it. Lying down to sleep again, I presently moved my hand over the blanket on the deck, and suddenly, again, I felt the sharp, burning prick, this time in my thumb. Certain that it could not be a tack this time, I brought my hand down forcibly, and, rising, saw by the moonlight that I had killed a large, black scorpion. For two hours the stings felt like fire, but by morning had ceased to pain me; then I found two or three of the other passengers suffering from similar stings, and reached the conclusion that the Mexico was swarming with the creatures. At dawn, we sighted Vera Cruz, and were soon in the harbor, standing at anchor; at eight o'clock, we stood upon the wharf, and our journeys in Indian Mexico were ended.

INDIAN HUT; SANTA ANITA

GUADALUPE; DECEMBER 12

CHAPTER XXVII

CONCLUSION

But it was not necessary to go to distant Oaxaca and Chiapas to find Mexican indians. On the border of the capital city lie Santa Anita, Iztacalco, Mexicalcingo, Ixtapalapa, and a quantity of other villages and towns, where one may still find Aztec indians of pure blood, sometimes speaking the old language, sometimes wearing characteristic dress, and maintaining, to the present, many ancient practices and customs. At Santa Anita, for example, one may eat juiles and tamales, catch a glimpse of indian weddings, and delight his eyes with the fresh beauty of the chinampas,—wonderful spots of verdure and flowers—the floating gardens of the ancient Aztecs. Half an hour, or less, in the tram-car takes the traveller to Guadalupe, which may be called the heart of Indian Mexico. There, on the rock of Tepeyac, the Virgin appeared to Juan Diego; there, in the churches, dedicated in honor of that apparition, thousands of indians, from leagues around, gather yearly. On December 12, in the crowded streets of Guadalupe, groups, fantastically garbed as indians, dance in the Virgin's honor, and in their songs and dances, modern though they be, can be found suggestions of the olden time. Now and then, one may witness, what I saw in December, 1895—a group of indian pilgrims from a distant town, singing and dancing to the Virgin, within the great church itself. And near the high altar, where thick glass plates are set into the floor, letting a dim light into the crypts below, one may see crowds of indians rubbing the smooth surface with their diseased parts to effect a cure. On the streets of the capital city, one daily sees bands of pure Otomis in rags and filth, bringing their loads of charcoal and of corn to market. Their ugly dark faces, their strange native dress, their harsh language, make on the stranger an impression not easily forgotten.

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.

Soon after the publication of my "Indians of Southern Mexico," I had the pleasure of presenting a copy of the book to President Diaz, and of looking through its pictures with him. When we came to the general view of Yodocono, and its little lake, tears stood in the old man's eyes as he said, "Sir, that was my mother's birthplace, and in her honor I have established, at my own expense, two schools, one for boys, and one for girls." Looking at the round huts of Chicahuastla, he shivered, and remarked: "Ah, sir, but it is cold in Chicahuastla." I replied, "Your Excellency, I see that you have been in Chicahuastla." When he saw the Zapotec types, from the District of Tehuantepec, he said: "They are fine large fellows; they make good soldiers; when I was Governor of Oaxaca, I had a body-guard of them." He then told me of the six orphan boys who, in memory of his body-guard, he had adopted and educated; he told me with pride of the success which the five who still live had made, and of the positions they were filling. When he reached the portrait of the little Mixtec, carrying a sack of corn, who, with pride, had told me, in answer to my question, that his name was Porfirio Diaz, the President of the Republic looked long and earnestly at the picture, and I noticed that, when we turned the pages, his finger marked the spot where the likeness of his name-sake was, and, when the book was finished, before closing it, he turned back again, and looked at the little fellow's face. At the first Otomi portrait, he had said: "Ah, sir, but my schools will change the Otomis."

It would be pleasant to have faith in President Diaz' solution of the Otomi problem, but to me it seems doubtful. Of course, I recall with pleasure my visit to the boys' school at San Nicolas Panotla. It was interesting to see those little Tlaxcalan fellows solve problems in alligation and percentage, in bonds and mortgages; but it is doubtful whether any of them, in actual life, will have to deal with blending coffees, or with selling bonds, and cutting coupons. Still, from such indian towns great men have come in the past, and great men will come in the future. Benito Juarez, who laid the foundations on which Diaz has so magnificently built, was a pure-blood Zapotec. From the Aztecs, the Tlaxcalans, Mixtecs, Zapotecs and Mayas, we may hope much in the future. They were races of achievement in the past, and the monuments of their achievement still remain. But that the Otomi, the Triqui, or the Mixe, should be made over by the schools is doubtful. Personally, I feel that the prosperity of Mexico rests more upon the indian blood than on any other element of national power. That schools will do much to train the more gifted tribes perhaps is true. But there are indians, and indians, in Mexico.

GLOSSARY OF SPANISH AND INDIAN WORDS

ITINERARY

The expedition of 1896 was preliminary. We went by rail from the City of Mexico to Oaxaca, capital of the state of the same name. Thence, we journeyed by horse through the states of Oaxaca and Chiapas, to the city of Guatemala, entering the Republic of Guatemala at Nenton. The return journey was made by rail to the Pacific port of San Jose, steamer to Salina Cruz, rail to Coatzacoalcos, steamer to Vera Cruz, and rail to the City of Mexico. Only the portion of this journey between Oaxaca and Nenton is here described, the rest not lying in Indian Mexico. The City of Mexico was headquarters for the work in 1897-98. A trip was made by rail from there to Dos Rios, to measure and photograph the Otomis of Huixquilucan, in the state of Mexico. Thence we went to Patzcuaro by rail, and studied the Tarascans in the villages about Lake Patzcuaro, visiting these by canoe-trips. We then made a trip on horseback to Uruapan (then without rail connection), returning by some important indian towns. After returning to Mexico, we visited the states of Tlaxcala and Puebla. In and around the City of Tlaxcala, we secured our Tlaxcalan subjects. At Cuauhtlantzinco, we worked upon Aztecs. Our experiences at this large town of Puebla are not described, as Bandelier has already rendered the place familiar, and we ourselves have written of it elsewhere. With these two peoples, we made our first essays at bust-making. After returning to Mexico, we went by rail, on the Guadalajara branch of the Mexican Central, to Negrete. From there, by coach (there being then no railroad) to Zamora. Thence, we struck, on horseback, through the Tarascan territory, across to Patzcuaro. On the way, we secured our full series of Tarascan busts, at the Once Pueblos. By rail, we went from Patzcuaro to Dos Rios, to secure our lacking busts of Otomis at Huixquilucan. In the second field expedition, January to March 1899, we worked entirely in the state of Oaxaca. At first a trip was made, by horse, from Oaxaca into the Mixteca Alta, where Mixtecs and Triquis were studied. Again starting from Oaxaca, we traveled over our old trails of 1896, through the mountains to Tehuantepec, returning by the high-road in common use. Zapotecs were studied at Mitla and Tehuantepec, and the Mixes, Juaves, and Chontals in various towns and villages. The season's work closed by our study, at and near Cuicatlan, of the Cuicatecs. At this town, too, we began to work upon Chinantecs. In the third field expedition, during the early months of 1900, we visited seven populations, making our regular study upon six of them. To fill a week that would otherwise have been lost, we made a pedestrian trip through the interesting indian towns on the slopes of Malintzi. Then, from Cuicatlan as a center, we made two journeys—one to San Juan Zautla and San Pedro Soochiapan, to examine Chinantecs; the other to Coixtlahuaca, for seeing Chochos. From Cuicatlan, we struck north by rail to San Antonio, and, by coach to Teotitlan del Camino and by horse beyond, penetrated to the great Mazatec town of Huauhtla. Chinantecs, Chochos, and Mazatecs are tribes of Oaxaca. Leaving that state, we traveled by rail to Tulancingo. From there, by coach and on horseback, we visited Otomi, Aztec, Tepehua and Totonac towns in the states of Puebla and Hidalgo. With the field season of 1901, our work in Indian Mexico ended. It was pursued in three separated areas. From the City of Mexico, we went by rail to Tampico. From that point, a journey by canoe and horse enabled us to see the Huaxtecs of the state of Vera Cruz. Returning to Tampico, a trip by steamer across the gulf brought us to Yucatan. Progreso and Mérida were visited, and our work was done upon the Mayas living near the town of Tekax. A second trip on the gulf brought us to Coatzacoalcos, whence the railroad was used to Tehuantepec and San Geronimo. From the latter point, an ox-cart journey of ten nights, across the states of Oaxaca and Chiapas, brought us to Tuxtla Gutierrez. By horse we continued through Chiapas to El Salto, where we took steamer for Frontera. From there, by steamer to Vera Cruz and then by rail, we traveled to the City of Mexico. Zoques, Tzotzils, Tzendals, and Chols were studied in this portion of the journey.

APPENDIX

STARR IN OLD MEXICO

Oaxaca, Mexico, March 1.—Prof. Frederick Starr, of the University of Chicago, is deep in the midst of his savages. He is manipulating primitive town governments, wielding the authority of federal and state governments, county police, and that of the clergy as well. He is threatening, cajoling, clapping in jail, when necessary, and in general conquering his series of strange nations. I found him doing all this, and more, in a little native village fifty miles from the city of Oaxaca, Feb. 2nd. The fat little man was complete master of the Zapotec town of Mitla, far distant from the end of the last of the railroads, a town famous for its ruins. He bustled about like a captain in a war haste, dressed in a massive Indian sombrero, from which a white string floated picturesquely behind, a necktie of slim, dusty black, which seemed not to have been unknotted for many a day, a shirt less immaculate than the one he may wear at the entertainment shortly to be given him in London, and no coat. The professor's trousers are not Indian. They are farm trousers, of an original type, with double seat for the saddle.

The professor's blood was up. A grand native feast—in which drunken dances, bull-fights, and a state of accumulated irresponsibility are the rule—had delayed him three days. The Indians could no more be measured and "busted"—as the professor calls the making of plaster casts—than could the liquor they had drunk. After three days of pleading, threatening, and berating, in which orders from every government and church official in the country, from lowest to highest, had failed, Prof. Starr seized the black-bearded and wiry president of the town council, the chief potentate of the reeling set, called him a drunken scoundrel, threatened in deep seriousness to imprison every man in the town, and finally won his point—but not until the feast was done. When feasts are over, the people are kindly, suave, gracious.

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.

From every cane-walled, thatched, tropical hut that helps to make the irregular cluster around the central plaza and its adjoining bull ring they came, if not to be measured, to see. They were driven by the highest of the town authorities—for every element of the population waited on the bidding of the little sugar-tongued professor from the north—one by one into the jail, and the rest curiously watched. The measuring was done without undressing, but the "busting" was the point of chief interest. Five representative specimens had been carefully selected for this purpose. They were won slowly, by the glitter of 75 cents of Mexican silver. In some towns, only 50 cents was required, and in others, $1. The smirking Indian, with his wildness hidden away, or only peeping from his eye, entered. He disrobed with no shame. He was put flat on the floor, face down, on a little piece of matting. At this stage some objected. Then the Anglo-Saxon was down on the floor, wheedling, talking such sweetness as can be spoken without silliness only in the Spanish tongue.

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."

Jose did not flee. He was found next morning in the bull ring riding a bull. He was arrested by the Chicagoan's orders, and taken to jail. He was peremptorily ordered by the professor to appear for the measurement. He escaped, and again defied the powers. He was again caught, and it was explained to him by the president that this man of might from the beyond had sworn to drag Jose with him all the way across this wild country slowly to Tehuantepec, thence back to the city of Oaxaca, where the state authorities would deal most painfully with him. And this, indeed, in mighty manner and impressively, had the "man from the beyond" sworn to do. Jose came and was measured, and I afterward saw him calling to the professor to come and take a jolly drink out of the gourd he was shaking at him, in the manner of a comrade.

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.

The procession then moved to the top of an ancient pyramid, in which tombs have been opened, and bones and gold ornaments found. The professor dashed through all the tunnels, with the government after him, before mounting to the top. On top a strange conversation was held between the professor and the president and secretary. They appealed to this northern man, who seemed to have all earthly authority back of him, to grant them one longed-for boon. Would he not please speak, when he returned to the capital, to the minister of encouragement, that he send them a brass band! They wanted to welcome northern visitors to the ruins with modern music.

"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.

Prof. Starr began his ethnological studies to westward of Oaxaca. Mitla is eastward. In the west, he visited two tribes—the Mixtecas and the Triquis. The latter are a branch of the former, but much different, living in round bamboo huts, surprisingly like those of some African tribes. He secured two excellent casts of the Triquis, and three of the Mixtecas. He intended to take five of each tribe he visited, but his plaster failed to arrive. He studies the languages, also, as he goes, and finds many varying dialects, from each of which he secures a test vocabulary of 200 words. He is now approaching the Mixes, the "cannibals." All the City of Mexico papers laugh at the idea of his encountering the slightest danger, and the professor himself scoffs at it. He believes some of the Mixes have, within forty years, eaten human flesh, but he says he is certain they are harmless now.

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

THE PURPLE SPOT ON MAYA BABIES

When I was in Yucatan in 1901 the parish priest of Texax told me that it was said that every pure blood Maya Indian has a violet or purple spot on his back, in the sacral region. He stated that this spot was called by the native name, uits, "bread," and that it was vulgar or insulting to make reference to it. I at once examined three Mayas of pure blood—a boy of ten years and two adult males—but found no trace of such a spot. I concluded that the presence of the spot might be an infantile character, as it is among the Japanese, but at that time I had no opportunity to examine Maya babies.

Dr. Baelz, a German physician, who has spent many years in Japan, long ago called attention to the existence of such spots on Japanese infants. The spots described by him were of a blue or purple color, were located upon the back (especially in the sacral region), and were variable in form and size. They were temporary, disappearing at from two to eight years of age. The occurrence of these infantile color blotches was so common in Japan as to be almost characteristic of the race.

In time, other students reported similar spots on other Asiatic babies, and on non-Asiatic babies of Mongolian or Mongoliod peoples. Chinese, Annamese, Coreans, Greenland Eskimos, and some Malays are now known to have such spots. Sacral spots have also been reported among Samoans and Hawaiians.

Practically, all these people belong to the great yellow race, as defined by De Quatrefages, and are, if not pure representatives of that race, mixed bloods, in part, of it. Baelz and some other writers have, therefore, gone so far as to consider the purple sacral spot a mark peculiar to that race, and to believe its occurrence proof of Mongolian origin. They have asked whether the spot occurs among American Indians, and would consider its occurrence evidence of an Asiatic origin for our native tribes. Satisfactory observations had not been made. Baelz himself found two cases among Vancouver Island Indians.

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.

Every one of the seven pure Maya babies, below ten months old, in the town was purple-spotted. A pair of boy twins, two months old, were marked in precisely the same place with pale blue-purple spots, of the same size and form. In one boy of ten months the spot seemed to be disappearing and was represented by three ill-defined and separated blotches. In the village, there were three babies of suitable age, but of mixed—Spanish-Maya—blood; no one of these showed any trace of the colored spot. We may say, then, that in Palenque every Maya baby below ten months of age was sacral spotted, and that no Mestizo baby was.

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.

INDEX