IN MAYA LAND
(1901)
We had planned to go from Tampico to Chiapas, and from there to Yucatan, where we were to finish our work for the season. We found, however, that there was no certainty in regard to a boat for Coatzacoalcos, while the Benito Juarez was about to sail for Progreso the next day. Not to lose time, we decided to do our Yucatan work first, and to let Chiapas wait until later. We were busy that day making arrangements for departure, and in the afternoon hired a canoe to take our stuff from the wharf to the boat, which was standing out in the river, beyond Doña Cecilia. There was a brisk wind against us, and we almost arrived too late to have our luggage taken aboard. The next morning, we took the first train to Doña Cecilia, and were on board the boat at nine o'clock. We had been told that the sailing would take place at ten, but, on arrival, found that they were waiting for cattle which were being brought across country. One hundred and twenty head were to make our chief cargo, and they were expected at six a.m. Nothing, however, was to be seen of them in any direction. We had taken breakfast, and it was almost twelve o'clock before the first signs of the animals were to be seen. Meantime, at eleven, a norther appeared, and we were informed that it would be impossible to leave short of twenty-four hours. Besides our company, there were three first-class passengers—a sort of German-Austrian baron and his lady, and a contractor, who was taking a force of hands to Yucatan for farm labor. Eighty-three of these hands were our third-class passengers; they had been picked up all along the line of the Tampico Branch of the Central Railway, and few of them realized the hardships and trials which lay before them. We were assured that more than half of them would surely die before the end of their first year in Yucatan. As we could not leave until the norther passed, it was decided not to take the cattle on board until next day. Thus we spent a day as prisoners on the boat, standing in the river. In the morning the water was still rough and the wind heavy, but at 9:30 the loading of the animals began. They were brought out on a barge, about one-half of the whole number to a load; tackle was rigged and the creatures were lifted by ropes looped around their horns. The first few were lifted singly, but after that, two at once. While it sounds brutal, it is really a most convenient method, and the animals, though startled, do not seem to be injured in the least, nor indulge in much kicking. By 11:40 all were loaded and we were ready for our start. We had to wait until the customs-house inspector should come on board to discharge us, and this was not done until half-past one. We sailed out, between the jetties, at two o'clock, and found the Gulf rough, and a high wind, which continued through most of our voyage. The smell from the cattle was disagreeable, and between it and the roughness, all were seasick before the first afternoon was over.
Captain Irvine is the youngest captain of the Ward Line, being but twenty-six years of age. He has followed the sea since he was thirteen years old. A Nova Scotian by birth, he has sailed this coast for some little time, and is a competent official, doing his utmost for the pleasure and convenience of his passengers. The journey was uneventful. There was some excitement among the third-class passengers, many of whom were drunk and quarrelsome. The first evening, two of them were fighting, with the result that the head of one was split open and had to be dressed by the captain. When we had been some forty-eight or fifty hours at sea, we found ourselves off the Campeche banks, in quieter water. Those who had suffered from sickness were again quite themselves. It was 4:30 Sunday morning, February 3, after we had been almost three days and three nights at sea, and four days on the boat, that the Progreso light was sighted, and not long after we came to anchor. We waited from six o'clock until almost ten for lighters and the doctor. After he had made his inspection, we piled off with all our baggage onto a little steamer, which charged three dollars, each passenger, for taking us to the pier, which was close by, and to which our own boat could easily have run. This, however, was but the beginning of Yucatecan troubles. When we found ourselves on the wharf, the customs officials insisted upon our going to the general office for inspection, on account of the character and amount of our luggage. Arrived there, we found that we had no clearing papers for our stuff, and forty dollars duty was required for material which had already paid duty in entering Mexico, and which had only gone from one Mexican port to another, as baggage. In vain we argued and attempted to explain matters. The officials advised us to bring the American consul and have him straighten matters; but his office was shut, as it was Sunday. Meantime, we saw the train, which we had expected to take at 11:30, leave for Mérida, and at twelve o'clock the customs-house offices were closed, and we were forced to leave the business for another day. Fortunately, there are two railroads from Progreso to Mérida, and we were able to take an afternoon train over the narrow-gauge line for the capital city. The station was an enormous, wooden, barn-like structure; the cars were weather-beaten and dilapidated to a degree—except the first-class car, which was in fair condition. Passengers were gathering, but no particular signs of the starting of a train were evident. Boys at the station were selling slabs of pudding, squares of sponge cake soaked with red liquor, pieces of papaya, cups of sweetened boiled rice, and oranges. The oranges were unexpectedly high in price, two selling for a medio; the seller pares off the yellow skins and cuts them squarely in two before selling; the buyer eats merely the pulp, throwing the white skin away. As train-time neared, interesting incidents occurred. The ticket-agent was drunk and picked a quarrel with a decent, harmless-looking indian; the conductor dressed in the waiting-room, putting on a clean shirt and taking off his old one, at the same time talking to us about our baggage-checks. A fine horse, frisky and active, was loaded into the same baggage-freight car with our goods. The bells were rung as signals, and the station locked; the whole management—ticket-agent, conductor and baggagemen—then got upon the train and we were off. At one of the stations the ticket-agent took his horse out from the car, and riding off into the country, we saw no more of him.
LOADING CATTLE; DOÑA CECILIA
MAYAS, RETURNING FROM WORK; SANTA MARIA
The country through which we were running was just as I had imagined it. Though it was supposed to be the cold season, the day was frightfully hot, and everyone was suffering. The country was level and covered with a growth of scrub. There was, however, more color in the gray landscape than I had expected. Besides the grays of many shades—dusty trees, foliage, bark and branches—there were greens and yellows, both of foliage and flowers, and here and there, a little red. But everywhere there was the flat land, the gray limestone, the low scrub, the dust and dryness, and the blazing sun. There were many palm trees—chiefly cocoa-nut—on the country-places, and there were fields of hennequín, though neither so extensive nor well-kept as I had anticipated. It resembles the maguéy, though the leaves are not so broad, nor do they grow from the ground; the hennequín leaves are long, narrow, sharp-pointed, and rather thickly set upon a woody stalk that grows upright to a height of several feet. The leaves are trimmed off, from season to season, leaving the bare stalk, showing the leaf-scar. The upper leaves continue to grow. In places we noticed a curious mode of protecting trees by rings of limestone rock built around them; many of these trees appear to grow from an elevated, circular earth mass. At Conkal, the great stone church magnificently represented the olden time, but it bore two lightning rods and was accompanied by two wind-mills of American manufacture. Everywhere, in fact, the American wind-mill is in evidence. One can but wish that the poor users of the old cenotes might come to life, and, for a little time, enjoy the work of the winds in their behalf. Everywhere we saw plenty of Maya indians and heard something of the old language. All travellers to Yucatan comment on the universal cleanness of the population; notable in the indians, this marks equally well the mestizos, whites and negroes. They are not only clean, but all are well dressed. Men wear low, round-crowned, broad-brimmed palm hats; trousers are rarely of the tight-fitting Mexican kind; indians who work at heavy labor protect their clean white shirts and drawers with a strip of stuff, like ticking, wrapped about them. Women wear two white garments, both ample, hanging from the neck, bordered with black or colored bands. They generally wear long necklaces or rosaries, the beads of which are spaced with gold coins, and a cross of gold or a medal of the same material hangs at the bottom. Women of middle age are usually stout, and march with quite a stately tread.
Mérida itself is much larger and better built than we had expected. Many of the houses, especially on the outskirts, are elliptical in section, and have walls of small stones closely set in mud plaster. In the center of the town the houses are covered with painted plaster and are in the usual Latin-American style. Great numbers of quaint little coaches, with a single horse, were waiting at the station. As we walked up to the center of the town, we found but few places open, practically nothing but barber-shops and drug-stores. Of both of these, however, there were a surprising number.
Having been directed to the Hotel Concordia, we were disappointed when the old lady in charge stated that she had no rooms, and directed us across the way to the Hotel de Mexico. As we had arranged for the delivery of our stuff, we did not care to look elsewhere, and therefore inspected the rooms in this hotel. To reach them, we went through a barber-shop into a narrow patio, and, mounting some rickety stairs, found our quarters, which were filthy, vile-smelling, hot and uncared for. Yet for these choice quarters, with two beds in each of two rooms, leaving no space practically between, we were expected to pay four dollars. Upon remonstrating with the proprietor at the price demanded, he cooly said, "Oh, yes, everything here costs high; but there is money to pay it with." This really stated the fact. Conditions in Mérida are the most abnormal of any place which I have visited. Owing to the war in the Philippines, and interference with the trade in hemp, the fiber of the hennequín is in great demand, and money is plentiful. At good restaurants each plate costs thirty cents, instead of ten or twelve, as in the City of Mexico itself. No coach will cross the street for less than fifty cents; for a cooling drink, such as in the capital city would cost three cents, one here pays twelve. The shortest street-car line charges ten cents; and everything else is in proportion. What the hotel-keeper said, about there being money to pay these frightful prices, was equally true. We paid cargadors four times, draymen three times, more than we have ever done in any other part of Mexico. In the restaurants we saw cargadors calling for plates at thirty cents, boot-blacks eating ices at one real, newsboys riding in coaches, and other astonishing sights. In the plaza, good music is played on Sunday nights, and every one is out in all his finery; fruits, sweetmeats, refreshing drinks, are hawked everywhere, and are much indulged in; under the corridors are little tables, where ices, iced milk and drinks are served. At the hotel we passed a night of horror, suffering from the heat, dust, ill-placed lights, mosquitoes and other insects. Leaving my companions I went the following morning to Progreso to attend to the unlucky baggage. For variety, I took the broad-gauge road, but found little difference in the country through which we passed. The number of wind-mills was astonishing, and most of them were Chicago aeromotors. At one station a great crowd of pure indians got off and on the train. The American consul at Progreso is too much interested in archaeology to be found at his office, but his Mexican vice-consul was present. To him our difficulty was explained, and on his advice we deposited the forty dollars demanded for duty, and signed various documents of remonstrance, upon which we paid almost four dollars more for stamps. We were then permitted to take out enough plates for immediate use, leaving the balance in Progreso until we should be ready for our return journey.
Acting on the advice of the vice-consul, we changed quarters in Mérida from the Hotel de Mexico, to the Moromuzo, kept by an American who had been many years in the country, and where, though we paid even more for rooms, we had some comfort. By industrious search, we found a Chinese restaurant, where prices were not high and service quite as good as in the aristocratic place where we had dined before. The day before we called at the palace, hoping to see the governor, though it was Sunday. He was out of town, and we were asked to call the following day. Accordingly, in the afternoon, after returning from Progreso, I repeated my call but was told that the governor had gone out of town again and that I should come the following day. The third day, again presenting myself at the office, I learned that it was a holiday and that the governor would not be at the palace; the secretary recommended that I try to see him at his house. To his house I went, and sending in my card and my letters from the Federal authorities was surprised, after having been kept waiting in the corridor, to be informed that the governor would not see me, and that I should call at the palace, the next day, in the afternoon, at two o'clock. Sending back a polite message that we had waited three whole days to see his excellency, and that our time was limited, my surprise was still greater at receiving the tart reply that he had stated when he would see me. We spent the balance of day and all the morning of the next, looking about the town.
Having failed in my visit to Governor Canton, I took a street-car to Itzimna to see the bishop, to ask him for a letter to his clergy. The well-known Bishop Ancona had lately died, and the new incumbent was a young man from the interior of Mexico, who had been here but a few months. He had been ill through the whole period of his residence, and seemed frail and weak. He received me in the kindest way, and after reading the letters I presented, asked whether I had not been in Puebla at a certain time two years before; on my replying in the affirmative, he remarked that he had met me at the palace of the bishop of Puebla and had then learned of my work and studies. He gave me an excellent letter to his clergy, and as I left, with much feeling, he urged me to be careful of my health and that of my companions while we were in the country. When he came from Puebla, only a few months before, he brought three companions with him, all of whom had died of yellow fever. He told me that, though this was not the season for that dread disease, cases of it had already broken out in the city; at the same time he stated that more than eight hundred cases of small-pox were reported in Mérida, and that many of them were of the most virulent. Sunday we had walked through dust ankle-deep upon the roads; Tuesday and Wednesday it was with difficulty that we could cross the streets, which were filled with mud, and, part of the time, with muddy water a foot and more in depth. This is a frequent occurrence, and foot-passengers who desire to cross the street are often forced to hire a coach for that purpose. As one walks the street, he runs constant risk of being splashed with mud and water from passing vehicles and street-cars. During the four days we spent in Mérida we met several persons interested in literary lines, and visited a number of institutions, among which the most interesting was the Museo Yucateco, of which Señor Gamboa Guzman is in charge. It is by no means what it should be, or what, with but small outlay, it might be. But it contains interesting things in archaeology, in local history, and in zoology. It is of special interest to Americans because Le Plongeon was interested in its foundation and early development.
An old gentleman, clerk in the diocesan offices, advised us to visit Tekax and Peto for our study. The governor had set the hour of two for our reception. Merely to see when he would come, we seated ourselves in the garden of the plaza, so that we could watch the entrance to the palace. Two came, but no governor. At 2:30 several gentlemen were waiting near the office door. At three no governor had arrived. At five minutes past three, we noticed that hum of excitement and expectation which usually heralds some great event, and looking down the street, saw the governor pompously approaching. As he passed, hats were removed and profound salutations given. Waiting until he had entered the office, we walked up to the reception room, where we found ten or twelve gentlemen waiting audience. The great man himself had disappeared into an office which opened onto this reception-room, but the door of which was not closed. All waited patiently; from time to time the usher-secretary crept noiselessly to the office door and peeked through the key-hole to see whether the executive was ready. Finally, at 3:35 the word was given, and the privilege of the first audience was granted to myself. During these days of waiting—something which has never occurred with any of the many governors of states in Mexico upon whom I have called—I had expressed my surprise to a gentleman of wealth and prominence in the city, at the governor's compelling me to wait for audience. With some feeling, this gentleman replied, "But, sir, you are fortunate; you are a stranger, and bring letters from cabinet officials; many of the best gentlemen in this city have been kept waiting months in order to see Governor Canton in regard to business of the highest consequence to themselves and to the public." I will do the governor justice by saying that he listened with apparent interest to my statement, and that he gave orders that the letters which I wished, to local authorities, should be prepared without delay. Thanking him, I withdrew, and by five o'clock the secretary handed me the desired documents; we had lost four days. Early the following morning, as no cargadors were at hand, our little company resolved itself into a band of carriers and we took our baggage and equipment to the Peto station. The securing of tickets and the checking of baggage was quite an undertaking, and if the train had started at the time announced, we should have missed it; however, we were in good season, and left something less than an hour late. The country through which we passed was an improvement upon what we had seen before. The trees were greener, and many flowers were in bloom. From the train, we saw a group of pyramids at one point, and an isolated pyramid at another. Some of the indian towns through which we passed, with curious Maya names, were interesting. So, too, were the vendors at the station. Hot tamales, "pura masa" (pure dough), as Manuel said, slippery and soapy in feeling and consistency, done up in banana leaves and carefully tied, seemed to be the favorite goods; far better were split tortillas with beans inside and cheese outside; beautiful red bananas and plump smooth yellow ones were offered in quantity. We lost an hour at the station where trains met, reaching Tekax at eleven. We walked up to the hot plaza, where we found the town offices closed, and had difficulty in even leaving our stuff with the police. At a restaurant we had a fair breakfast, for which we paid a peso each person. As there were no signs of the town officials, we dropped into the curato to see the priest, to whom we presented the bishop's letter. He was a Spaniard, who had been in this country only a few months, and despises it heartily. He was sitting at table with two young men, who had accompanied him from Spain, and who love Yucatan no better than he. He greeted us most heartily, and was interested in our plan of work. He sent at once for the judge of the registro civil, who could tell us many curious things about the indians, and, as soon as the old man came, the good priest ordered chocolate to be served. We chatted for some time, when, seeing that the jefe's office was open, I suggested that I had better go to present my letters. The cura and the judge at once began to abuse that official roundly for his sins of commission, and particularly for those of omission, and told me that I should have him summoned; that it was much better than to trouble myself by going to his office, where I had already been twice in vain; it was but right that he should attend to business; he ought to be in his office when visitors came to see him. Accordingly a messenger was sent and the jefe summoned.
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.
It was useless to urge effort, and we spent the time talking with the old judge in regard to the habits and superstitions of the indians and in walking with the judge of primera instancia up to the ridge which overlooked the town, and which was crowned by a little hermita. The population of Yucatan is still, for the most part, pure indian of Maya blood and speech. The former importance of this people is well known; they had made the greatest progress of any North American population, and the ruins of their old towns have often been described. They built temples and public buildings of stone and with elaborate carved decorations; they ornamented walls with stucco, often worked into remarkable figures; they cast copper and gold; they hived bees, and used both wax and honey in religious ceremonial. They spun and wove cotton, which they dyed with brilliant colors; they had a system of writing which, while largely pictorial, contained some phonetic elements. They are still a vital people, more than holding their own in the present population, and forcing their native language upon the white invaders. Nominally good Catholics, a great deal of old superstition still survives, and they have many interesting practices and beliefs. The cura presented me a ke'esh of gold, which he took from the church, where it had been left by a worshipper. It is a little votive figure crudely made, commonly of silver; the word means "exchange," and such figures are given by the indians to their saint or to the Virgin in exchange for themselves, after some sickness or danger.
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.
The school-teacher of the town is a man of varied attainments, being also a photographer, watch-maker, medical-adviser, chemist, and so forth. His house is full of scientific instruments—a really good camera, a fine aneroid barometer, several thermometers, including self-registering maximum and minimum, etc., etc. All seem excellent in quality, but I could not learn that he makes any use of them, except the camera. The cura, and the judge deride his possession of the instruments, doubting whether he knows how to use them. They assert that he has an apparatus for projection, for which he paid 1,000 pesos, which has never yet been unpacked. When we called on him he showed us, by his hygrometer, that the air was very humid, though the temperature was at 86° Fahr., and told us, what probably is true, that in this heavy, hot weather, every wound and bruise, however trifling, is likely to become serious. In illustration of this fact, the cura mentioned that his Spanish carpenter, who merely bruised his leg against the table, has suffered frightfully for three months, having now an ugly sore several inches across, that makes walking difficult. Great care is necessary with any injury that breaks or bruises the skin. We ourselves had already experienced the fact that insect-bites became ugly open sores that showed no signs of healing; as a fact, none of us succeeded in curing such for several weeks after leaving Yucatan. In the afternoon, the priest, the judge of primera instancia and myself took a coach to ride out to a neighboring hacienda, where there was a great sugar-mill, Louis accompanying us on horseback. Our road ran alongside the ridge and consisted of red limestone-clay. It was fairly good, though dry and dusty, and closely bordered with the usual Yucatecan scrub. The ridge, along which we were coursing, is the single elevation in the peninsula; beginning in northeastern Yucatan, it runs diagonally toward the southwest, ending near Campeche. It is generally covered with a dense growth of forest, unless artificial clearings have been made. Covies of birds, like quail, were seen here and there, along the road, and at one point a handsome green snake, a yard or more in length, glided across the way. Snakes are said to be common, and among them several are venomous—the rattlesnake, the coral-snake, and most dreaded of all, a little dark serpent a foot or so in length, with an enormous head, whose bite is said to be immediately fatal. There are also many tree-snakes, as thick as a man's arm. In the forest, mountain-lions are rare, but "tigers" are common. We found Santa Maria to be an extensive hacienda, and the sugar-mill was a large structure, well supplied with modern machinery, and turning out a large amount of product. We saw a few of the indian hands, went through the factory, and were shown through the owner's house, which has beautiful running water and baths, though there is little furniture, and nothing of what we would consider decoration. It was after dark before we started to town, and when we got there we found two wedding parties waiting for the padre's services.
The promised crowd filled the market Sunday, and our work went finely. Between the town officials and the priest, subjects were constantly supplied. Among the indians who presented themselves for measurement was old Manuel, sacristan from Xaya; he is a h'men, and we had hoped that he would show us the method of using the sastun, or divining crystal. He is a full-blood, and neither in face nor manner shows the least emotion. Automatic in movement, he is quiet and phlegmatic in manner; having assumed the usual indian pose for rest, a squat position in which no part of the body except the feet rests upon the ground, or any support, he sat quietly, with the movement of scarcely a muscle, for hours at a time. He sang for us the invocation to the winds of the four quarters, which they use in the ceremony of planting time. Though he is frequently employed to say the "milpa mass" and to conjure, he claims that he never learned how to use the sastun, but told us that another h'men in his village knew it well.
One of the padre's companions has been ill ever since he came to Yucatan; Sunday he suffered so greatly that a doctor was sent for in haste. Nothing was told us as to what his trouble might be, but personally I suspected that he had the small-pox. In connection with his illness, we learned for the first time that another companion of the priest, brought from Spain, died in the room I was occupying, less than two weeks before, from yellow fever. We had known that one of his companions had died of yellow fever, but supposed it was some months earlier. Toward evening the priest was sent for by a neighbor, who needed the last service. On the padre's return, we learned that this person was believed to be dying from vomito. For a moment we were in doubt what was best to do, especially as the police had told us that the padre had permitted no fumigation of his premises after his comrade's death, simply sprinkling holy water about the place. That night the young man in the next room suffered greatly, and I could not help but wonder what ailed him. However, I decided that what danger there might be from the disease we had already risked, and as we expected to remain but one or two more days, it seemed hardly worth while to make a change. Monday we planned a visit to San Juan and Xaya. The horses had been ordered for five o'clock, but mass had been said, chocolate taken, and all was ready, long before they appeared. Six, seven, eight all passed, and at last, at nine, only three animals appeared. This decided us to leave Ramon behind to pack the busts which we had made, while the others of the party, with the padre, mounted on his own horse, should make the journey. A foot mozo carried the camera. The road was of the usual kind, and was marked at every quarter league with a little cross of wood set into a pile of stones and bearing the words, De Tekax—— L. As we passed La Trinidad we noticed great tanks of water for irrigation before the house, and tall trees with their bare, gray roots running over and enveloping the piles of stones on which they had been planted. There were no other plantations or villages until just before the ninth cross—two and a quarter leagues—we came to the hennequín plantation of San Juan. The mayor domo was delighted to see the padre and greeted us warmly, taking us at once to the great house. We rode between long lines of orange trees, loaded with sweet and juicy fruits, and were soon sitting in the cool and delightful hallway. It is impossible to say how many dozens of those oranges four of us ate, but we were urged to make away with all we could, as the daily gathering is something more than five thousand. Soon an elaborate breakfast was ready for us, but before we ate we took a drink of fresh milk from cocoanuts cut expressly for us. We had salmon, eggs, meat-stew, beans, tortillas, and wine. But the mayor domo expressed his regret that he did not know we were coming, as he would gladly have killed a little pig for us. As dessert a great dish of fresh papaya cut up into squares and soaking in its own juice, was served. Sitting in the cool corridor, after a good breakfast, and looking out over a beautiful country, with promises that all the subjects necessary for measurement should be supplied, the idea of riding on to Xaya lost attractiveness, and we sent a foot-messenger with an order to the town authorities to send the h'men with his sastuns without delay to see us.
MAYA DANCE; SAN JUAN
THE H'MEN WITH HIS SASTUN; SAN JUAN
This was our first opportunity to see the industry of hennequín, which is the chief product of this hacienda. The leaves, after cutting, are brought from the field tied up in bundles. These are opened, and the leaves are fed into a revolving, endless double chain, which carries them on iron arms upward and dumps them onto a table, where three men receive them and feed them into the stripper. This consists of a round table, into the inner, excavated, circular face of which a round knife with dull edge fits closely, though at only one place at once; the leaves, fed between the table and knife, are held firmly by them at about one-third their length. The projecting two-thirds of the leaves hang downward; as the table revolves the leaves thus held are carried to a vertical revolving rasp which strips out the flesh, leaving the fibre masses hanging. These taken out from between the table and the knife are fed again to a second revolving table which holds the masses of fibre, leaving the unstripped portion of the leaves exposed to a second rasp, which strips it. The hanks of fibre are dropped from the second table onto a horizontal wooden bar, where they are rapidly sorted over by a man who throws inferior and spotted bunches to one side. The whole operation is rapid and beautiful. The fresh fibre is then hung over bars, in the southern wind, to dry, after which it is baled in presses for shipment.
MAYA HOUSE; SAN JUAN
We had no trouble in completing the measurement of subjects from the indian hands on the place, and made portraits and photographs of native dancers. In the afternoon the h'men appeared. He was an extremely clean and neat indian of forty-five, and carried at his side a little sack, within which, carefully wrapped up in a handkerchief, were his sastuns. There were five in all; three were small round balls of glass, broken from the stoppers of perfume bottles; one was somewhat barrel-shaped and of bluish color, while the other, the largest of all, was rather long, fancifully formed, and with facets ground out upon it; it was yellowish in tint. The two latter were apparently from toilet bottles. Telling him that I was anxious to learn about something which had been stolen from me, I asked what was necessary in the way of preparation. He demanded a candle and aguardiente. A great taper of yellow wax and a bottle of spirits were supplied. Taking these in his hand, he entered the little chapel of the hacienda, considering it a good place for conjuring. He piously kissed the altar tables and the bases of the crucifixes and saints; then picking out a dark corner he opened his cloth, took out his glasses, lighted the candle and squatted for his operation. Taking one of the crystal balls between his fingers, he held it between the flame and his eye and looked intently into it, as if seeking something. One after another, the five crystals were carefully examined. Finally, laying the last aside, he shook his head. He could see nothing, nothing whatever, that interested the gentleman, unless indeed sickness; this he pointed out in one of the little balls; redness, fever. Being urged to try again, after an interval he got down to real business; he took the aguardiente, dipped the crystals into the liquor, repeating formulas as he did so, and again made the test, but with no better result. He could see nothing, absolutely nothing, of stolen property; there was nothing in the crystal of interest to the gentleman, except fever; that there was, he was certain. This practice of divining by means of crystals is a survival from the old pagan days. It is probable that there is no indian town of any size in Yucatan where some h'men does not make use of it.
We had now finished our work with Maya Indians, except the measurement of a few women and the making of a single bust. Upon rather strong representation to the jefe, a desperate effort was made by the policemen and the women were secured. Among the village police-force, one man had attracted our particular attention, as representing a type of face, quite common among the Mayas, which we have called the serpent-face. It is round and broad, with retreating chin and receding forehead, and with curious, widely-separated, expressionless eyes. We had already measured and photographed the subject, but, because he was a policeman and had been useful, we thought we would not subject him to the operation of bust-making. Seeing, however, that no other equally good subject had presented itself, we decided to make his bust, and told him so. To our surprise he refused. The jefe, for once, acted promptly and without hesitation issued an absolute order that the man's bust should be made. The order had no effect. The officials scolded, threatened, but Modesto Kan was immovable. The jefe ordered that he should be thrown into jail, which order was promptly obeyed, but all to no purpose. Our subject said we might whip him, fine him, keep him in jail, or kill him, but he would not have his bust made. Hours passed, and neither remonstrance nor threats on the part of the jefe or ourselves were of the least avail. On my last interview with him, I found him lying on a mat with so high a fever that I dared not urge the matter further, and we desisted from our efforts to secure him. It was the only subject among 3,000 Indians, with whom we failed to carry out our work.
A story which the old judge had told us had its influence in my permitting this subject to escape. These Mayas often die for spite, or because they have made up their mind to do so. Don Manuel at one time was summoned by a rich indian with whom he was well acquainted. The man was not old, and had land, good houses, many head of cattle, much maize, and many fowls. He had three children, and owned the houses near his own in which they lived. Everything was prospering with him. Yet the message to the judge was that he should come at once to hear this indian's last words. With a companion he hastened to the house, and found the man in his hammock, dressed in his best clothes, waiting for them. He seemed in perfect health. When they accosted him, he told them he was about to make his will, and say his last words. They told him that a man in health had a perfect right to make his will, but remonstrated with him for saying that he was about to speak his last words. He insisted, however, that he was about to die. In vain they argued with him; he had had his dream. He gave to one child, house, animals, corn, poultry; to the second, similar gifts; to the third, the same. Then, having bidden them all farewell, he lay down in his hammock, took no food or drink, spoke to no one, and in six days was dead. Such cases are not uncommon among Maya indians of pure blood.
When we reached home that night we found Ramon unwell. Next day, the last of our stay at Tekax he was suffering with fever. He had done no work while we were absent the day before, and all the packing and doing-up of plaster fell upon the others of the party. As for him, he collapsed so completely that it scared me. The ordinary mestizo has no power of resistance; no matter how trifling the disease, he suffers frightfully and looks for momentary dissolution. It was plain from the first moment that Ramon believed that he had the yellow fever; instead of trying to keep at work or occupying himself with something which would distract his attention, he withdrew into the least-aired corner of a hot room and threw himself onto heap of rugs and blankets, in which he almost smothered himself, cut off from every breath of fresh air. In vain we urged him to exert himself; in the middle of the afternoon we took him to the doctor, who assured us that the case was in no way serious—at the worst nothing more than a light attack of malaria. In the afternoon the jefe, neglecting the padre, invited the judge of primera instancia and myself to accompany him upon a little expedition to the neighboring Cave of the Fifth of May. We went in a coach, taking Louis, who sat with the driver, as photographer; on the way, we visited the town cemetery, which we found a dreary place, with no effort at adornment and with an air of general neglect. We passed a number of places where they were boiling sugar, and at one we stopped to see the mode of dipping calabashes for dulces; the fruits are gourd-like, but have considerable soft pulp within the thin, hard crust; several holes are bored through the external shell and the calabashes, slung by strings into groups at the end of a pole, are dipped into the boiling sap or syrup; the dipping is done two or even three times, and the clusters are removed and allowed to drip and dry between dips. The loose flesh is soaked through with the syrup, making a rich, sweet mass, much used for desserts. Finally, we turned into another place where sugar was being made, and found it the cleanest and neatest of its kind. Here we sampled little cakes of clean brown sugar, and were treated with similar cakes in which peanuts and squash-pips were embedded, making a delicious confection. We were here supplied with a clean, fresh jícara cup, and, walking along the path a few rods, ascended slightly to the mouth of the cave, which was far handsomer than we had expected. The limestone of Yucatan abounds in caves and subterranean water-courses, especially near the base of the ridge already mentioned. The mouth of the cavern was fringed with ferns and other vegetation. A flight of rustic steps led down to the nearly level floor of red cave-earth. The light from outside entered sufficiently to show the greater portion of the cave. The rock walls, opposite the opening, were brilliantly green with some minute growth; from the floor rose a heap of stone upon the top of which was set an olla of large size to catch the water dripping from the roof; it was full of most beautifully clear, cool water, which we dipped out with our jícara and drank. At two or three other places on the floor, and on projections from the side walls of the cave, were other ollas, or broken water-troughs of stone, for catching water. Lighting our candles we went behind a pendant veil of thick stalagmite. At some spots hummocks of snow-white crystalline matter, with a reticulated surface, had been deposited by dripping water. A few great masses of stalagmite rose from the floor, and there were some columns of the same material. On returning from the cavern, nothing would do but we must breakfast with the jefe, which we did, in state, though at our usual boarding-house.
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.
Padre Juan insisted on supplying a coach for our leaving, in the morning. This coach, like those at Mérida, was an extremely small affair, for a single horse. Under any circumstances it would scarcely carry three persons, without luggage, besides the driver. When it is remembered that our party, (consisting of four), the stout padre, four satchels, measuring-rod, tin pan and blankets, made up the load, it can be easily appreciated that the little coach was full. We rode slowly, and the poor, creaking vehicle threatened to fall to pieces every moment, but we reached the station safely. It was scarcely ten when we arrived at Mérida and took our old quarters at the Moromuzo. Our invalid at once lay down, and neither threats nor bribes would move him; he looked as if he suffered, but he insisted on doing so; going to the nearest drug store we described his symptoms to the apothecary, who assured us that the case could not be serious, and supplied a remedy which was rapid and energetic in its action, though our sick man insisted that he was not improved.
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.
One day we went to a cenote for a bath. Passing through a house into a rather pretty garden, we came to a stairway, partly natural and partly cut in the solid rock, which we descended; we found ourselves in a natural cave, with a pool of blue, transparent water. A paved platform surrounded one side of the cave, and near its rear edge was a bench of masonry, which was continued along the side of the pool by a similar bench, cut partly from the living rock. The water was so clear that we could see, by the light coming from above, to its very bottom, and could detect little black fishes, like bull-heads, against the sand and pebbles. The pool was irregular in shape, so that a portion of it was out of sight behind the rock-wall, beyond which we found that there was a paved floor and benching similar to that in the portion which we had entered. We had a delightful and refreshing swim in this underground pool, but it was noticeable that, after we came out into the air, there was no evaporation of water from the body, and towels were absolutely necessary for drying. Such cenotes are found in many parts of Yucatan, and form the regular bathing-places, and are often the only natural supplies of drinking-water. Of streams above ground there are practically none in the whole peninsula.
The last day of our stay in Mérida we saw the xtoles. These are bands of indian dancers who go from house to house during the carnival season; they are dressed in costumes which reproduce some features of the ancient indian dress. In the little company which we saw were fifteen dancers, including the standard-bearer; all were males, but half of them were dressed like females and took the part of such. The male dancers wore the usual white camisa and drawers, but these had a red stripe down the side of the leg; jingling hawk-bells of tin or brass were attached to various parts of their dress; a red belt encircled the waist; all wore sandals. The "female" dancers wore white dresses of the usual sort, with decorated borders at the arm and neck; also necklaces of gold beads and gold chains with pendants. Two of the dancers were little children, but the rest appeared to be young men up to about thirty-five years of age. All wore crowns upon the head; these consisted of a circlet of tin, from which rose two curved strips, which intersected over the middle of the head; from the circlet rose four feathers—either natural or made of tin. Two of the crowns of special size, with real feathers, marked the king and queen. Under the crowns, covering the top of the head and hanging down from the shoulders, were gay handkerchiefs of red or blue. All the dancers were masked. The men wore bandoliers of cotton, worked with bright designs representing animals, birds and geometrical forms; the square ends of these were hung with marine shells. In their hands, the dancers carried curious rattles and fans, which they used in making graceful movements as they danced. The handle of the fan consisted of the leg and foot of a turkey, while the body was composed of the brilliant and beautifully spotted feathers of the ocellated turkey, a bird peculiar to Yucatan and the adjacent country. There were two musicians, one with a long pito, or fife, and the other with a huehuetl or drum, which he struck with his hand. Hanging to the side of the drum near the top was a turtle-shell, upon which the drummer beat, from time to time, with a deer's horn. A standard was carried by the company, which bore a representation of the sun, with dancers and a serpent; the pole by which it was carried was surmounted with a tin disk representing the sun's face. The music was apparently of indian origin and the words of the song were Maya. The dancing itself was graceful and accompanied by many curious movements. Mr. Thompson, our American consul to Yucatan, believes this dance is ancient, and thinks he has found representations of it painted on the walls of ancient ruins at Chichen Itza.
THE XTOLES; Mérida
THE XTOLES; Mérida
Mérida prides itself upon its carnival, which, it claims, ranks third,—Venice and New Orleans alone surpassing it. It was admitted that the celebration of this year was far below that of others. The cause of this dullness was generally stated to be the great amount of sickness prevalent in the city. However that may be, it certainly was a tame affair. On the 15th two processions took place, one in the morning, the other in the afternoon; these were arranged by two clubs of young people, and each desired to surpass the other. We saw that of the afternoon, and found it not particularly interesting. A number of private carriages, drawn up in line, passed through the streets; within were gentlemen, ladies and children, but few of them wore masks, or were otherwise notable; besides these, in the procession, were five allegorical cars. One represented a gilded boat containing pretty girls; it was arranged to seem to rise and fall upon a billowy sea. A second float represented the well-known ancient statue, the Chacmool; an indian, in the attitude of the figure mentioned, held an olla upon his breast, while one or two others stood near him as guards or companions. The most attractive float was loaded with the products of Yucatan, and a group of figures symbolizing its industries and interests. Upon the fourth, a female figure stood erect in a chariot drawn by lions. The fifth was comic, and represented marriage in public and private—a vulgar couple indulging in affectionate display before a partition, and in a conjugal quarrel behind it. These floats were scattered at intervals through the procession, which was of no great length.
By this time Ramon had suffered violent agonies, and had become so weak that assistance was needed when he walked. The second day in Mérida we had sent for a competent physician, who assured us that nothing was the matter excepting an unimportant attack of bilious fever, and that with a day or two of treatment he should be entirely recovered. On his second visit he was much irritated, as the young man had not made the promised improvement, and assured us that there was no cause for his collapse. During our first visit to Mérida, in hunting through the city for Protestants—a practice in which he invariably indulged whenever we reached a town of consequence—Ramon had happened on an interesting little man who represents the American Bible Society in this district. By name Fernandez, this gentleman was born in Argentina, educated in Spain, and has served as colporteur in the states of Chiapas, Tabasco and Yucatan for upwards of a dozen years. He was stout, active, and vivacious; he claimed to have been in every town in Chiapas, and gave us much advice regarding our journey to that state; he called upon us several times during our stay, and shared the general disgust over our sick man, who, he assured us, had nothing serious the matter, and only needed to arouse himself to throw off the bilious attack from which he suffered. On the streets we met the baron who had been with us on our voyage from Tampico. He told us that after one day in Mérida, he and his lady decided that they preferred Progreso, and were stopping there, going down upon the day-train when they wished to visit Mérida. He also warned us that we need never expect to see the forty dollars which we had advanced through the vice-consul, as whatever disposition should be made of our complaint regarding customs charges by the government, no such money was ever known to leave his hands. Following events entirely confirmed this gentleman's dire prophecy; neither Mr. Thompson nor Señor Solis have paid the least attention to communications regarding the matter sent after our return to our own country. It is little likely that the Mexican government refused to refund the payment; but we shall probably never know.
The remarks of the baron suggested a new line of action. Why longer wait in Mérida for our boat? Progreso is cleaner, cooler, enjoys a sea breeze, and gives as good living for less than half the price we were paying. For comfort, for the benefit of our sick man, for the advantage of our pocket, we would be better off at Progreso than in Mérida. While there were cases of small-pox in the little seaport, there were none of yellow fever. In every way it looked attractive, and on Monday morning we left, and found ourselves, before noon, comfortably located in the curious little hotel, La Estrella de Oro, in Progreso. To be sure, our rooms were mere stalls, being separated from each other by board partitions scarcely eight feet in height, and without ceiling, so that it was impossible to escape the conversation in neighboring rooms at night. The table, however, was excellent, and the price, compared with what we had been paying, economy itself. Having seen my companions comfortably located, I returned to Mérida, where there was still some business demanding attention. This time I found a room in the Hotel Concordia, which was the most comfortable I enjoyed in Mérida, although the price of $4 for the mere room was high. The day before, we had seen the Battle of Flowers of the carnival. No flowers figured in it; it consisted of a long procession of carriages, mostly private and mostly good; they were filled with well-dressed young people, of whom few were masked; all were supplied with confetti, which was thrown in handfuls by those in the carriages upon those in carriages going in the other direction, for the procession was double. Usually, girls and ladies threw at men and boys, who reciprocated the compliment; the ladies had their hair loose and flowing, and wore no hats; so that in a little time it was filled with the brilliant bits of paper. Everyone, also, had long strips of colored paper, rolled up like ribbons, which were now and then launched, either with no direct aim or at some person; as these strips unrolled they trailed prettily in the air, and everyone caught at the trailing streamers. Crowds of poor children chased along, beside and behind the carriages, catching at the showers of bits of paper, and at the long streamers, which they kept, or, in turn, hurled at passers. The balconies of all the better houses were filled with people, as were the seats and raised platform fronting the town-house, and those in the balconies and on the seats rained down paper upon those in the carriages. Many children in the balconies were masked, and wore grotesque costumes, but few grown persons were so decked out. While pretty and characteristic, the Battle of Flowers disappointed us, lacking the life and "abandon" which one usually associates with the idea of carnival. It was all reserved, and respectable, and unenthusiastic. The only persons who really seemed to enjoy it were the poor children, with their loads of bright paper and long streamers. Monday afternoon, the most striking function of the carnival, so far seen, took place. This was an enormous procession of vehicles; private carriages, with elaborate equipment, were filled with finely-dressed gentlemen and ladies; common rented coaches were in line, and some of them were loaded to their full capacity with common people—four, five, or even six, in one; in one were four brawny, young cargadors; in another an old grandmother, her two daughters, and some grandchildren, pure indians, rode complacently, enjoying the admiration which they knew their best clothes must attract; in some of the fine private coaches, no one but indian nurses or favored servants rode. Even here, few of the parties were really dashing, lively or beautiful. The whole thing was constrained, artificial and sedate. An occasional group seemed to really enjoy the occasion. One bony horse dragged an ancient buggy or cart, which might well be that of some country doctor, and in it was the gentleman himself, commonly dressed, but with a whole family of little people, who were bubbling over with enjoyment. Another happy party was that of a common carter, who had his own dray in the line, with his children, neatly but commonly dressed, as its only occupants; in two or three carriages were maskers, though none of them appeared funny; one drayman's cart had been hired by a crowd of loud and boisterous youngsters, who performed all kinds of pranks and bawled nonsensical remarks to the crowd.
CARNIVAL AT PROGRESO
CARNIVAL AT PROGRESO
My chief errand was to see the leader of the xtoles, to purchase from him some of the objects which they had used in their dance. Just as I was starting, at evening, for the address he had given me, I met Señor Fernandez in the plaza, and he agreed to accompany me to the place. We went some little distance on the street-car, and, dismounting at the corner of a narrow lane, were about to start through it, when someone touched my companion on the arm, and greeted him. He recognized the owner of the little shop before which we stood. Heartily invited to enter the tienda, we did so and stated the object of our quest. The shopkeeper at once said that we must have a lantern, as the road was dark, and ordered his clerk to accompany us with one, for which we were truly thankful. We came, finally, to the house where Don Gregorio, the leader of the dancers, lived. Fernandez was friendly and voluble, greeting every company of girls and women that we met, or who were at the house, as "lindas," and passing compliments. He was, however, uneasy, continually glancing around and asking repeatedly when Don Gregorio would appear. The dancers were still absent, but expected every moment; in fact, we could hear their music in the distance. When, finally, they did appear, their leader, who was very drunk, insisted that he could not treat in the matter until after the next day, which would be the culmination of the carnival, and their chief day for dancing. The instant that we received this answer, Fernandez seized the lantern, which the clerk had left, and, grasping me by the arm, we started off at breakneck pace. As we almost rushed down the stony road, he looked furtively to right and left, and told me that there were, no doubt, persons in the neighborhood who had recognized him, and said that, more than once, in this very neighborhood, he had been stoned when selling bibles, and that any moment we ran our chances of a night attack. Apparently, however, people were too much excited over carnival to waste their time in baiting Protestants, and we heard no whizzing missiles, and soon, reaching the corner shop, left the lantern, and went home. There had been doubt as to whether trains would run the following day, Tuesday, on account of carnival. I found, however, that the train on which I had counted, leaving at seven in the morning, went as usual, though it was the only train of the day for Progreso. My companions were delighted to see me, and I found our sick man sure that death was imminent; to tell the truth, he was constantly spitting black blood, which oozed from his gums, and which gave me more concern than any of his previous symptoms. We found the carnival at Progreso more natural and unpretentious, but also far more lively and amusing, than anything in Mérida. To be sure, some of the performances bordered on the indecent, but on the whole, it was jolly, and scarcely gave cause for Manuel's pious ejaculation that there were many abusos. Groups of men and boys went through the streets decked with ribbons and flowers, and with their faces painted or daubed; many carried handfuls of flour, or of blue paint, which they dashed into the faces or over the clean clothes of those they met; bands of maskers danced through the streets; companies of almost naked boys, daubed with colors, played toro with one who was inside a frame of wood. One man, completely naked, painted grotesquely, pranced through the streets on all fours; young fellows, dressed in women's clothes, with faces masked or painted, wandered about singly, addressing persons on the street in a high falsetto voice with all sorts of woeful stories or absurd questions. Very pretty was a company of trained dancers,—with a standard, leader, music, and fancy costume,—each of whom carried two staves in his hands; these performed a variety of graceful movements, and sung a song in Spanish; this was interestingly like the song of the xtoles, and the movements were almost precisely theirs. In the evening, we attended the baile de los mestizos—dance of the mestizos, where the elite of the little city was gathered, and the place was crowded. Very little of it was enough, for while the music and dancing were all right, the heat, the tobacco-smoke, and the perfume, were overpowering.
To our joy, on Wednesday, the "Hidalgo" appeared, bound for Coatzacoalcos. All day Thursday we waited for it to unload its cargo, and on Friday morning, we loaded into a little sail-boat at the wharf, which we hired for a price far below what the regular steamer would have charged to take us to our vessel. The luggage had been weighed and valued, and an imposing bill of lading, and an official document, had been made out, to prevent our paying duty a third time when we should reach our port. At 10:30 we were on the "Hidalgo," ready for leaving. It is the crankiest steamer on the Ward Line, and dirty in the extreme. The table is incomparably bad. The one redeeming feature is that the first-class cabins are good, and on the upper deck, where they receive abundance of fresh air; there were plenty of seats for everyone to sit upon the deck, a thing which was not true of the "Benito Juarez." Of other first-class passengers, there were two harmless Yucatecan gentlemen—one of whom was seasick all the voyage,—and two Americans, brothers, one from St. Louis, Mo., and the other from Springfield, Ill. The captain of our vessel was a Norwegian, the first officer was a Mexican, the chief engineer an American, the purser a low-German, the chief steward an Oaxaca indian, and the cook a Filipino. Never was I so glad to reach a resting-place, never so relieved, as when we got our baggage and our sick man safely on board. As to the latter, he at once lay down, and, practically, was not on his feet during the voyage. We had expected to make the run in thirty hours, but were hindered by rough weather, catching portions of two northers; the second was so bad that, when almost in sight of our destination, we were forced to put to sea again, and lost many hours of time and miles of distance. On the morning of the third day, however, we had dropped anchor, and on looking from the cabins at five, caught sight of Coatzacoalcos; but it was not the Coatzacoalcos of 1896. Prodigious changes had taken place. The Pearson Company, having taken possession of the railroad, had made great improvements; their pretentious general-offices, located at the wharf, had recently been completed; the railroad station had been improved; the old shack, where we slept in 1896, had been torn down, and a construction track occupied its place; on the little rise behind, a pretty and large hotel had been erected; on the higher land, to the right, a line of well-built houses, making some pretension to architectural effect, had been constructed. It was only after landing, and walking through the older portions of the town, that any familiar scenes were recognized. Though we were ready to land at five, and wished to catch the train at seven, we were forced to wait for the official inspection, and saw the longed-for train—and there would be no other for two days—pull out before our eyes. Finally, at nine o'clock, we were permitted to land. To my surprise, my shipping document was called for, but, being produced, we were subjected to no difficulty. The balance of the day was spent in wandering about the village, meeting former acquaintances, attending to odds and ends of shipment, and strolling on the familiar beach, which was still covered with scurrying crabs and sprinkled with white "sand dollars." During the night, a terrific norther blew, and the next day, cold, dull gray, rainy, kept us in-doors. By this time, the purser of the "Hidalgo," who had himself had yellow fever, and said he was familiar with it, had convinced us that Ramon really had had a slight touch of that dread disease, but having passed his tenth day of sickness, was destined to recover, and would be no serious menace to other people.