It may be objected that this quotation proves nothing at all, that ceibas grow everywhere, and that the taking of possession could be easily effected on any spot of the Mexican soil. Just so; yet a remarkable coincidence is this, that no ceibas grow about the village of that name, that the one cut by Cortez, owing to the rapid growth of such trees, must long since have disappeared, and that on my inquiring for “Ceiba” at the village supposed to be it, no one seemed to know.
It is a well-ascertained fact that an appellation given in honour of a great event to a certain spot lives on when the object which gave rise to it has perished. Is it so unreasonable to suppose that the Spaniards who settled later at Ceiba, a spot consecrated by the taking of possession, on identifying Cortez’ tree, should name the village they erected after it? If I make a running comment on history, if I discover points of analogy at every step, I do so whilst visiting carefully the very places under notice, bearing in mind historical accounts. These details are of vital importance in affirming the existence of Comalcalco at the time of the Conquest, as also that Rio Seco was then a large river whose course was turned by the Spaniards to ruin the Indian city, which rose on its banks.
Of the beauty of the country between Ceiba and Paraïso no words of expression, no painter’s brush could give an adequate idea: noble avenues of cocoa and palm-trees open out at almost every stroke of the oar; lovely plants of tender green, with light yellow clustering flowers, float down the rapid stream, forming fairy-like rafts which remind us of the Mexican chinampas. My admiration for this lovely scene around me, finds no echo among my travelling companions, who are either sleeping or differently engrossed. The longer I observe the high banks, the bed both wide and deep of this stream, now reduced to a torrent, the more firmly am I convinced that it was at some time a great river, whose course whether nature or man have altered within a comparatively recent period, and tradition here becomes historical truth.
We reach Paraïso at last; the name had prepared us for something better than the wretched hamlet where we land. It was destroyed, it seems, in a local affray, as the ruins, the fallen trunks of large trees sufficiently attest. Outward appearance is no sure index to gauge Paraïso or its “descalzado” inhabitants, who are in reality well-to-do. The good man who kindly offered to escort us about, is, for this country, quite wealthy; nor is he a solitary instance of friendliness, it seems to pervade the whole community. The place has no hotel or inn of any kind, but a house is easily got to serve our purpose, as much food as we want is forced upon us by these good-natured people; and if it is not quite English hospitality, it is very near it. The Paraïsians are perfectly satisfied with their condition in life; their wishes are few, and such as the fertility of the soil will easily meet; want is unknown, life easy, the climate admits of but the scantiest clothing, and if they have more than their share of rain, they are troubled with fewer mosquitoes than most of their neighbours. In fact, these charming people are fully convinced that all is for the best in this best of worlds, and that if Paraïso is not heaven itself, it is not far from it.
TERRA-COTTA MASK, FOUND AT BELLOTE.
VIRGIN FOREST NEAR COMALCALCO.