Arriving at this picturesque town we went at once to the hotel. This hostelry consisted of a chain of rooms built upon posts about nine feet from the ground, and extending around the central market-place. There is a veranda around the inside of the square, from which one may obtain a good view of the market. The stands, or stalls, are around the outer edge under the tier of rooms, while in the center men and women sit on the ground beside piles of a great variety of fresh vegetables and other perishable articles for household use. There is perhaps no better selection of vegetables to be found in any market in America than we saw here.
The partitions dividing the tier of rooms were very thin and extended up only about two-thirds of the way from the floor to the ceiling, so there was an air-space connecting all the rooms overhead. One could hear every word spoken in the adjoining room on either side. The furnitureconsisted of a cot-bed, a wash-stand and a chair. We each procured a room, and as we looked them over and noted the open space overhead, someone remarked that "it would be a great place for smallpox." Having had no sleep the night before, and being very tired after sitting in a cramped position all night in the boat, we retired shortly after reaching town. At about four o'clock in the afternoon I was awakened by a vigorous pounding at my door, and my two companions, who were outside, shouted, "Get up quick!there is a case of smallpox in the next room!" I jumped up quickly and in my dazed condition put on what clothing I could readily lay my hands on, and snatching up my shoes and coat ran out on the veranda. After getting outside I discovered that I had gotten into my trousers hind side before and had left my hat, collar, shirt and stockings behind, but did not return for them. We all beat a hasty retreat around the veranda to the opposite side, of the court, or square, and the people in the market-place below having heard the pounding on the door, and seeing me running along the veranda in mydéshabilléconcluded that the place was afire. Someone gave the alarm of fire, and general pandemonium ensued. The women-peddlers and huxsters in the market hastily gathered up such of their effects as they could carry and ran out of the inclosure into the street. In remarkable contrastto the usual solicitude and thoughtfulness of motherhood, I saw one woman gather up a piece of straw-matting with about fifty pounds of dried shrimp and scurry out into the street, leaving her naked baby sitting howling on the bare ground. Vegetables and all sorts of truck were hurriedly dumped into bags and carried out. Happily this episode occurred in the afternoon when there was comparatively little doing, and very few pedestrians in the place; for had it happened in the early morning when all the people are gathered to purchase household necessities for the day, a serious panic would have been inevitable. About this time our interpreter appeared, and three soldiers in white uniforms came rushing up to us and enquired where the fire was. My companions explained to the soldiers, through the interpreter, that it was only a practical joke they had played on me. It now became my turn to laugh, for they were both placed under arrest and taken before the magistrate, charged with disturbing the peace and starting a false alarm of fire. When the interpreter explained the matter to the magistrate that official lost his dignity for a moment and laughed outright. He was a good-natured old fellow (an unusual characteristic, I understand, among Mexican magistrates) and appreciated the joke even more than I did. He recovered his dignity and composure long enough to give us an impressive warning not to playany more such pranks, and dismissed the case.
Our baggage did not arrive until five days later, and was soaking wet, as the boatman said he had encountered a gale in which he had barely escaped inundation.
There was an American merchant in Tuxpam by the name of Robert Boyd, whose store was the headquarters of all Americans, both resident and traveling. Had we talked with Mr. Boyd before going to Mexico there would have been no occasion for writing this narrative. He was an extremely alert trader and in his thirty years' residence, by conducting a general store and trafficking in such native products aschicle(gum,—pronounced chickly), hides, cedar, rubber and vanilla, which he shipped in small quantities to New York, he had accumulated about $50,000 (Mexican). We had expected to make on an average that sum for every day we spent in Mexico, and were astonished that a man of his commanding appearance and apparent ability should be running a little store and doing a small three-penny[7]business. Three months later we would have concluded that any Americanwho could make fifty thousand dollars by trading with Mexicans for thirty years is highly deserving of a bronze monument on a conspicuous site. For clever trading in a small way, the Mexican is as much ahead of the average Yankee as our present methods of printing are ahead of those employed in Caxton's time. They are exceedingly cunning traders and will thrive where even the Italian fruit-vender would starve.
When we informed Mr. Boyd that we had come in search of vanilla, rubber and coffee lands he must have felt sorry for us; in fact he admitted as much to me a few months later when I knew him better. With his characteristic courtesy, however, he told us of several places that we might visit. We learned for the first time thatthe three industries require entirely different soils and altitudes. For coffee-land he recommended that we go up the Tuxpam River to what was known as theMesa(high table-lands) district, while for vanilla-land he recommended either Misantla or Papantla, further down the coast; and rubber trees, he said, could be grown with moderate success in certain localities around Tuxpam. He did not discourage us, because it was not consonant with his business interests to dissuade American enterprise and investments there, no matter how ill-advised the speculation might be. Others before us had come and gone; some had left their money, while others had been wise enough to get back home with it, and stay there. Some investors had returned wiser, but never was one known to return richer. All this, however, we did not learn until later. We made several short journeys on horseback, but found no lands that seemed suitable for our purposes. There were too many impediments in the vanilla industry,—not least among which was the alacrity with which the natives will steal the vanilla-beans as fast as they mature. In fact, a common saying there is, "catch your enemy in your vanilla-patch,"—for you would be justified in shooting him at sight, even though he happened there by accident. It requires a watchman to every few dozen vines (which are grown among the trees) and then for every few watchmen itneeds another watchman to keep an observing eye on them. Again, the vanilla country is uncomfortably near the yellow fever zone.
As to rubber, we found very few trees in bearing, and the few scattering ones we saw that had been "tapped," or rather "gashed," in order to bleed them of their milk, were slowly dying. True, the native method of extracting the milk from the trees was crude, but they did not appear hardy.
One of the principal articles of export from this section is chicle. The reader may not be aware that a great deal of our chewing-gum comes from this part of Mexico, and that it is a thoroughly pure and wholesome vegetable product. The nativeChiclerois the best paid man among the common laborers in Mexico. Tying one end of a long rope around his waist he climbs up the tree to the first large limb—perhaps from thirty to sixty feet—and throwing the other end of the rope over the branch lets himself down slowly by slipping the rope through his left hand, while with the right hand he wields a short bladed machete with which he chops gashes in the tree at an angle of about forty-five degrees, which leading into a little groove that he makes all the way down, conducts the sap down to the base of the tree, where it is carried into a basin or trough by means of a leaf inserted in a gash in the tree near the ground. This is a very hazardous undertaking and requires for itsperformance a dexterous, able-bodied man. A single misstroke may sever the rope and precipitate the operator to the ground. In this way a great number of men are killed every year. The sap is a thick, white creamy substance, and is boiled down in vats the same as the sap from the maple tree. When it reaches a certain thickness or temperature it is allowed to cool, after which it is made up into chunks or squares weighing from ten to forty pounds each. It is then carried to market on mule-back. The crude chicle has a delightful flavor, which is entirely destroyed by the gum-manufacturers, who mix in artificial flavors, with a liberal percentage of sugar. If the gum-chewer could obtain crude chicle with its delicious native flavor he (or she) would never be content to chew the article as prepared for the trade.
Rubber is produced in the same way as chicle, and the milk from the rubber tree is scarcely distinguishable, except in flavor, from that of the chicle-producing tree. The latter, however, grows to much greater size and is more hardy. It abounds throughout the forests in the lowlands. The native rubber trees die after being gashed a few times, and those we saw in bearing were very scattering. You might not see a dozen in a day's travel.
The easiest way to make money on rubber trees is to write up a good elastic article on the possibilities of the industry, form a ten or twentymillion dollar corporation and sell the stock to the uninitiated,—if there are any such left. It would be a debatable question with me, however, which would be the more attractive from an investment point of view,—stock in a rubber company in Mexico, or one in Mars. Both would have their advantages; the one in Mexico would possess the advantage of closer proximity, while the one in Mars would have the advantage of being so far away that one could never go there to be disillusioned. The chances for legitimate returns would be about the same in both places. It seems a pity that any of those persons who ever bought stock in bogus Mexican development companies should have suffered the additional humiliation of afterwards going down there to see what they had bought into.
It is surprising that up to the present time no one has appeared before the credulous investing public with a fifty-million dollar chicle corporation, for here is a valuable commodity that grows wild in the woods almost everywhere, and a highly imaginative writer could devote a whole volume to the unbounded possibilities of making vast fortunes in this industry.
While I was in Mexico a friend sent me some advertising matter of one of these development companies that was paying large dividends on its enormous capital stock from the profits on pineapples and coffee, when in point of fact there was not a coffee-tree on its place, and it wasproducing scarcely enough pineapples to supply the caretaker's family.
In regard to coffee, we found that some American emigration company appeared to be making a legitimate effort to test the productivity of that staple, and had sent a number of thrifty American families into Mexico and settled them at themesa,[8]several miles inland from Tuxpam. They had cleared up a great deal of land and put out several thousand coffee-plants. There are many reasons why this crop cannot be extensively and profitably raised in this part of Mexico,—and for that matter, I presume, in any other part. Foremost among the many obstacles is the labor problem. The native help is not only insufficient, but is utterly unreliable. It is at picking-time that the greatest amount ofhelp is required, and even if it were possible to rely upon the laborers, and there were enough of them, there would not be sufficient work to keep them between the harvest-seasons. It would be totally impracticable to import laborers; the expense and the climate would both be prohibitive. Again, the price of labor here has increased greatly of late years, without a corresponding appreciation in the price of coffee.[9]
Neither vanilla, coffee nor rubber had ever been profitably raised in large quantities and we therefore decided that under the existing circumstances and hindrances we would dismiss these three articles from further consideration.
If we had been content to return home and charge our trip to experience account, all would have been well,—but we pursued our investigations along other lines. The possibilities of the tobacco industry claimed our attention for awhile—it also claimed a considerable amount of money from one of my companions. Someone (perhaps the one who had the land for sale) had recently discovered that the ground in a certain locality was peculiarly suited to the growth of fine tobacco, which could be raised atlow cost and sold at fabulous prices. We learned that a large tract of land in this singularly-favored district was for sale; so thither we went in search of information. The soil was rich and heavily wooded; it looked as though it might produce tobacco or almost anything else. I neither knew nor cared anything about tobacco-raising and the place did not therefore interest me in the least. One of my companions, however, had been doing a little figuring on his own account, and had calculated that he could buy this place, hire a foreman to run it, put in from five to eight hundred acres of tobacco that year, and that the place would pay for itself and be self-sustaining the second year. By the third year he would have a thousand acres in tobacco, and the profits would be enormous. It would not require his personal attention, and he could send monthly remittances from home for expenses, and probably come down once a year on apleasure trip. Parenthetically, by way of assurance to the reader that the man had not entirely lost his reason, I may say that we learned in Tuxpam that of all routes and modes of travel to that place we had selected by far the worst; that the best way was to take a Ward Line Steamer from New York to Havana, and from there around by Progreso, Campeche, and up the coast to Vera Cruz, thence to Tuxpam. From Tuxpam the steamers go to Tampico, then back to Havana and New York.However, one cannot count with certainty on landing at Tuxpam, as the steamers are obliged to stop outside the bar and the passengers and cargo have to be lightered over. The steamers often encounter bad weather along the coast, and it frequently happens that passengers and freight destined for Tuxpam are carried on up to Tampico.
My friend had gotten his money easily and was now unconsciously planning a scheme for spending it with equal facility. The more we tried to dissuade him the more convinced he was of the feasibility of the plan. We argued that no one had ever made any money in tobacco there, and that it was an untried industry. He said that made no difference; it was because they didn't know how to raise tobacco. He would import a practical tobacco-man from Cuba—which he finally did, under a guarantee of $200 a month for a year—and that he would show the Mexicans how to raise tobacco. He bought the place, arranged through a friend in Cuba for an expert tobacco-raiser, and sent couriers through the country to engage a thousand men for chopping and clearing. He was cautioned against attempting to clear too much land, as it was very late. The rainy season begins in June, and after that it is impossible to burn the clearings over. The method of clearing land here is to cut down the trees and brush early in the spring, trim off the branches and let them lie until thoroughly dry.In felling a forest and chopping up the brush and limbs it forms a layer over the entire area, sometimes five or six feet deep. Under the hot sun of April and May, during which time it rarely rains more than a slight sprinkle, this becomes very dry and highly inflammable. Early in June the fires are set, and at this season the whole country around is filled with a hazy atmosphere. The heat from the bed of burning tinder is so intense that most of the logs are consumed and many of the stumps are killed; thus preventing them from sprouting. Every foul seed in the ground is destroyed and for a couple of years scarcely any cultivation is required.
Our would-be tobacco-raiser paid no heed to advice or words of warning; he was typical of most Americans who seek to make fortunes in Mexico,—they have great difficulty in getting good advice, but it is ten times more difficult to get them to follow it. You rarely obtain trustworthy information from your own countrymen who have investments there, for the chances are fifty to one that they are anxious to sell out, and will paint everything in glowing hues in the hope that they may unload their burdens on you. Even if they have nothing to sell, they are none the less optimistic, for they like to see you invest your money. Wretched conditions are in a measure mitigated by companionship; in other words, "Misery loves company."
Hereafter I shall refer to the man who bought the tobacco land as Mr. A., and to my other companion as Mr. B.
Mr. A. was delayed in getting his foreman and had the customary difficulty in hiring help. Three hundred men was all he could muster at first, and they were secured only by paying a liberal advance of twenty-five per cent. over the usual wages. They began cutting timber about the 28th of April,—the season when this work should have been finished, and continued until the rainy season commenced, when scarcely any of the clearing had been burned; and after the rains came it was impossible to start a fire, so the whole work of felling upwards of four hundred acres of forest was abandoned. Every stub and stump seemed to shoot up a dozen sprouts, and growing up through the thick layer of brush, branches and logs, they formed a network that challenged invasion by man or beast. The labor was therefore all lost and the tobacco project abandoned in disgust.
I was told by one of the oldest inhabitants—past ninety—that it had never once failed to rain on San Juan's (Saint John's) Day, the 24th of June. Sometimes the rainy season begins a little earlier, and occasionally a little later, but that day never passes without bringing at least a light shower. Of course it was in accord with my friend's run of luck that this should be the year when the rainy season began prematurely; but the truth of the matter is, it was about themost fortunate circumstance that could have occurred; for as it turned out he lost only the money laid out for labor, together with the excess price paid for the land above what it was worth; whereas, had everything gone well he was likely to have lost many thousands of dollars more.[10]
In the meantime I had been looking the field over industriously, and had concluded that the sugar and cattle industries promised the surest and greatest returns. I heard of a ranch, with sugar-plantation, for sale up in the Tuxpam valley. It was owned by an American who had occupied it forty-seven years, during which time he had made enough to live comfortably and educate two sons in American schools. He was well past seventy and wished to retire from the cares of active business,—which I regarded as a justifiable excuse for selling. We visited the place and found the only American-built housewe had seen since leaving home. The place was in a fairly good state of repair, though the pasture lands and canefields had been allowed to deteriorate. The whole place was for sale, including cattle, mules, wagons, sugar-factory, tenement houses, machinery and growing crops; in fact, everything went. The price asked appeared so low that I was astonished at the owner's modesty in estimating its value. I accepted his offer on the spot, paying a small sum down to bind the bargain,—fearing that he would change his mind. It was not long, however, before I changed my estimate of his modesty, and marveled at his boldness in having the courage to ask the price he did. On our way back to town my companions argued that I was foolish to try to make money in sugar or cattle raising; that there was no nearby market for the cattle, and that the Cuban sugar was produced so abundantly and so cheaply that there would be no profit in competing with it in the American market. This was perfectly sound logic, as testified to by later experiences, but it fell upon deaf ears. I had been inoculated with the sugar and cattle germ as effectively as my friend had been with the tobacco germ, and could see nothing but profit everywhere. Mr. A. was to have a Cuban tobacco man, and why couldn't I have an experienced Cuban sugar man? I expected to double the magnitude of the canefields, as the foreman—who promisedto remain—had declared that this could be done without crowding the capacity of the factory. I would also import some shorthorn cattle from the United States, and figured out that I should need a whole carload of farming implements.
It may be remarked that almost without exception the American visitor here is immediately impressed with the unbounded possibilities of making vast fortunes. The resources of the soil appear almost limitless. The foliage of the trees and shrubs is luxuriant the year round, and the verdure of the pastures and all vegetation is inspiring at all seasons. The climate is delightful, even in midsummer, and with such surroundings and apparent advantages for agricultural pursuits one marvels at the inactivity and seeming stupidity of the natives. After a few months' experience in contending with the multiplicity of pests and perversities that stand athwart the path of progress, and becoming inoculated with the monotony of the tropical climate, one can but wonder that there should be any energy or ambition at all. The tendency of Americans is always to apply American energy and ideas to Mexican conditions, with the result that nothing works harmoniously. The country here is hundreds of years behind our times, and cannot be brought into step with our progressiveness except by degrees. Our modern methods and ideas assimilate with those of Mexico very slowly, if at all. It is almost impossible todevelop any one locality or industry independent of the surroundings. The truth is, if you would live comfortably in Mexico (which in these parts is quite beyond human possibility) you must live as Mexicans do, for they are clever enough, and have lived here long enough, to make the best of conditions. If you would farm successfully in Mexico, you must farm precisely as they do, for you will eventually find that there is some well-grounded reason for every common usage; and if you would make money in Mexico, stay away entirely and dismiss the very thought of it. Pure cream cannot be extracted from chalk and water,—though it may look like milk,—because the deficiency of the necessary elements forbids it; no more can fortunes be made in this part of Mexico, because they are not here to be made, as every condition forbids their accumulation. The impoverished condition of the people is such that a large percentage of the families subsist on an average income of less than ten cents a day, silver.
Although the peon class are indigent, lazy and utterly devoid of ambition they are so by virtue of climatic and other conditions that surround them, and of which they can be but the natural outgrowth. The debilitating effects of the climate, and the numberless bodily pests draw so heavily upon human vitality that it is surprising that any one after a year's residence there can muster sufficient energy to work atall. The natives, after a day's labor will throw themselves upon the hard ground and fall asleep, calmly submitting to the attack of fleas and wood-ticks as a martyrdom from which it is useless to attempt to escape. It is a labored and painful existence they lead, and it is not to be wondered at that smallpox, pestilence and death have no terror for them; indeed, they hail these as welcome messengers of relief. When by the pangs of hunger they are driven to the exertion of work they will do a fair day's labor, if kept constantly under the eye of a watchman, orcapitan, as he is called. One of these is required for about every ten or twelve workmen; otherwise they would do nothing at all. If twenty workmen were sent to the field to cut brush, without designating someone as captain, they would not in the course of the whole day clear a patch large enough to sit down on. The best workmen are the Indians that come down from the upper-country settlements. Upon leaving home they take along about twelve days' rations, usually consisting of black beans and corn ground up together into a thick dough and made into little balls a trifle larger than a hen's egg, and baked in hot ashes. They eat three of these a day,—one for each meal,—and when the supply is exhausted they collect their earnings and return to their homes, no matter how urgent the demand for their continued service may be. In two or threeweeks they will return again with another supply of provisions and stay until it is consumed, but no longer. If Thoreau could have seen how modestly these people live he would have learned a lesson in economic living such as he never dreamed of. The frugality of his meagre fare at his Walden pond hermitage would have appeared like wanton luxury by comparison. If the virtue of honesty can be ascribed to any of these laborers the Indians are entitled to the larger share of it. They keep pretty much to themselves and seldom inter-marry or mingle socially with the dusky-skinned Aztecs.
It is difficult to get the natives to work as long as they have a little corn fortortillasor a pound of beans in the house. I have known dozens of instances where they would come at daylight in search of a day's work, leaving the whole family at home without a mouthful of victuals. If successful in getting work they would prefer to take their day's pay in corn, and would not return to work again until it was entirely exhausted. Hundreds of times at my ranch men applying for work were so emaciated and exhausted from lack of nourishment that they had to be fed before they were in a fit condition to send to the field.
The basic element of wealth is money, and it is impossible to make an exchange of commodities for money in great quantity where it exists only in small quantity. In other words, if youwould make money it is of first importance that you go where there is money. If—as is the case—a man will labor hard from sunrise to sunset in Mexico, and provision himself, for twenty-five cents in gold, it would indicate either a scarcity of gold or a superabundance of willing laborers, and it must be the former, for the latter does not exist. Some have argued that money is to be made in Mexico by producing such articles as may be readily exchanged for American gold, but there are very few articles of merchandise for which we areobligedto go to Mexico, and these cost to produce there nearly as much or more than we have to pay for them. For example, a pound of coffee in Mexico[11]costs fifty cents, the equivalent in value to the labor of an able-bodied man for twelve hours. There is some good reason for this condition, else it would not exist. In other words, if it didn't cost the monetary value of twelve hours' work (less the merchant's reasonable profit, of course) to produce a pound of coffee, it would not cost that to buy it there. It does not seem logical, therefore, that it can be produced and sold profitably to a country where a pound of this commodity is equal in value to less than two hours of a man's labor. If it were so easy and profitable to raise coffee, every native might have his own little patch for home use, andpossibly a few pounds to sell. In order to be profitable, commodities must be turned out at a low cost and sold at a high cost; but here is a case where some visionary Americans have thought to get rich by working directly against the order of economic and natural laws. I have not consulted statistics to ascertain how the Mexican exports to the United States compare with their imports of our products, but it is a significant fact, as stated at the beginning of this narrative, that the highest premium obtainable for American money is for eastern exchange, used in settling balances for imports of American goods. The needs of the average Mexican are very small beyond the products of his own soil, and if the agricultural exports from their eastern ports were large the merchants would have but little difficulty in purchasing credits on New York, or any important eastern or southern seaport.
I had the good fortunenotto be able to make any satisfactory arrangement for a practical sugar-maker from Cuba. I was more fortunate than my friend Mr. A., in not having any friend there to look out for me. Thus I saved not only the cost of an expert's services, which, comparatively speaking, would have been a trifling item, but was held up in making the contemplated extensions and improvements until my sugar-fever had subsided and I had regained my normal senses, after which I was quitecontented to conduct the place in its usual way with a few slight improvements here and there. I had not in so short a time become quite reconciled, however, to the idea that the place could not be run at a profit; but figured that it could be made to yield me a considerable revenue above expenses, and that it would afford a desirable quartering-place for my family on an occasional tropical visit in winter. After returning home later in the season I induced my family to return with me in the fall and spend a part of the following winter there; and although we experienced the novelty on Christmas-day of standing on our front porch and picking luscious ripe oranges from the trees,—one of which stands at each side of the steps,—I have never again been able to bring my persuasive powers to a point where I could induce them to set foot on Mexican soil. It is largely due to the abhorrence of smallpox, malaria, snakes, scorpions, tarantulas,garrapatas, fleas, and a few other minor pests and conditions to which they object. Mosquitoes, however, did not molest us at the ranch.
Once while we were at the ranch my wife was told by one of the servants that there was a woman at the front door to see her. Upon going into the hall she found that the woman had stepped inside and taken a seat near the door. She arose timidly, with a bundle in her arms—which proved to be a babe—and spoke,but Mrs. Harper could not understand a word she said. The maid had entered the hall immediately behind my wife, and, as she spoke both Spanish and English, the woman explained through her that the baby was suffering with smallpox, and that she had heard that there was an American woman there who could cure it. The resultant confusion in the household beggars description. Every time I mention Mexico at home I get a graphic rehearsal of this scene. The poor woman had walked ten miles, carrying her babe, and thought she was doing no harm in bringing it in and sitting down to rest for a moment. She was put into a boat and taken down the river to Tuxpam by one of the men on the place who had already passed through the stages of this disease, and under the treatment of a Spanish physician whom I had met there the child recovered and was sent back home with its mother.
It may be observed that since arriving at Tuxpam I have appeared to neglect my friend Mr. B., but, although so far as this narrative is concerned he has not as yet been much in evidence, he was by far the busiest man in the party. Being the only unmarried man in our company he had not been long in Mexico when he began to busy himself with an industry in which single men hold an unchallenged monopoly, and one that is far more absorbing than vanilla, rubber, coffee, sugar and tobacco allcombined. The immediate cause of his diversion was due to a visit that we all made to the large hacienda of a wealthy Spanish gentleman of education and refinement, who had a very beautiful and accomplished daughter but recently returned home with her mother from an extended tour through Europe, following her graduation from a fashionable and well-known ladies' seminary in America. I have made the statement in the foregoing pages that no American fortune-hunter had been known to return home from here richer than when he came, but later on we shall see that this no longer remains a truth. For the present, however, as long as we are now discussing problems of vulgar commerce, we shall leave Mr. B. undisturbed in his more engaging pursuit, and return to his case later.
Next to silver, corn is the staple and standard of value in Mexico, though its price fluctuates widely. Everybody, and nearly every animal, both untamed and domestic, and most of the insects, feed upon this article. It is the one product of the soil that can be readily utilized and converted into cash in any community and at any season. The price is usually high, often reaching upwards of the equivalent of $1 a bushel. It is measured not by the bushel, but by thefanega, which weighs 225 pounds. It may appear a strange anomaly that the principal native product should be so high in a soil of suchwonderful productivity. An acre of ground will produce from fifty to seventy-five bushels,twice a year. It is planted in June as soon as the rains break the long, monotonous dry season which extends through March, April and May, and is harvested early in October; then the same ground is planted again in December for harvesting early in April. The ground requires no plowing and, if recently cleared, no weeding; so all that is necessary to do is to plant the corn and wait for it to mature. It sounds easy and looks easy, but, as with everything else, there are a few obstacles. Corn is planted in rows, about the same distance apart as in America, and is almost universally of the white variety, as this is the best fortortillas. The planting is accomplished by puncturing the ground with a hardwood pole, sharpened at one end. The hole is made from four to six inches deep, when the top of the pole is moved from one side to another so that the point loosens up the subsoil and makes an opening at the bottom of the hole the same width as that at the top. The corn is then dropped in and covered with a little dirt which is knocked in by striking the point of the pole gently at the opening. The moisture, however, would cause it to sprout and grow even if not covered at all. The difficulties now begin and continue successively and uninterruptedly at every stage of development to maturity, and even until the corn is finally consumed. Thefirst of these difficulties is in the form of a small red ant which appears in myriads and eats the germ of the kernels as soon as they are planted. When the corn sprouts there is a small cut-worm that attacks it in great numbers. When the sprouts begin to make their appearance above the ground there is a blackbird lying in wait at every hill to pull it up and get the kernel. These birds, which in size are between our crow and blackbird, appear in great numbers and would destroy a ten-acre field of corn in one day if not frightened away. They have long sharp beaks, and insatiable appetites. Following these the army-worm attacks the stalk when knee high, and penetrating it at the top or tassel-end stops its growth and destroys it. These ravages continue until the corn begins to tassel, if any is so fortunate as to reach that stage. When the ears appear another worm works in at the silk, and a little later a small bird resembling our sapsucker puts in his claim to a share in the crop. Beginning at the outer edge of the field and proceeding down the row from one hill to another, he penetrates the husks of almost every ear with his needlelike bill, and the moment the milky substance of the corn is reached the ear is abandoned and another attacked. When punctured in this way the ear withers and dries up without maturing. The succession is then taken up by the parrots and parrakeets, which abound in Mexico. They may be seen in flocks flyingoverhead or hovering over some field, constantly chattering and squawking, at almost any hour of the day. When the corn begins to mature the raccoons appear from the woods, and entering a field at night they eat and destroy the corn like a drove of hogs. As a means of protection against these pests many of the natives keep a number of dogs, which they tie out around the field at night, and which keep up an almost constant barking and howling. Finally, just as the corn has matured and the kernels are hardening the fall rains begin, and often continue for days and even weeks with scarcely an interruption. The water runs down into the ear through the silks and rots the corn. In order to prevent this it is necessary to break every stalk just below the ear and bend the tops with the ears down so the water will run off. Later it is husked and carried to the crib, when it is subjected to the worst of all the evils, the black weevil. The eggs from which this insect springs are deposited in the corn while in the field and commence to hatch soon after it is harvested. I have personally tested this by taking an ear of corn from the field and after shelling it placed the corn in a bottle, which was corked up and set away. In about three weeks the weevils began to appear, and in six weeks every kernel was destroyed. At first I wondered why the Mexicans usually planted their corn in such small patches and so near the house, but in view of the foregoing factsthis is easily explained. Almost the same vexatious conditions prevail in nearly everything that one attempts to do in this country, the variety and numbers of enemies and hindrances varying with each undertaking. There is a hoodoo lurking in every bush, and no matter which way the stranger turns he finds himself enmeshed in a veritable entanglement of impediments and aggravations.
All along and up and down the banks of the Tuxpam River, and in other more remote localities, there are countless wrecks and ruins of sugar mills, distilleries and other evidences of former American industry, which mark the last traces of blighted ambitions and ruined fortunes of investors. The weeds and bushes have overgrown the ruins and tenderly sheltered them from the sun's rays and the view of the uninquisitive passer-by. They have become the silent haunts of wild animals, scorpions and other reptiles. At the visitor's approach a flock of jaybirds will immediately set up a clamorous chattering and cawing in the surrounding trees, as if to reproach the trespasser who invades the lonely precincts of these isolated tomb-like abodes. They tell their own tale in more eloquent language than any writer could command. With each ruin there is a traditional and oftentimes pathetic story. In some cases the investor was fortunate enough to lose only his money, but in many instances the lives alongwith the fortunes of the more venturesome were sacrificed to some one or other of the various forms of pestilence which from time to time sweep over the country.
Among the native fruit products in this section the orange and the mango hold first rank, with bananas and plantains a close second. In close proximity to almost every native hut one will find a small patch of plantain and banana stalks. The plantain is made edible by roasting with the skin on, or by peeling and splitting it in halves and frying it in lard or butter.
Of all tropical fruits the mango is perhaps the most delicious. Its tree grows to enormous size and bears a prolific burden of fruit. In front of my house are a great number of huge mango trees which are said to have been planted more than two hundred years ago. The fruit picked up from under a single tree amounted to a trifle over one hundred and sixty-one bushels. Unlike the banana or even our American peaches, pears and plums, the mango is scarcely fit to eat unless allowed to ripen and drop off the tree. Much of the delicacy of its flavor is lost if plucked even a day before it is ready to fall. When picked green and shipped to the American markets it is but a sorry imitation of the fruit when allowed to ripen on the tree. It ripens in June, and it is almost worth one's while to make a flying trip to the tropics in that month just to sitbeneath the mango tree and eat one's fill of this fruit four or five times a day.
The only native fruit that ever could be profitably raised here for the American market is the orange. The Mexican orange is well known for its thin, smooth skin and superior flavor and sweetness. The trees thrive in the locality of Tuxpam, and bear abundantly from year to year without the least cultivation or attention. On my place thousands of bushels of this fruit drop off the trees and go to waste every year, there being no market for it. I made an experimental shipment of 1,000 boxes to New York on one of the Ward Line Steamers. After selecting, wrapping and packing them with the greatest care, and prepaying the freight, in due time I received a bill from the New York commission house for $275 (gold) for various charges incidental to receiving and hauling them to the public dump. The steamer, however, had been delayed several days. The ratio of profit on this transaction is a fair example of the returns that one may reasonably expect from an investment in any agricultural enterprise in Mexico.[12]If ever we get rapid steamer service between Tuxpam and Galveston or New Orleans, it is my belief thatorange-growing could be made profitable in this country, but until then it would be useless to consider the orange-growing industry.
Having had some experience in farming in my boyhood, I thought I knew more about corn-raising than the natives did and that I would demonstrate a few things that would be useful to them; so I instructed my foreman to procure a cultivator and cornplanter from the United States. At Tuxpam I found an American plow which had been on hand perhaps for some years, and was regarded by the natives as a sort of curiosity. No merchant had had the rashness,however, to stock himself with a cultivator or cornplanter. The foreman was ordered to plow about fifteen acres of ground and plant it to corn as an experiment. The natives hearing of the undertaking came from a distance to see the operation. They thought it was wonderful, but didn't seem to regard it with much favor. The piece was planted in due season, and the rows both ways were run as straight as an arrow. It required the combined efforts of all the extra help obtainable in the neighborhood to rid the corn of the pests that beset it, but after cultivating it three times and "laying it by," the height and luxuriance of growth it attained were quite remarkable. Standing a trifle over six feet tall I could not reach half the ears with the tips of my fingers. The ground was rich, and as mellow as an ash-heap and appeared to rejoice at the advent of the plow and cultivator. One night in August there came a hard rain, accompanied by the usual hurricanes at this season, and next morning when I went out, imagine my astonishment to find that not a hill of corn in the whole field was standing! Its growth was so rank and the ground so mellow that the weight of one hill falling against another bore it down, and the whole field was laid as flat as though a roller had been run over it. It was all uprooted and the roots were exposed to the sun and air. We didn't harvest an ear of corn from the whole fifteen acres. Theother corn in the neighborhood withstood the gale without any damage. This experience explained why it is that the natives always plant corn in hard ground, and also furnishes additional proof that it is usually safe to adhere pretty closely to the prevailing customs, and exercise caution in trying any innovations.
After clearing a piece of land for corn the natives will plant it for a couple of years, then abandon it to the weeds and brush for awhile. They then clear another piece, and in two or three years the abandoned piece is covered with a growth of brush sufficiently heavy so that when cut and burned the fire destroys such seeds as have found their way into the piece. After land here has been planted for a few years it becomes so foul with weeds that it would be impossible for a man with a hoe to keep them down on more than an acre. It is surprising how rapidly and thickly they grow. The story of the southern gentleman who said that in his country the pumpkin vines grew so fast that they wore the little pumpkins out dragging them over the ground would seem like a plausible truth when compared with what might be said of rapid growth in Mexican vegetation. They say that the custom of wearing machetes at all times is really a necessity, as when a man goes to the field in the morning there is no knowing but that it may rain and the weeds grow up and smother him before he can get back home. Iam, however, a little skeptical on this point.
A serious difficulty which has to be reckoned with in Mexico is the utter disregard that many of the natives have for the property rights of others. Pigs, chickens, calves, and even grown cattle, are constantly disappearing as quietly and effectually as though the earth had opened in the night and swallowed them. One evening a native came in from a distance of twelve miles to purchase six cents' worth of mangos, and being otherwise unencumbered in returning home he took along a calf which he picked up as he passed the outer gate. At another time when the cane mill was started in the morning, it was discovered that a large wrench, weighing probably twenty pounds, was missing. There being no other mill of similar construction in the community, it was inconceivable that anyone could have had any use for the wrench. The foreman called the men all together and told them of the disappearance. He discharged the whole force of more than a hundred men, and said there would be no more work until the wrench was returned. Next morning it was found in its accustomed place at the mill, and every man was there ready to go to work.
Shortly after buying the ranch I was spending the night there, and went out to hunt deer by means of a jack,—a small lamp with a reflector, carried on top of the head, and fastened around the hatband. Assuming that the reader maynot have had any experience in this lonesome sport, I would explain that on a dark night the light from the jack being cast into the eyes of an animal in the foreground produces a reflection in the distance resembling a coal of fire. If the wind is favorable, one can approach to within thirty to fifty yards of a deer, which will stand intently gazing at the light. The light blinds the eye of the animal so that the person beneath cannot be seen even at a distance of twenty feet. The hunter can determine how near he is to the game only by the distance that appears to separate the eyes. For instance, at 125 to 150 yards the eyes of a deer will shine in the darkness as one bright coal of fire, and as one approaches nearer they slowly separate until at fifty to sixty paces they appear to be three or four inches apart, depending upon the size of the animal. It is then time to fire. It is always best to proceed against the wind, if there is any, otherwise the deer will scent your presence. The eye of a calf or burro will shine much the same as that of a deer, and one must be cautious when hunting in a pasture. I took my shotgun with a few shells loaded with buckshot, and passing through the canefield came to a clearing about half a mile from the house. As I approached the opening I sighted a pair of eyes slowly moving towards me along the edge of a thicket next the clearing, apparently at a distance of about seventy-five yards. I knew itwas not a deer, because that animal will always stand still as soon as it sights a lamp. It was too large for a cat, and did not follow the customary actions of a dog; but what it was I couldn't imagine. The two enormous eyes came nearer and nearer, moving to first one side and then the other, the animal appearing to be unaware of my presence. When it approached to within perhaps fifty yards of where I stood, I thought it was time to shoot, and so cocking both hammers of my gun I blazed away, intending to fire only one barrel and keep the other for an emergency. In my excitement I must have pulled both triggers, as both cartridges went off with a terrific bang. The recoil sent me sprawling on my back in the brush, the gun jumping completely out of my hands and landing several feet distant. The light was extinguished by the fall, and I lay there in utter blackness. When I fired, the animal lunged into the thicket with a crash, and in the confusion of my own affairs immediately following, I heard no more sounds. I discovered that I had thoughtlessly come away without a match, and being unfamiliar with the territory, had no idea in which direction the house stood. Groping around in the dark I finally located the gun and struck back into the brush in what I supposed to be the direction I came. Presently I ran into a dense jungle of terrible nettles, which the natives callmala mujer(bad woman). They are coveredwith needlelike thorns and their sting is extremely painful and annoying. I was also covered with wood-ticks, which added appreciably to my misery. It was cloudy and the night was as dark as death. Realizing that I was on the wrong route it seemed necessary to spend the night there, but I could neither sit nor stand with comfort amid the nettles. After proceeding five or six hundred yards through these miserable prickly objects (which in height ranged from two to thirty feet, thus pricking and stinging me from my face to my knees) I suddenly plunged headlong over a steep embankment into the water, when I became aware that I had reached the river; but whether I was above or below the house (which stands back about a thousand yards from the river) I couldn't tell. After groping my way along under the river bank for nearly half a mile, during the space of which I again fell in twice, I concluded that with my customary luck I was headed the wrong way, and so retraced my steps and proceeded along down the river for nearly a mile, when I came to a landing-place. Leaving the river I went in the opposite direction a short distance, and soon bumped into some sort of a habitation. After feeling my way more than half-way around the hut and locating an aperture (the door) I hallooed at the top of my voice four or five times, and receiving no response I ventured in only to find the place vacant. Returning to the open I manœuvred around untilI found another hut, where I proceeded to howl until the natives woke up. I couldn't imagine how I was to make myself understood, as of course they could not understand a word of English. The man struck a match and seeing me standing in the door with a gun in my hand, and with my face all scratched and swollen to distortion from my explorations in the nettle patch, both he and his wife took fright and jumping through an opening on the opposite side of the room disappeared in the darkness, leaving me in sole possession of the place. After groping around the room in vain search of a match, and falling over about everything in the place, I returned to the open air. Meantime the clouds had begun to break away and I could see the dim outline of a large building a short distance beyond, which proved to be the sugar-mill. I was now able to get my bearings, and discovered that the hut from which the two people had fled was one of a number of a similar kind which belonged to the place and which were provided free for the workmen and their families that they might be kept conveniently at hand at all times. I was not long in finding the main road leading to the house, and when I arrived there everybody was asleep. After fumbling around all over the place in the dark I found a match and discovered that it was twenty-five minutes of three. Thus ended my first deer-hunt in Mexico. In the morning Inoticed thezopilotes(vultures) hovering over the field in the direction I had taken the night before, and upon going to the spot I found an enormous full-grown jaguar lying dead about ten feet from the edge of the clearing. Several shot had penetrated his head and body, and luckily, one entering his neck had passed under the shoulder-blade and through the heart. The natives said it was the only jaguar that had been seen in that locality for years, and it was the only one I saw during the whole of my travels in Mexico.
That morning it was discovered that every hut in the settlement at the mill had been vacated during the night, and there was not a piece of furniture or a native anywhere in sight; the place looked as desolate as a country-graveyard. Later in the day we found the whole crowd encamped back in the woods, and were told that during the night an Evil Spirit in the form of a white man with his face and clothes all bespattered with blood, had visited the settlement, and wielding a huge machete, also covered with blood, had threatened to kill every man, woman and child in the place. A few years prior to that an American had been foully murdered at the mill by a native, who used a machete in the operation, and this, they said, was the second time in five years that the murdered man had returned in spirit-form to wreak vengeance on the natives. It was morethan three months before they could all be induced to return to the houses. I cannot imagine what sort of an apparition it was that molested them the first time. The frightened native and his wife had doubtless returned and alarmed the others with a highly exaggerated story, and gathering up their few belongings they had fled for their lives. I told the foreman the circumstances, but he strongly advised me not to attempt to undeceive them, because they had a deepseated superstition about the mill, and no amount of explanation would convince them that the place was not haunted by the spirit of the murdered man, especially as this was their second alarm.
The peon class in Mexico are exceedingly superstitious and there is scarcely an act or circumstance but what portends some evil in the mind of one or another. About the only thing about which they have no superstitious misgivings is the act of carrying off something that does not belong to them.
Late one afternoon, while on a trip out through the country, we met an American in charge of two Mexican soldiers (in citizen's dress) who were returning with him to Tuxpam. They said he was a desperate character who had broken jail while awaiting trial for murder. He was seated astride a bare-backed horse and his legs were securely leashed to the body of the animal, while his feet were tied togetherunderneath. His arms were tied tightly behind his back, and altogether his situation seemed about as secure and uncomfortable as it could be made. He was not allowed to talk to us, but the officers talked rather freely. They said he had recently killed an officer who pursued him after breaking jail. The poor fellow looked harmless and passive, and had a kind, though expressionless, face. His eyes and cheeks were deeply sunken and he showed unmistakable evidence of long suffering. They had captured him by a stratagem, having overtaken him on the road and pretending to beamigos(friends) they offered to trade horses with him. His steed being much fatigued he eagerly grasped the opportunity to procure a fresh one, and as soon as he dismounted he was seized and overpowered. The vacant and hopeless expression of the prisoner as he sat there bound hand and foot, and unable to converse with his own countrymen was indeed pathetic, and judging by his looks we were convinced that he was not a hardened criminal. We therefore determined to look him up on our return to town and ascertain the facts. Three days later upon returning to Tuxpam we learned that soon after we passed the party the officers had camped for the night, and tying their victim to a tree had taken turns at guard duty during the night. At about three o'clock in the morning the prisoner had managed to work himself free from the bonds andwhile the officer on watch was starting a fire to warm the breakfast for an early morning start the prisoner pounced upon him and seizing his revolver struck him a blow on the head which laid him out. At this juncture the other officer woke up just in time to receive a bullet in his breast which despatched him to the other world. Taking one of the horses the fugitive fled, and up to the time I left Mexico he had not sent his address to the police authorities; nor did any of them appear very anxious to pursue him further. The officer who was first attacked came to his senses a little later, but he was perhaps more interested in looking to his own comfort and safety than in attempting to follow the fugitive, with the prospect of sharing the fate of his fellow-officer. We were informed that the prisoner had been a poor, hard-working, and law-abiding resident who had migrated to this country from Texas several years before, bringing with him his wife and one child. He had brought about $1,000 American money, which had been sunk in a small farm near Tuxpam where he had cast his lot, hoping to make a fortune. One night his home was invaded by a couple of drunken natives who were determined to murder the whole family on account of some imaginary grievance. In defending his family and himself he killed one of them, and wounded the other, and next day was cast into prison, where he was kept foralmost two years—until his escape—without an opportunity to have his case heard. Meanwhile both his wife and child died of smallpox without being permitted to see him, and were buried without his knowledge. It was reported that after his incarceration his wife and child had moved into a hovel in town, and that when the coffin containing his child's body was borne past the jail on the shoulders of a native, en route to its last resting-place, by a most singular and unhappy coincidence he happened to be peering out through a small hole in the stone wall, and saw the procession. He is said to have remarked to another prisoner that some poor little one had been freed from the sorrows of life.
How any white man can survive two years' imprisonment in a Mexican jail is beyond human comprehension; in fact we were informed that it is not intended that one should. I heard it remarked that "if a prisoner has plenty of money it is worth while hearing his case, but if he is poor, what profit is there in trying him?" The judges and lawyers are not likely to go probing around the jails merely for the sake of satisfying their craving for the proper dispensation of justice. We were told by one of the oldest resident Americans that if in the defense of one's own life it becomes necessary here to take the life of another, the safest thing to do is to collect such arms, ammunition and moneyas may be immediately at hand and make straight through the country for the nearest boundary line, never submitting to detention until the ammunition is exhausted and life is entirely extinct. The filthiness and misery within the walls of a Mexican jail exceed the powers of human tongue to describe, and tardy justice in seeking a man out in one of these Plutonic holes is generally scheduled to arrive a day too late.
With the exception of wood-ticks, the crop that thrives best of all in this part of Mexico, all the year round, is grass. There are two notable varieties; one is known as the South American Paral grass, and the other as Guinea grass. Both are exceedingly hardy and grow to great height. The Paral grass does not make seed in Mexico, but is generated from the green plant by taking small wisps of a dozen or more pieces, doubling them two or three times, after which they are pressed into holes made in the ground with a sharp stick, much after the manner of planting corn, and in rows about the same distance apart. Three or four inches of the wisp is allowed to protrude above the ground. It is generally planted thus in the latter part of May,—though at this season the ground is very dry,—because when the rains begin everybody is so busy planting and caring for the corn-crop that everything else is dropped. As soon as seasonable weather begins the grass sproutsand sends out shoots along the ground in every direction, much like a strawberry-vine. From each joint the roots extend into the ground, and a shoot springs up. By the early fall the ground is completely covered, and by the first of January it is ready to pasture lightly. The growth is so thick and rapid that it smothers the weeds and even many of the sprouts that spring up from the stubs and stumps. I saw a small patch of this grass that had been planted early in April when the ground was so dry that it was impossible to make openings more than two or three inches deep with the sharp-pointed sticks, as the holes would fill up with the dry loose earth. This patch was planted by a native who wished to test the hardiness of the grass, and with little expectation that it would survive the scorching sun of April, May and a part of June, until rain came. It was in May that I examined this patch, and pulling up several wisps I did not find a single spear that had sprouted or appeared to have a particle of life or moisture in it. But when the rainy season commenced every hill of it sprouted and grew luxuriantly. During the rainy season in the fall it will readily take root when chopped into short pieces and scattered broadcast on the ground.
The Guinea grass is almost as hardy as the Paral, but is planted only from the seed. It grows in great clusters, often to a height of six feet, and soon covers the ground. These twograsses seem to draw a great deal of moisture from the air, and stand the dry season almost as well as the brush and trees. The cattle fatten very quickly on them and never require any grain. Beef-cattle are always in good demand at high prices, and there is no other industry so profitable here as cattle-raising.
The deadly tarantula is as common here as crickets are in the United States, but to my astonishment the natives have no fear of them, and I never heard of anyone being bitten by one of these, perhaps the most venomous of all insects. They abound in the pastures and live in holes which they dig, two to four inches in the ground. One can always tell when the tarantula is at home, for the hole is then covered with a web, while if he is out there is no web over the hole. I have dug them out by hundreds, and one forenoon I dug out and killed seventy-two, often finding two huge monsters together. They sometimes bite the cattle when feeding, and the bite is usually fatal. Their deadly enemy is the wasp (Pompilus formosus) by which they are attacked and stung to death if they venture out into the open roadway or other bare ground.
The most deadly reptile is the four-nosed snake; it usually measures from four to six feet in length and from 2½ to four inches in diameter at the largest part, with sixteen great fangs, eight above and eight below. They have theferocity of a bulldog and the venom of the Egyptian asp. The natives fear them next to the evil spirit. The most remarkable feat of human courage that I ever witnessed was a battle between an Indian workman and one of these snakes. In company with a number of other workmen the Indian was chopping brush on my place around a clearing that was being burned, and the snake sprang at him from a clump of bushes as he approached it. The Indian struck at the snake with his machete, at the same time jumping aside. The snake, narrowly missing his mark, landed four or five feet beyond. Immediately forming in a coil he lunged back at the Indian, catching his bare leg just below the knee, and fastening his fangs into the flesh like a dog. The Indian made a quick pass with his machete and severed the snake's body about four inches from the head, leaving the head still clinging to his leg. He stuck the point of the machete down through the snake's mouth, and twisting it around pried the jaws apart, when the head dropped to the ground. Four of the workmen and myself stood within fifty feet of the scene, all petrified with amazement. The Indian realizing that his doom was sealed stood for a moment in silent contemplation, then walked directly to where the fire was burning and picking up a burning stick he applied the red-hot embers on the end to the affected part, holding it tightly against his legand turning it over and over until the flesh was seared to the bone. After completing the operation he fell in a dead faint. He was carried to the house and revived. His grit and courage saved his life, and in less than three weeks he was at work again. I offered a bounty of one dollar apiece for every snake of this variety killed on my ranch, and the natives would form hunting-parties and look for them on Sundays and rainy days. They were brought in in such numbers that I began to think the whole place was infested with them, when presently I discovered that they were killing and bringing them from all the surrounding country. They were so cunning that they would bring a snake and hide it somewhere on the place, then coming to the house they would announce that they were going snake-hunting, and in fifteen or twenty minutes would march in triumphantly dragging the snake, usually by a string of green bark.
There is in Mexico a small tree calledpalo de leche(milk tree) which produces a milk so poisonous that the evaporation will sometimes poison a person at a distance of several feet. The smallest infinitesimal part coming in contact with the mucous membrane of the eye will produce almost instant blindness, accompanied by the most excruciating pain. The only antidote known to the natives is to grind up peppers of the most powerful strength—as strong as thoseof which tabasco sauce is made—and pour the liquid into the affected eye. I saw this distressing operation performed twice while in Mexico. The natives naturally dread to encounter these trees when clearing.
There is an abundance of scorpions in Mexico. They are to be found under rocks and logs, and particularly throughout the house. One morning I found four snugly housed in one of my shoes. After putting my foot into the shoe the instinctive promptness with which I removed it from my foot reminded me of the army-ant episode when the boatmen so hastily removed their shirts. In putting on my shoes after that I learned to "shake well before using."
Among the nuisances in Mexico the fleas take their place in the first rank. They appear to thrive in every locality and under all conditions. Like vicious bulldogs, they are especially fond of strangers, and never lose an opportunity of showing their domestic hospitality. In connection with the flea family there is a very small black variety, the name of which in Spanish is pronounced nēwaw. They usually attack the feet, especially of the natives—for they wear no shoes—and burrow in under the skin around the toenails or at the bottom of the foot, and remaining there they deposit a great number of eggs which are surrounded by a thin tissue similar to that which covers a ball of spider eggs. The presence of this troublesome insectis not noticeable until the eggs begin to enlarge, when there is an irritating itching sensation followed by pain and swelling. The skin has to be punctured and the sack of eggs removed,—not a pleasant operation, especially when there are forty or fifty at one time. These insects thrive at all seasons, and, next to the omnipresent wood-tick, are one of the worst torments extant. I have frequently seen natives whose feet were so swollen and sore that they could scarcely walk. At recurrent seasons there is a fly that deposits a diminutive egg underneath the skin of human beings by means of a needlelike organ, and the larva of which produces an extremely disagreeable sensation, sometimes followed by fever.
This does not by any means exhaust the list of disagreeable insects and reptiles, but enough are mentioned to give the reader some idea of the bodily torments to which both the inhabitants and the visitor are constantly subjected.
Having obtained a fair idea of the existing conditions we may now return to our friend Mr. B., and then wend our journey homeward. After the visit to the hacienda of the wealthy Spanish gentleman (who, by the way, brought most of his wealth from Spain), he was perhaps the least concerned of any man in Mexico as to whether vanilla, rubber, coffee or anything else could be profitably grown there. Like Dickenswith his Dora, he could see nothing but "Carmencita" everywhere, and no matter upon what line or topic the conversation turned it was sure to end in the thought of some new charm in the black-eyed beauty. She was not only a flower, but a whole garden of flowers, too beautiful and too delicate to subsist long in that vulgar soil. She longed for the life, excitement and companionship of the friends of her schooldays in America, compared with which the humdrum monotony of a Mexican hacienda seemed like exile. With ample means and social standing as an armor the conquest was therefore a predestined conclusion. The conquering knight returned home with me, but in less than seven weeks he was back again, though not by the way of the loitering route down thelaguna. In the following November he returned again to America, bringing with him the coveted treasure whom he installed in a beautiful home in America's greatest metropolis. The union of these two kindred souls was a happy event. Their home has since been blessed with the advent of two lovely girls and one boy. It is therefore no longer true that no American fortune-hunter has ever returned from the rural districts of southeastern Mexico richer than when he went there; for here is an instance where one of the most priceless of all gems was captured and borne triumphantly away from a land which appears to abound in nothing butpestilence and torment.
Verily may it be said that this part of Mexico whose people, possibilities, peculiarities, pestilences and pests I have briefly sketched in the foregoing pages, was made for Mexicans, and so far as I am personally concerned, they are everlastingly welcome to it.