Adventures of a Young Naturalist
formed our beds, and the remainder of the furniture consisted of nothing
but two benches. L'Encuerado swept out one of the rooms, and, collecting
some dry palm-leaves, made us a softer resting-place than we had slept
on for the last twenty days. A troop of children--of both sexes, and
perfectly naked--formed a circle round us, and watched our movements
with surprise. I omitted to mention about half a dozen dogs, who were at
first perfectly furious at Gringalet's appearance, but afterwards
contented themselves with growling whenever the intruder came near.
When our baggage had been deposited in the shed, I went and sat down a
few paces from the hut, on a mound overlooking the brook. Sumichrast
soon joined me. Gradually the sun went down, while the children,
previously playing about, went to dip themselves in the beautifully
transparent water. I told Lucien, who was dying to imitate them, to
follow their example. He had hardly taken off his shirt, when the young
Indians, who had watched him undress with evident curiosity, burst out
laughing, and chattered together like so many young paroquets.
"Why do they laugh so when they look at me?" asked Lucien of
l'Encuerado.
"Of course, because of your white skin; what else should it be? They
have never seen a human being of that color before."
"They think it so very ridiculous?" interposed Sumichrast.
"Yes, rather," replied the Indian; "but you must not mind it, Chanito;
for, after all, it is not your fault."
We and the young Indians now laughed in concert; and this incident led
on to a long conversation between Sumichrast and me. L'Encuerado, who,
we had imagined, envied us our white skins, pitied us, in fact; as no
doubt he would himself have been pitied by Nubians, because he was only
copper-colored.
"Why," said Lucien, who came up to us just as the discussion began, "are
not all men the same color? What is the reason of it, M. Sumichrast?"
"It is owing to the influence of the sun, which more or less colors the
pigment of the skin."
"The pigment?"
"Yes; a brown matter which exists under the skin, and gives to it a
shade more or less dark."
"Then Europeans have no pigment?"
"Yes, they have, just like all other races of men; only this matter does
not affect the whole of their bodies. The brown spots which cover the
face and hands of some people are produced by the pigment making its way
through the epidermis."
"Then," replied Lucien, "negroes would become white if they lived in
Europe."
"No," I answered, smiling; "the sun shines in Europe as well as in
America, and however weak its action may be, it is sufficient to blacken
the pigment."
"But if they always lived in the shade?" cried l'Encuerado.
"It would have to be perfect darkness, a thing which it is quite
impossible to procure."
At this moment our host called us. On a rickety table, covered with a
small cotton cloth, a bowl of thin soup, with _tortilla_ and tomatoes,
was smoking, and we all did full justice to our fare. This dish was
followed by a fowl seasoned with pimento sauce and black beans fried in
fat; then some _camotes_ (_Convolvulus batatas_) displayed the bright
colors of their mealy interior, in the midst of a sirup with which
l'Encuerado and Lucien regaled themselves. A large bowl of coffee put
the finishing stroke to our satisfaction. Instead of bread, we ate some
freshly made maize-cakes. Never had any dinner appeared so delicious to
us as this, for we had begun to get rather tired of game, which had
formed our principal food since we left home.
When the meal was over, Lucien ran back to join the children, who,
seated on the bank of the stream, were plaiting palm-leaves together.
One of them was very successful in making a grasshopper, and the boys,
delighted with the praises of their guest, vied with one another in
their inventions. They presented him with a bull, a fowl, a basket, and
other articles, which were very curious, considering the material used
and the skill of workmanship exhibited.
Lucien, perfectly enchanted with these presents, and finding that our
admiration hardly equalled his own, turned to l'Encuerado, who
criticised the articles submitted to him with an artistic eye:
"Then you, too, know how to weave palm-leaves?"
"Yes, Chanito, I can make grasshoppers, horses, and even birds."
"Only fancy! and yet you have never made any for me!"
"You are mistaken in that; when you were quite a little child I filled
your cradle with them. But as they seem to amuse you, I will teach you
to weave them for yourself."
At dark the children disappeared, and our host came to wish us
good-night. I told him of the light we had caught a glimpse of the
evening before.
"It was Juan," he said.
"And who is Juan?"
"The eldest of my grandchildren. He is watching a flock of goats in the
plain which belong to us."
The voice of the old man woke me next morning, and I got up at the same
time as Sumichrast, who was still in a semi-torpid state from having
slept so well. Lucien and l'Encuerado, who had risen earlier, had
already explored the ravine, led by the youngest of the children; for
the elder ones worked, according to their several abilities, at
collecting wood or cultivating the fields.
Our first care was to unpack the insects and bird-skins we had
collected, and the whole colony now surrounded us and asked us
innumerable questions. To our great disappointment, we found we could
only retain the most remarkable of our "treasures." Hitherto, the
bird-skins had taken the place in the basket of the provisions we had
eaten; but, after making an inventory, I came to the conclusion that,
when our provisions were renewed, it would be perfectly impossible for
l'Encuerado to travel with such an increased load. So we were compelled
to reject many of the specimens, though not without regret. Suddenly the
idea struck me of questioning Coyotepec about his son's annual journey
to Puebla.
"He will start in fifteen days," answered the old man.
"Will he go alone?"
"No; he takes with him three of our biggest lads and six donkeys."
"And are the donkeys laden?"
"Yes; but the boys start without any burden."
In an hour's time (an Indian never decides any thing without much
consideration) I arranged with my host that he should transport to
Puebla two cases in which I could pack my valuables.
Such a piece of good luck made us feel quite jolly; for by this means we
were enabled to preserve the whole of our collections, instead of
throwing many of them away, as had often before happened.
We were now in want of cases, and Coyotepec had neither saw, hammer, nor
nails; but he gave me some rough boards, on which we all set to work.
L'Encuerado and Sumichrast smoothed the planks with the help of two
woodman's hatchets, while I cut pegs, all laboring without intermission
until the next evening. A little before sunset we had succeeded in
making two large and tolerably light boxes, a task which, without proper
tools, was more difficult than any one could suppose who had not
undertaken it.
Sunday, which was Whitsunday, found us quite amazed at our performance.
L'Encuerado had succeeded in weaving some mats to cover the cases, and
preserve their contents from the damp. About eleven o'clock our host's
family assembled in front of the hut; the women and young girls were
dressed in red or blue petticoats, with their shoulders covered with
embroidered cotton chemisettes: and the younger boys were clothed in a
sort of blouse without sleeves. The grandmother was the last to make her
appearance, and she had a necklace of very valuable pearls round her
neck. The women wore ornaments made of bits of rough coral, and their
fingers were loaded with silver rings.
"We always assemble together on Sunday at the hour for mass, to say our
prayers together," said Coyotepec to me, "and to thank God who covers
the trees with fruit, and preserves us in good health."
"We are Christians the same as you," I answered gravely.
Then every one knelt down, and the old man recited the Litanies and a
succession of Ave Marias. After this one of the young girls chanted a
canticle, assisted by the others, who joined in. The singer had scarcely
finished her hymn, when l'Encuerado, perfectly electrified, entreated
the audience not to move, and at once struck up one of his favorite
chants. He kept us at least half an hour in the burning sun, till, being
tired of kneeling, I made signs to him to leave off. But it was lost
labor, for my servant pretended not to perceive me, and only multiplied
his gestures and cries, repeating the same verse three times running.
"Amen!" at last I cried, in a loud voice, getting up.
Every one followed my example; so, being at last set at liberty, I went
away, while the Indians surrounded l'Encuerado to congratulate him.
I had not yet paid a visit to the ravine, which, situated as it was in
the midst of the _Terre-Froide_, yielded the same kind of productions as
the _Terre-Chaude_. I called Sumichrast and Lucien, and, under the
guidance of Torribio, the Indian who every year drove the donkeys to
Puebla, we ascended the course of the stream.
Our guide first led us to his hut, surrounded by Bourbon palms. This
beautiful tree, belonging to the palm family, has a strange and yet an
agreeable appearance. From its very summit long stalks shoot out, at the
end of which hangs a wide leaf, which is first folded, and afterwards
spreads out like a fan ornamented with points. The Indians cut up these
leaves to weave the mats, called _petates_, which form an article of
such extensive commerce in Mexico. They are also used for making
baskets, brooms, bellows, and many other household utensils.
Torribio's cabin consisted of but one room, and the fire-hearth was
placed outside under a small shed. This primitive abode contained
neither chairs, tables, nor benches. Sumichrast was full of admiration
at this simplicity, which I considered rather overdone; but my friend
compared the life of civilization, in which luxury has created so many
wants, with the lot of these men who can dispense with almost every
thing, and decidedly came to the conclusion that the latter are much the
happier.
On leaving the hut, I noticed to our left a magnificent avocado
pear-tree--_Persea gratissima_--the fruit of which yields a pulp called
"vegetable butter." The avocado pear, called by the Indians _ahuacate_,
is the same shape as a large pear, with interior of a light-green color
and of a buttery nature; its sweet flavor is delicious to every palate.
It is either eaten plain, or seasoned with salt, oil, and vinegar.
"The avocado pear-tree, I should think, has no relations among trees!"
said Lucien, smiling.
"Yes, certainly it has. It belongs to the Laurel family, and is the only
member of it which produces eatable fruit. Its connections, though,
occupy an important position in domestic economy. First, there is the
bay-tree--_Laurus nobilis_--the leaves of which are indispensable in
French cookery; while the berries furnish an oil used in medicine. Next
comes the _Laurus camphora_, from the leaves of which camphor is
extracted, the crystallized essence which evaporates so easily; then the
_Laurus cinnamomum_, the bark of which is called cinnamon; and, lastly,
sassafras, the aromatic wood which is said to be a powerful sudorific."
Our guide conducted us across a field of Indian corn or maize. Europe is
indebted to America for this valuable gramineous plant. The common bread
or _tortilla_ of this country, which is a kind of pancake, is made from
it. Before the maize is quite ripe, it is eaten boiled or parched; in
fact, generally throughout America, it is used instead of barley or oats
for feeding horses and cattle.