Adventures of a Young Naturalist

"We might almost imagine we were in a hot-house full of rich-growing plants and golden-colored flowers," said Sumichrast to me.

"Yes," I replied; "but we must also imagine that we are looking at them through the lens of a microscope. What would a Parisian say if he saw this viznaga?"

The plant I was pointing to was at least six feet in height and three times that in circumference.

"When I was a shepherd," said l'Encuerado, "I led my goats into one of the plains where the viznagas grow. With my machete I made a cut into one side of the plant, and my goats immediately began to eat the pith with which it was filled. Gradually they hollowed out a hole large enough for two or three of them to enter at once, and this make-shift hut afforded me a first-rate shelter against the rays of the sun and the night breezes."

"Oh!" cried Lucien, with enthusiasm, "if we have to camp in these fields, we must have such a house."

I again examined the landscape round us. There was nothing whatever which betrayed the vicinity of man. Everywhere the cacti spread out their variously-shaped flowers, which were nearly all yellowish or pink. Above us was a fiery sky, in which nothing seemed to move but a few vultures; on the ground there were hundreds of lizards in constant motion.

The Indian led the way, followed by Lucien.

"A footpath!" the boy suddenly cried out.

"A mimosa!" exclaimed Sumichrast, whose great height towered over us all.

"A hut!" murmured l'Encuerado, stopping and holding his finger to his lips.

We looked at each other; then, bending our steps towards the spot pointed out by our companion, we each inspected the thatched roof, of which only the top was visible.

With a rapid glance at my weapons I advanced carefully, followed by Sumichrast. Lucien, l'Encuerado, and Gringalet brought up the rear.

We really felt some degree of emotion; the idea of seeing any human beings but ourselves quite made our hearts beat; for were we going to meet enemies or friends? This was the important question to be decided.

The path soon became wider; we were now scarcely two hundred paces from the hut, and we were astonished not to hear the barking of dogs, which generally prowl round an Indian's dwelling. Sumichrast, who was now in front, came back.

"This silence seems to me a bad omen," he said; "take care we don't fall into some ambuscade; I don't at all wish to be robbed, or, worse still, murdered."

Leaving the path to our left, we made our way among the cacti.

"Are we in a savage country?" asked Lucien.

"Possibly, and that is why we have to be so careful," I answered.

"Do you think any one will hurt us?"

"The mere sight of our weapons might inspire the Indians with a desire of obtaining them; in a spot where every one can do as he likes, there is nothing to prevent them stripping us and sending us away naked."

"They are not Christians, then?"

"Ah, Chanito, they ought to be," muttered the Indian.

And, taking off his load, we soon lost sight of him among the under-brush.

Under any other circumstances, Lucien's frightened look, when he saw us take so many precautions in approaching a human dwelling, would have amused; but, so far from doing so now, we listened anxiously for the least sound.

At last we heard l'Encuerado's loud and welcome "Hiou! hiou!" The hut was perfectly empty.

After an hour's rest, passed by the boy in rambling round it, I gave the word for starting again. The Indian took the lead, following the still visible traces of a footpath. The hut, hardly large enough to hold three persons, seemed more like a temporary shelter than a settled dwelling; l'Encuerado, who was a great authority in such matters, was of opinion that it was only an offshoot to a larger settlement. After a tolerably long walk, another footpath crossed the one we were following; on its surface we noticed prints of naked feet – even those of women and children. But although we carefully examined the horizon, nothing but the immense white uninterrupted plain bathed in sunshine greeted our vision.

This prospect somewhat damped our ardor. Ever since the morning, we had been walking on in the hopes of meeting with a human dwelling. We had scarcely eaten any thing, and hunger and thirst were added to the disappointment we had met with. Lucien proposed to hollow out a viznaga to sleep in – a project in which he was encouraged by l'Encuerado's telling him that we might have the luxury of a window, and could keep off wild beasts by filling up the entrance with thorny cierges. It may readily be understood how much the idea of bivouacking inside a plant pleased the fancy of our young companion; and perhaps we should have assisted in realizing his wish, if the barking of a dog had not attracted our attention; so we recommenced our march in better spirits. A rapid descent brought us near a number of tree-ferns, a change of vegetation which we looked upon as a good omen. L'Encuerado continued to follow the footpath, until he suddenly stopped on a gentle eminence, which overlooked a small green valley with a brook running through it. To my great joy I counted as many as six palm-leaf huts.

The sight refreshed us so marvellously, that we all descended with rapid, long strides. Every now and then either a cock crowing, a turkey gobbling, or a dog barking, came as music to our ears, and I can hardly describe what pleasant feelings these familiar noises produced. As we went on, the bushes on each side of the path screened our view of the huts. The neigh of a horse attracted our attention, and a man, mounted bare-backed, made his appearance about a hundred paces from us.

"Halt!" I cried to my companions.

With my gun hung to my cross-belt, and my hat in hand, I advanced alone towards the rider, who had suddenly reined in his steed.

"Ave Maria!" said I, going up to him.

"Her holy name be blessed!" answered the horseman, raising his cap, from which several locks of white hair escaped.

"Do you speak Spanish, venerable father?"

"Yes, a little."

"Are you the chief of the village?"

"What do you want?"

"We require water and a roof to shelter us."

"You are not alone, I see; from whom do you come?"

"We are nothing but travellers wandering through the forests to seek for plants and animals with healing properties."

"But you are armed?"

"Well, we have a child to protect, and the brutes of the forest are fierce."

"Are you speaking the truth?"

I then called Lucien, who doffed his hat to the old man and saluted him.

"Child, may God bless you!"

"Are we to consider ourselves your guests?"

"Yes, you are the guests of Coyotepec; come along with me."

Sumichrast and l'Encuerado also approached the horseman, who dismounted and then led the way. The latter conversed with the Indian in the Mistec tongue, an idiom which Lucien alone could understand, he having been taught it by l'Encuerado. From the way in which the old man scanned us, I imagined that l'Encuerado had represented us to him as white sorcerers of no ordinary skill.

Coyotepec – or "Stone Wolf" – might have been about seventy years of age. He was born in this ravine, to which he had given the name of the "Mountain's Mouth," though I am ignorant of the reason for the designation. He had been taken, when very young, by one of his uncles to Puebla, but he had soon left the city with the intention of rebuilding the paternal hut, and of knowing nothing of the world beyond his own domain. His six children were all married and lived near him, and the little colony numbered as many as thirty individuals. He was an Indian of the Tlascalan race, as robust and nimble as a man of forty, of middle height, with a brown skin. He wore a hat made of palm-tree straw, and was dressed in a white woollen jacket, fastened in round the waist like a blouse; cotton drawers, scarcely covering his knees, completed his costume.

"What is the nearest town to this?" asked Sumichrast.

"Puebla," was the answer.

"How far off is it?"

"About eight days' journey."

As the usual day's journey of the Indian is ten leagues a day, the distance must have been about eighty leagues.

The old man could not furnish us with any other geographical information; he had heard the names of Orizava and Tehuacan, but never having visited these towns, he knew nothing of the distance we were from them. For forty years, with the exception of the relations of his sons and daughters-in-law, who paid him a visit annually, we were the first persons who had disturbed his solitude. We availed ourselves of the trunk of a tree to cross the brook, when our guide soon stopped in front of a hut. Four naked children, the eldest of whom might have been ten years old, inspected us with comical curiosity. They had never before seen a white man, and although we were dreadfully bronzed, their surprise was very great. A young woman, whose clothing consisted of a piece of cloth folded round her hips, saluted us in broken Spanish, and bid us welcome. The old man introduced us to his eldest son, named Torribio, a man about forty years of age. His clothing was not quite so primitive as that of his father, but consisted of slashed trowsers ornamented with silver buttons, a cotton shirt, and a felt hat covered with varnished leather. The little colony employed themselves in collecting cochineal, which Torribio carried to Puebla for sale, and this fact accounted for his more civilized costume. At length the old man asked us to come into his hut, round which a large part of his family were assembling. He called his wife, who was a little old woman, dressed in a long cotton gown; then he addressed us, pointing to his children and grandchildren, and said:

"You are my guests; my house is at your disposal, and all my relatives are your servants."

CHAPTER XXI

BLACK SKINS AND WHITE SKINS. – WE HAVE TO TURN CARPENTERS. – L'ENCUERADO CHANTING AND PREACHING. – THE PALM-LEAVES. – VEGETABLE BUTTER TREE

The dwelling so generously put at our disposal was a large shed, divided into three rooms by bamboo partitions; mats, spread out on the ground, 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 pétates, 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.

As soon as Torribio entered his own plantation, he bent down a few twigs of the masorcas without dividing them from the stem.

"Why do you bend those poor plants like that? Won't they die?" cried Lucien.

"Yes; in the first place, because they are annuals, and our guide only hastened their death a few days; besides, the ears he cut are ripe, and will dry hanging to the stems which have nourished them. This method is as simple as it is expeditious, but could only be put into practice in countries where winter is nothing but a spring."

Behind the maize-field there was a hedge covered with long filaments of a golden-yellow color. These filaments, which were entirely devoid of leaves, grew all over the shrubs almost like a thick cloak.

"What is the name of this wonderful plant?" asked Lucien.

"It is the sacatlascale," answered Torribio.

"It is a sort of dodder," added Sumichrast, "a plant of the Convolvulus family. The European species is destroyed, because it twines round certain vegetables and chokes them. Here, however, the sacatlascale is allowed to grow, because some use has been found for it."

"What could be made of these stalks, which are so delicate that they break if I merely touch them?"

"They are first bruised, and then dried in the sun," replied Torribio. "When they want to dye a black or yellow hue, all they have to do is to boil the paste in iron, or mix it with alum."

While we were climbing the banks of the ravine, Lucien availed himself of such a good opportunity by smearing his hands all over with this bright yellow substance. When we reached a certain height, we lay down on the grass. With one glance we could take in the whole of this small oasis. The stream meandered along, shaded with green trees; here and there, among clumps of Bourbon palms, we could discern huts irregularly dotted about. I turned my eyes towards our host's threshold, and, through my glass, perceived l'Encuerado, who was still preaching. He had evidently left off chanting, for his hearers were seated round him on the ground.

Lucien took possession of the telescope, and I noticed that Torribio also seemed very anxious to try the instrument. I told the boy to lend it to him. Our guide, seeing trees brought so close to him, could not at first account for this optical effect. I then directed the glass so that he could see the group of Indians, and I never saw any human face manifest such complete surprise. The Indian, who appeared perfectly charmed, could not long maintain his gravity. Every time he succeeded in discovering a hut, he hardly gave himself time to look at it, but rolled on the ground bursting with laughter. Two or three times I put out my hand to take back the telescope, but Torribio hugged it to his breast, just like a child when any one attempts to take a plaything away. At last he consented to give it to me, and I felt really sorry that I had not another glass to offer him.