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 " SENOKITA ARISroCKA riCA.
 
 An American Girl 
 In Mexico 
 
 By Elizabeth VIsere McGary 
 
 With Illustrations 
 
 New York 
 
 1904
 
 Copyright, 1903, 
 
 by 
 
 ELIZABETH McGARY, 
 
 in the 
 
 United States 
 
 and 
 
 Great Britain. 
 
 Entered at Stationers' Hall, 
 
 London. 
 
 All Rights Reserved. 
 
 PubliKfifd, March, lOOU. 
 
 Aft American Girl in Mexico
 
 M 17 leu 
 
 TO MY FRIENDS, 
 
 THE MEXICANS AMONG WHOM I FOUND SUCH A 
 HAPPY HOME.
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 A Senorita Aristocratica Frontispiece 
 
 A Child of Nature 8 
 
 Monterey Between the Bishop's Palace and 
 
 Saddle Mountain i6 
 
 A Small Burden for a Peon 22 
 
 Taking a Sunbath Before Their Palm Hut . 32 
 
 The "Aqua Fresca" Man 42 
 
 Patiently Awaiting Customers 46 
 
 A Mexican Wedding Invitation 52 
 
 "Playing the Bear" 58 
 
 My Innocent Maid — Trinidad 72 
 
 Cathedral de San Fernando 78 
 
 Pedro with the Nina of Luz 82 
 
 Extracting the Favorite Pulque — the Curse 
 
 OF the Peon 84 
 
 "The Blind Lead the Blind" 90 
 
 A Hallway in the House of the Senora's 
 
 Brother 132 
 
 A Happy Home Circle 154
 
 AN AMERICAN GIRL IN MEXICO. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 To one who has never known the joy of 
 basking idly beneath the influence of Mex- 
 ico's soft sunshine^ description seems extrav- 
 agant. There is something inexpressibly 
 pleasing in every phase of that Edenic 
 climate. The moment I stepped from the 
 train early one morning at Monterey into 
 brighter snnshine than I had ever known 
 before and viewed the soft^ white heaps of 
 clouds on the surrounding red mountains, 
 I knew that an extravaganza on its charms 
 would be an impossibility. 
 
 The choice of transport to the hotels af- 
 ter leaving the stuffy little sleeper lay be-
 
 2 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 tAveen a quaint mule car and an old coach of 
 *tlie model of 1850. While we were debating 
 which we should take, the more progresf=5ive 
 itinerants rumbled away in every available 
 'coach, and, not much disappointed, we be- 
 took ourselves to the little yellow car, on 
 the platform of which sat the driver, lazily 
 reveling in one of the native shuck-wrapped 
 cigarettes. It was several minutes before 
 he aroused himself to the realization of his 
 responsibilities, when he took one last, lov- 
 ing puff at his "cigarro" — gave a shrill 
 whistle between his teeth — a characteristic 
 sound with them in driving — and lashed the 
 mules severely with his big black whip. 
 Away they clattered over the white stone 
 street, so fast that we found the fresh morn- 
 ing air rather chilling and drew our wraps 
 more closely about us. The car drivers, 
 wear long black cloaks, with hoods shaped 
 like those on golf capes, and these they pull 
 over their faces until only their black eyes 
 peep out. On all the sidewalks men and
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 3 
 
 women were crouched as if freezing, com- 
 pletely enveloped in crimson blankets. These 
 are drawn up over their heads until one 
 finds it difficult to distinguish a man from 
 a woman. 
 
 These blankets are among the essentials 
 of a wardrobe; a child hoards up his first 
 pennies toward the purchase of one of his 
 own, and seems thoroughly self-satisfied 
 when wrapped in its warm folds. The day 
 really never grows cold enough to require 
 such protection, but from their viewpoint 
 it is never too warm for a blanket to be a 
 comfort. On the warmest July day one can 
 see these animated red and purple blankets 
 on every street corner. 
 
 On a bright January morning, such as 
 that of our arrival, words are inade- 
 quate to express the picturesqueness of 
 a street scene. It is remarkable that in so 
 fchort a journey one can reach a land so 
 fascinatingly foreign as that upon which 
 we gazed that morning from our little side-
 
 4 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 tracked sleeper. The blanketed popula- 
 tion, the brown children, hairless dogs and 
 Spanish music were to us like a. scenic pro- 
 duction in some fine theatre, as we rattled 
 on behind the little mules, that every few 
 minutes received a sharp reminder of their 
 duty in the form of a sounding stroke from 
 the driver's whip, which he had just energy 
 enough to administer. 
 
 After what seemed to us a pleasantly 
 endless circuit up one stony street and down 
 another, we alighted at a quaint looking 
 hotel. A German clerk received us with 
 the most elaborate mixture of Clerman and 
 Spanish manners, and, as soon as Ave had 
 registered, proceeded to write our names on 
 a blackboard which hung in the entry, with 
 the number of the room opposite each name. 
 Then we went to breakfast. 
 
 Such a. time as we had! Not one of us 
 knew a word of Spanish, and not a waiter 
 knew our language; but as my purpose in 
 coming was to learn theirs, I became
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 5 
 
 spokesman for the party. When I bade fare- 
 well to my friends at home I laughingly 
 told them that I knew only one word of 
 Spanish — "cocliero" — which means coach- 
 man, and they told me that "a little learning 
 is a dangerous thing." Circumstances had 
 even denied me an exposition of this knowl- 
 edge by leaving us without a coach that 
 morning. By gesticulating and pointing at 
 what others were eating, and other 
 methods, more effective than elegant, we 
 finally had a breakfast before us. The least 
 said of that breakfast the better. I know 
 only that we would gladly have exchanged 
 the same, novelty thrown in, for one at 
 home. But we laughed more than we ate, 
 and we ate a good deal, too. My spirits fell 
 when I thought that in a few days I would 
 be left here alone, but I tried to put the 
 thought aside. The hall boy acts as boot- 
 black, porter, messenger and chambermaid. 
 He runs a free school for the dissemination 
 of Spanish to the ignorant guests. This he
 
 6 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 does ^^con mucho gusW if he can under- 
 stand the questions put to him in the almost 
 baby talk that Americans use in speaking to 
 a Mexican. 
 
 There was more laughter when we 
 went up to our rooms. Such a quaint place 
 as a Mexican hotel is built entirely of 
 stone, both floors and walls, upstairs and 
 down ! The rooms are in a circle around a 
 patio or court. This is brilliant with all 
 kinds of lovely flowers, and filled with their 
 fragrance. Pigeons plash in the cool waters 
 of a fountain in the centre all day long. 
 This patio makes a beautiful picture, with 
 the mild but radiant sunshine streaming 
 over it, lending a thousand prismatic colors 
 to the waters of the fountain. There is 
 such a sense of novelty in Mexico. Even 
 the clank, clank of shoes up the stone stairs 
 has a strange, new sound. The galleries are 
 filled with people lounging in big, rope rock- 
 ers, some chatting, others reading, but more 
 dozing lazily, even in the early morning.
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 7 
 
 Our rooms had double doors, one above the 
 other. The lower one, about four feet high, 
 could be locked and the other left open. 
 
 The furniture was unlike any I ever saw. 
 The use of single black iron bedsteads is 
 almost universal throughout the Republic 
 — an inconsistent evidence of their knowl- 
 edge of hygiene. My room was in black, 
 and had a big, hemp rug on the floor. After 
 a two hours' ^'siesta" we went down on the 
 plaza in front of the hotel, and sat in mute 
 admiration until the dinner hour. The plaza 
 is a large square, beautiful with flovv'ers and 
 palm-trees. There was every kind of flower, 
 even to magnolias in abundance, and foun- 
 tains played among the trees. Every shady 
 nook is fitted with a bench, and from t-:' 
 bandstand in the centre, almost hidden 
 amid the trees, the soft, sensuous music of 
 stringed instruments delights the idlers 
 there nearly every evening. Plaza Hidalgo^ 
 smaller than the favorite Zaragosa, is most 
 of the year aflame with crimson poppies,
 
 S An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 whose somnolent qualities under the influ- 
 ence of the sun produce a delicious languor 
 upon the loiterer there. 
 
 All classes of people gather on the plazas 
 in the evening. There are three walks laid 
 out. The one on the edge is for the people 
 of the higher class, and for all Americans; 
 the next for those of the middle class, and 
 on the inside walk throng the ''peons/' or 
 people of the lower classes. That they know 
 so well how to take their proper place was 
 a constant wonder to me; it is seldom that 
 one forgets, but if he does, and tries to 
 tread a walk too high, one of the little dried- 
 up looking policemen takes pleasure in 
 ejecting him. The men and women walk 
 in different directions unless married, when 
 they are permitted to stroll arm in arm. 
 "Stroll" seems hardly the correct word, as 
 they walk very rapidly, perhaps in order 
 that they may meet their friends of the 
 opposite sex oftener, and enjoy their little 
 greeting, "adiost." This word, translated,
 
 A CHILD OK NATURE.
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 9 
 
 means "To God," and was originally in- 
 tended as our word good-bj-e, but has come 
 to be the usual greeting among intimate 
 friends. 
 
 On the afternoon of our first day in Mex- 
 ico an important event occurred. A friend 
 of mine in the States had managed to secure 
 the promise of a boarding place for me in 
 the home of a one-time Governor, this 
 friend having long been on intimate terms 
 with the family; on this afternoon, accord- 
 ing to earlier arrangements, we went to 
 their home to meet them. We were to take 
 merenda, or five o'clock tea, with them, 
 and I was not to return until the day of 
 the departure of my companions. 
 
 When the carriage, after rumbling and 
 bouncing over stones as large as my head, 
 of which Calle de San Francisco is particu- 
 larly full, at last drew up before an im- 
 mense door, the cochero rapped loudly 
 with the brass knocker, and I sat wondering 
 whether I could live amid such strangeness,
 
 lO An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 until the patter of feet was heard, the iron 
 bar was drawn back and a brown face ap- 
 peared inside the massive doorway. The 
 boy led us into an old-fashioned parlor with 
 mirrors on every side. All houses there 
 have a superabundance of mirrors. They 
 rank next in importance to food, for the 
 Mexicans are a vain people. 
 
 Soon the Seiiora came in, a stately woman 
 dressed in black, with a lace mantilla over 
 her head. Extending her pretty hands, she 
 came to me, and stooping, kissed mine in 
 the most graceful manner, and said some- 
 thing I felt sure was pleasant because her 
 smile was, though I couldn't understand a 
 word. Fortunately a smile is the same the 
 world over. 
 
 Her two daughters followed her, dressed 
 in simple white, with white lace mantillas, 
 and when they were introduced, kissed my 
 hand, and I think said the same words of 
 greeting. Such deference was likely to be 
 disconcerting, and I was just congratulating
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 1 1 
 
 myself that I had not received it awkwardly, 
 when Seuor Carlos, the son, was presented. 
 He dropped on one knee, in true cavalier 
 style, and, taking both my hands in his, 
 gently pressed his lips to them. I was 
 almost overwhelmed. It seems that special 
 greeting was extended me because I was 
 to become a member of the household. I 
 had now met all the members of the fam- 
 ily, as the father had been dead some years. 
 I was relieved that there were no more, and 
 little thought then that before many months 
 had passed I would bow over the SeQora's 
 hand and touch my lips to it. Neverthe- 
 less, the adage about being in Eome and do- 
 ing as Rome does was carried out. 
 
 After the greetings were over, they all 
 laughed merrily at our position, for we were 
 unable to exchange even the most casual 
 remarks about the weather, and even if we 
 had been able to do this it would have been 
 rather foolish as the weather is always the 
 same.
 
 1 2 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 It was but a few minutes till the little, 
 brown domestic who had met us at the door 
 drew aside the portieres, and made an an- 
 nouncement that we guessed to be luncheon, 
 as the family beckoned us to rise. We were 
 ushered into a jmtio where, beneath an im- 
 mense orange tree covered with blossoms 
 and big golden oranges, was spread a snowy 
 table. Pigeons fluttered among the flow- 
 ers, cooing softly, and the picture could not 
 have been more complete. 
 
 The luncheon was simple. Enchiladas 
 formed the first course. Enchiladas are 
 much like tamales, except that they contain 
 Mexican cheese, and onions. These were 
 served with hot tortillas, which are very 
 thin, white corn cakes, made of boiled corn 
 ground as fine as flour, and bleached, and 
 are brought in every few minutes fresh from 
 the griddle just inside the kitchen door, 
 where the cook kneels in full view, patting 
 them out noisily. This patting of "tortillas'^ 
 is an odd sound, more like the severe chas-
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 13 
 
 tisement of a child with the hand than any- 
 thing else. Next came nut macaroons, and 
 chocolate with whipped cream, and when 
 the last sign of this had been removed, 
 wine and mangoes were served. Mangoes 
 are a delicious fruit, yellow and juicy — a 
 marked favorite, and ours were served in 
 blue, china plates with silver single-pronged 
 forks. I learned to like them so well that 
 when I became homesick I would go out 
 into the street and buy one, for it is almost 
 possible to forget all else in the trouble and 
 enjoyment of eating them. When the me- 
 renda was over they showed us through 
 the patio we then sat in, giving each 
 some orange blossoms and a huge or- 
 ange from the tree over the table. After 
 they had showTi us another patio back of 
 this one with trees and sleepy hens in it, 
 we left, helplessly trying to make them un- 
 derstand that we had had a pleasant visit, 
 and that I would be back on Thursday ; but 
 they would only shake their heads and say,
 
 14 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 ^'Bien, 'biefi." The Senora had patted me on 
 the cheek and said '^'Slmpatica" several 
 times, and, as I was sure she meant some- 
 thing nice (for a Spaniard never says any- 
 thing to one's face that isn't nice) I departed 
 in high spirits.
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 15 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 The next afternoon we took the car out to 
 the Bishop's Palace, a grand old historic 
 building, with its secret entrances and exits 
 and blood spattered walls, to which the 
 guide points with horror depicted on his 
 face, though on close examination the spots 
 look strangely like splotches of Ted paint. 
 The walls had thousands of names carved 
 on their dingy surfaces^ — names of people 
 from every land — some carved many, many 
 years ago. It is a long steep ascent from 
 the car line to the top of the hill, but 
 this climb is made on burros, which may be 
 hired at the foot of the mountain. The lit- 
 tle animals pick their way carefully among 
 the rocks and seem as faithful as humans.
 
 1 6 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 An ascent that a burro cannot climb must 
 partake of the perpendicular. Far to the left 
 of this hill can be seen nestling in the dis- 
 tant valley, the little hamlet of Santa Cata- 
 rina, and the beautiful Saddle Mountain, 
 considered the finest in Mexico. And there 
 are no mountains in the world grander than 
 theirs rising up majestically on every side. 
 Several miles to the right is the "bone- 
 yard," where there are thousands of skele- 
 tons. Burial lots may be leased for periods 
 of two years in which bodies are buried. 
 At the expiration of two years, unless the 
 lease be renewed, the skeleton is exhumed 
 and thrown into the bone-yard. Plenty of 
 people are too poor to stand the expense of 
 keeping their loved ones underground, and 
 the bone-yard does not lack for gruesome 
 blanched bones. 
 
 We saw some tourists do a daring deed. 
 They rode, or at least started to ride, down 
 the Bishop's Hill on their wheels. Losing 
 control, they were precipitated down the hill
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. ly 
 
 at a most remarkable speed. Strange to say, 
 they did not collide, teaching the base at 
 nearly the same time, they flew over the 
 handle-bars in such perfect unison that one 
 would almost have thought this acrobatic 
 ending a planned feature of the ride. Not 
 one of the rough riders seemed injured, al- 
 though my hair almost stood on end and my 
 mind went faster than the wheels — so fast 
 that I saw in imagination three funerals. 
 Speaking of funerals, reminds me of some 
 we saw. One was an elegant cortege headed 
 by a street car draped in black, drawn by 
 two black horses. This bore the coffin ; thus 
 is a man of wealth laid away. The less well- 
 to-do people set the coffin on a sort of cart 
 pulled by an unpretentious burro, which 
 transports it to the city of the dead. Some 
 are so poor that the relatives or friends have 
 to carry the coffin between them. I saw a 
 pathetic sight one day. A man had a tiny 
 coffin on his shoulder, and trudged along, 
 followed by a weeping woman and two chil-
 
 1 8 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 dren with wide open, wondering eyes. I 
 supposed this to be a broken family circle. 
 
 Thursday carae all too soon, and in the 
 evening I went with reluctant feet to my 
 new home. They met us in the most friendly 
 manner, the Senora patting my cheek and 
 saying that word simpatica again. I after- 
 ward learned that it has no exact English 
 equivalent. Literally translated it means 
 "thoroughly in sympathy with, by manners 
 and appearance." The wife oif an American 
 Consul in IMexico said that she had discov- 
 ered it to mean simply "all right." 
 
 Seating guests is a laborious if pleasant 
 ceremony. Visitor and host vie with each 
 other in politeness — extending their hands 
 deprecatingly — patting one another on the 
 shoulder and smiling winningly. The right- 
 hand end of the sofa, that most cherished 
 piece of furniture, is always reserved for 
 the guest of honor, as is the right side of 
 the seat of a carriage. The host always re- 
 signs his seat at the table to a guest.
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 19 
 
 Every one tried to look pleasant and un- 
 concerned, but when the cathedral clock 
 struck nine, my friends rose to go, for the 
 train left at ten. I bore up bravely until I 
 had said good-bye to the last one; then, 
 bursting into tears, I wailed : "Oh, take me 
 back home with you !" 
 
 They came back and talked a few minutes 
 longer, and actually considered my return- 
 ing with them until visions of my ignomini- 
 ous failure rose before me should I return 
 home after my long-founded determina- 
 tion to come and carry out my cherished 
 dream. I thought of the persuasion it had 
 taken to carry my point, so I said "No." 
 But when the carriage bore them away, I 
 sank down in an abandonment of grief, 
 which greatly distressed my sympathetic 
 new friends. "Pohrecita senorita solita'' 
 ("poor little girl all alone") the Seilora 
 would murmur prettily as she patted 
 my wet cheek, and the "pohrecita se- 
 norita soUta" nestled very willingly in
 
 20 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 the motherly arms, listening, uncon- 
 sciously comforted, to the endearing 
 words. They hovered over me caressingly, 
 even trying to dry my constantly refilling 
 eyes, until, finally, I had to laugh. Then 
 they took me to my room, where I was 
 greeted by the sight of my trunks. I was 
 deep in admiration of the old family por- 
 traits, rope-rockers, the stone floor with its 
 bright native rugs, and open iron-barred 
 windows with real June roses peeping mod- 
 estly in, when I heard the clock strike ten. 
 Then I faltered out ^'adios^' and crawled into 
 bed to bury my face in the pillow and sob 
 myself to sleep, for I knew my friends had 
 gone, that I was alone, "a stranger in a 
 strange land." I was seriously doubting 
 whether I cared much about learning Span- 
 ish after all, when I fell asleep to the far- 
 away strains of that plaintive song "La 
 Golondrina.'* 
 
 I was awakened next morning by hearing 
 a voice call: "Senorita, Senorita," at
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 21 
 
 my window, and, peeping out, saw the same 
 brown face that had greeted us upon out 
 arrival, only now it was brightened by a 
 smile of recognition and friendliness. 
 Soon there came a knock at the door. 
 A girl entered, who silently took me 
 by the hand, led me to the bathroom, filled 
 the tub from the deep well by the door and 
 brought my clothes. After my bath she 
 started to arrange my hair, but I insisted on 
 doing this myself, for I had never in my 
 life had a. maid. I marveled at the number 
 of servants I had already seen, but later 
 learned that the poor domestics are paid 
 almost nothing for their services, so that the 
 price a family in the States would pay a 
 cook would there keep almost a half dozen 
 servants. The cook of this household, a fat, 
 good-natured woman, who came at seven in 
 the morning and left at eleven at night, was 
 paid ten Mexican dollars monthly, which is 
 a little more than four of our money. She 
 prepared breakfast, served coffee at eleven
 
 22 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 o'clock, luncheon at one, a merenda at 
 five, and at eight dinner is served in courses. 
 Sieiior Carlos seldom came in until ten, 
 when she would prepare a fresh meal for 
 him. But a happier soul than Luz it would 
 be hard to find. The boy who answered the 
 bell was her son, a dwarfed creature of six- 
 teen, with a solemn face many years too 
 old for the little body. If one could have a 
 dollaf for every step Pedro took during the 
 day, pacing- back and forth with fortiUas, 
 that person would be rich indeed, yet he re- 
 ceived only two dollars and fifty cents a 
 month, Mexican money, for all that work. 
 When one sees these conditions — sees faith- 
 ful sewing girls work twelve hours a day 
 for twenty-five cents, Mexican money, and 
 only skilled hands receive more, eating 
 their dinner with the servants, and be- 
 ing in every way treated without considera- 
 tion, the heart is filled with pity. 
 
 In a household of affluence there is hardly 
 a limit to the number of servants. At least
 
 A SMAIJ- BURDEN FOR A PEON.
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 23 
 
 in a pretentious home may always be found 
 a portero (doorkeeper), cochcro (coach- 
 man), recmnerera (chambermaid), lavmi- 
 dera (laundress), planchaclora (ironing 
 woman), cahalletmngo (hostler), mozo 
 (cheerful runner of all errands), cocinera 
 (cook), molendera (woman Avho grinds 
 corn ) , and, most pompous of all, the lucayo, 
 or footman. Families leading a more mod- 
 est existence endure the hardships of having 
 but five or six servants. A lady never sum- 
 mons her help except by slapping the hands 
 quickly together; this method is also used 
 in the streets for calling an inferior. Serv- 
 ants call their mistress Nina, which means 
 baby or child. It is pathetic to hear them, 
 when rebuked, remonstrate gently, "'piies 
 nina" (but baby). In beckoning, a Mex- 
 can turns the palm of his hand outward — 
 the exact reverse of our motion. 
 
 The peons subsist entirely on the clammy 
 cold tortillas and the native boiled frijole 
 beans, enough of which can be bought for
 
 24 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 a few pennies to feed a family all day. No 
 housekeeper furnishes her servants any 
 other food than this. Perhaps this is the 
 reason that Pedro, who carried tortillas, 
 answered the bell, aroused the household 
 and announced meals, presented what 
 seemed to me such an old, unsmiling face for 
 a child. 
 
 I shall never forget one detail of that first 
 breakfast. Seiior Carlos bowed low, and 
 pinned a spray of oranc^e blossoms on me, 
 and the girls laughed, when T, not realizing 
 its inappropriateness, said ^'adios.-' Their 
 mother shook her head at them covertly, and, 
 patting me on the cheek, called me ''Bijita 
 Americana '' which means "little American 
 daughter." They had expressed themselves 
 to our mutual friend as eager to learn Eng- 
 lish, assigning this as their reason for re- 
 ceiving me into their home, for they are a 
 people strangely averse to admitting outsid- 
 ers to their households. I foresaw that they 
 would learn no English, and i\\vj never even
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 25 
 
 made an attempt after Senor Carlos' first 
 and last effort. He walked up to me one 
 day, and with a sweeping bow, said in Eng- 
 lish: "Senorita, to-day a full bite. Go?" I 
 should not have understood enough to laugh 
 if I had not already been reading about the 
 big bull-fight. When he realized that he 
 had made a mistake, he laughed too, but 
 never attempted another sentence in Eng- 
 lish. SeSor Carlos never for a moment for- 
 got his elegant manners and bows. He was 
 always as attentive as on that first morning 
 at breakfast, when everything seemed so 
 strange and new to me. Senora asked if I 
 wanted leche de ccibra or leclie de vaca, 
 which means goat's milk or cow's milk, but 
 as I couldn't understand, she had me taste 
 a little of each. One almost took mv breath 
 away with its strong and peculiar flavor. 
 This I hastily rejected, and wondered how 
 the family could prefer it I never learned 
 to drink leclie de cobra. 
 
 In the primitive kitchen of every house-
 
 26 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 hold can be seen a metute, a ponderous 
 kitchen essential, that is cut from gray 
 stone, and is hollowed out like a shallow pan. 
 The boiled corn for making tortillas and 
 tamales is crushed in this. 
 
 Of course, the cooking was unlike Amer- 
 ican cooking. The eggs were made into lit- 
 tle highly peppered pats, and the steak was 
 so flavored with herbs that I could hardly 
 force it down. Bread, butter and coffee were 
 the only things that seemed natural, and 
 the butter may have been made from goat's 
 milk. My first dinner impressed me even 
 more, so much so that I made out a menu 
 card and sent it home by the next mail. 
 
 First, they had consomme, as they called 
 it, though unlike any consomme I had ever 
 eaten. The value of this dish Avas not en- 
 hanced in my eyes when they chopped ba- 
 nanas into it. Then came the funniest jum- 
 ble of a dish which they call "cosida/' It 
 was brought in on a big platter, and, as 
 nearly as I could guess, was a concoction of
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 27 
 
 boiled Irish potatoes chopped in small 
 squares, beets, carrots, small pieces of meat, 
 bits of roasting ear, cauliflower and peaches ! 
 I tried to look pleased as I ate it, but I seri- 
 ously doubt if I did. 'Tis needless to say the 
 flavor was unusual. Then the plates were re- 
 moved and roast beef served, every conceiva- 
 ble cranny of it filled with raisins — raisins 
 to right of it, raisins to left of it — and they 
 ate this with such evident enjoyment, pick- 
 ing out the raisins carefully on the ends of 
 their forks, that it reminded me of little 
 "Jack Horner" and his plum. I am fond 
 of roast beef, and of raisins, but I confess 
 I prefer them separate. 
 
 Next came a salad, which was delicious. 
 It was made of cold sliced tongue, chopped 
 olives, celery and lettuce, with mayonnaise 
 dressing. Then w^e had boiled roasting 
 ears and aguacates — something which is 
 a cross between a fruit and a nut, \\ith flesh 
 that is about the consistency of butter that 
 has been on ice, but so impressed was I with
 
 28 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 their resemblance in color to cuticura oint- 
 ment that I never learned to eat them. 
 
 After this we had cheese and macaroni, 
 liberally sprinkled with red pepper. The 
 inevitable '^frijole" beans followed this 
 course. 
 
 They are served three times a day. This 
 dish is to a Mexican what baked beans are to 
 a Bostonian. These are first boiled ten- 
 der, then poured into a stew pan of smok- 
 ing lard ; when they have absorbed as much 
 of the grease as possible, they are served. 
 
 Fancy the effect this dish would have on 
 the digestion three times a day for three 
 hundred and sixty-five days, or a whole 
 lifetime, I suppose, as I never saw a meal 
 without them. 
 
 The next course was a mixture, half ba- 
 nanas, and half boiled sweet potatoes with 
 whipped cream. Then came nuts and 
 several kinds of wine. 
 
 Closing my eyes I can see that table be- 
 fore me now. The little boy trotting back
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 29 
 
 and forth with hot tortillas, which if you 
 don't eat will be a stack of ten or twelve by 
 the end of the meal; the pigeons flutter- 
 ing and cooing about us, and the soft chat- 
 ter of that musical language, then so 
 strange and unintelligible to me.
 
 30 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Mexico is well named "the land of the 
 manana.^' No matter what a person wants 
 it is promised manafia, which means "to- 
 morrow." If the laundry is sent it is in- 
 variably with the assurance that it will be 
 brought back inananci — and usually many 
 mananas pass before it is brought back. 
 Sefiora decided to have a new well dug, as 
 the old one had been in use a hundred and 
 forty years since the house was built for a 
 bride long years in her grave. She sent for 
 the well-digger, and when she asked him 
 how long before he could have it ready, his 
 prompt reply was manafta. 
 
 Another set expression is quien sdbc and 
 means "who knows?" This, with a Frenchy
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 31 
 
 little shrug of the shoulders, is the response 
 to most questions put to peons, who, not 
 caring to take the trouble of informing 
 themselves on most subjects find this the 
 easiest way to reply. It is told that an 
 American who did not know the meaning 
 of these two very useful phrases had heard 
 manuna frequently. One morning when 
 out for a drive he asked the coachman a 
 number of questions, chiefly concerning 
 some business houses they were passing. 
 The answer each time was, "Qiiicii scibcf' 
 Presently a funeral procession passed and 
 he asked "Whose funeral?'' "Qiden, sahe^' 
 was the answer. "Thank heavens that old 
 fellow is dead," he said. "I only wish old 
 ^manana' would follow him." 
 
 ^'Vuclvo en uii momentito" (I return in 
 one moment), the Mexican says, extending 
 his hand with thumb and forefinger almost 
 touching, to express how small a time "wn 
 momentito" is. 
 
 With all their shrugs and gesticulations
 
 32 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 the French cannot express half what the 
 Mexicans do by their peculiar gestures. 
 With mouth drawn down at the corners, 
 •head to one side, hand extended on the 
 other side, palm upward, they stamp the 
 individual under consideration undeniably 
 ^'^no hucno." A tightly clenched fist and 
 squinted eyes convey the idea that he is 
 "muy apretadiy" (very stingy) ; a little 
 clawing motion says plainly "He is a 
 thief." Mexicans would be helpless with- 
 out the expression ''^no es costumhre^' (it is 
 not the custom). 
 
 ^'No cs costiinihre/' a lady will tell you 
 disdainfully, if you diverge a fraction from 
 their most trivial social law — more binding 
 than those of the Medes and Persians. 
 
 ^^No es costutnhrc" is hurled at you by the 
 meekest cook if instructed to pick up a pin 
 aside from the duties designated when she 
 was hired. 
 
 One day on the plaza I saw an American, 
 in a spirit of fun, hand a little bootblack a
 
 TAKING A SLX BATH BF.K()KK JHEIK I'ALM HUT.
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 33 
 
 hi?]:, awkward penny instead of the dainty 
 silver five-cent piece due him. The big 
 eyes filled with tears before he could enter 
 protest with the inevitable ^'No es costiim- 
 hre, ^enor, no es costumbre a pager menos 
 que cinco centavos — luia ccntavo nunca, 
 Senor; no es costumbre.''^ (It is not the 
 custom to pay less than five cents — one 
 cent never, Mister ; it is not the custom. ) 
 
 These waifs are as precocious and amus- 
 ing as our little Americans in the same sta- 
 tion of life. There was one who never 
 passed me on the plaza without smiling 
 winningly and saying, "Shine, Mister?" in 
 faultless, bootblack English. 
 
 They have a way of calling a girl or boy 
 who is the victim of an unrequited love a 
 calahasa, which means "pumpkin." Also 
 a person showing jealousy is a calahasa. 
 
 Old maids go by the euphonious title of 
 solteras, and young men are gallinos 
 (young roosters). The dude, habitu^ of 
 street corners in every land, is there called
 
 34 An American Girl In Mexico. 
 
 "■lagartijo'' (lizard), because he basks so 
 lazily in the sunshine. But how much less 
 disagreeable to be called a lagartijo than a 
 dude. 
 
 The girls wash their hair every other day 
 in summer, and go into town with it stream- 
 ing damp, down their backs like mermaids. 
 I asked Concepcion one day if she was not 
 ashamed to do this. "Ashamed?" she 
 asked. "Why should I be ashamed? Every 
 one knows I have to wash my hair." 
 It may be a consequence of the frequent 
 washing or the good airing, but they usually 
 have lovely hair. 
 
 On entering a store a Mexican girl shakes 
 hands with every clerk, and if they have 
 been there only two minutes they shake 
 again on leaving. These shopping excur- 
 sions are usually quite pleasant '^visifas/^ 
 The girls take their seats and chat freely 
 for some time before their little hands reach 
 over the counter for "adios'' ; yet under no 
 circumstances would a girl from a repre-
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 35 
 
 sentative family bow to a clerk on the 
 plazas. Why they are at liberty to chat so 
 openly in the stores together I do not know, 
 unless for practice in conversation. 
 
 Shopping is a delight in Mexico. There 
 is a certain amount of pleasure to be derived 
 from such expeditions in the most remote 
 village. What though you can't find every- 
 thing! There are dainty, lovely ^"tiras hor- 
 daclcs'' (embroideries) and "tercio j}clo'' 
 (velvet) in every shop, and clerks so glad to 
 haul down endless stacks of things, smiling 
 and flattering you delightfully all the while. 
 The silks and laces from France are a joy 
 to the heart feminine, in their snowy 
 masses and intricate beautiful weaves. 
 Such cobweb patterns are not to be found 
 on this side of the Rio Grande. The stores 
 keep a. very limited supply of shoes {'^'zapa- 
 tos") in larger sizes, for their feet are char- 
 acteristically tiny, and a clerk will try un- 
 hesitatingly to crowd a number four foot 
 into a number two shoe, assuring you it will
 
 36 An American Girl in Mexico 
 
 soon stretch, and be too large, and seem 
 surprised if they cannot convince you. I 
 spent hours shopping for my ^^zajmiosr for, 
 unfortunately, I did not number among 
 those who could wear a Mexican size, and 
 there is nothing Chinese about my idea as 
 to how a shoe should fit. 
 
 Their millinery is lovely, but no one less 
 wealthy than a Rothschild would fail to 
 frown at the fabulous prices they ask for 
 the dainty, perishable creations they offer. 
 ^'Florcs, fores/' but the nominal figure at 
 which flowers can be bought in the streets 
 has nothing to do with the ridiculously high 
 prices of the ^'florcs" in a millinery estab- 
 lishment. Hats are a novelty to them yet. 
 It has been such a little time since they 
 knew no headwear but the graceful man- 
 tilla. 
 
 One day when the ways and the language 
 of the Mexicans was very, very new to me, 
 I went into La Predilecta (The Favorite) 
 to buy a hat. I was full of confidence, and
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 37 
 
 it never occurred to me that every necessary 
 word was not at my command. But I was 
 helpless when I tried to ask for a winter 
 hat. Where was that word for "winter"? 
 
 "Sombrero?" (hat) I asked, timidly. 
 
 "Si, si," ("yes, yes"), the obsequious 
 clerk answered, and before I had time to 
 remonstrate, pulled down box after box of 
 summer hats. 
 
 "No, no," I objected, "otros sombreros" 
 (other hats). Then he pulled down still 
 more of the gay, beflowered ones. I looked 
 helplessly from side to side for some aid in 
 my dilemma. Pointing to a piece of wool 
 goods I asked : 
 
 "Que es esta?" (what is this?) "Lano" 
 (wool), was the answer. "Sombrero lano?" 
 ( wool hat ) I asked. The clerk tried to hide 
 his mirthful face by stooping under the 
 counter a moment. When he raised himself 
 up he shook his head slowly. "Este?" 
 (This?) I asked, pointing to a piece of silk. 
 "Sedo" (silk), he answered, promptly.
 
 38 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 "Sombrero sedo?" I asked, still more hesi- 
 tatingly. Again he darted down under the 
 counter, this time for a much longer stay, 
 and the smile was not all gone when he 
 emerged this time. "Sombrero por el frio?" 
 (hat for the cold), I asked, desperately, but 
 he only laughed more and declared that they 
 had no cold there, so I went home and con- 
 tinued to wear my summer hat. As the sea- 
 sons are not marked they wear summer 
 and winter hats interchangeably. 
 
 A clerk bolts over the counter in leap- 
 frog fashion if there is anything in the 
 show cases you wish to see. At the end of 
 a visit he will often give a regalo to the 
 customer, which is not often anything more 
 valuable than a cheap little fan, or, perhaps, 
 a bunch of tangled baby ribbon ; but they be- 
 stow it as if it were a string of pearls. Their 
 stores are all named ; also their cantinas 
 or saloons. One I saw was called 
 "The Triumph of the Devil." A drug 
 store bore the name "The Gate to
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 39 
 
 Heaven." No girl takes a position as 
 clerk in Mexico, Even the people at the 
 telephone stations are men. I learned that 
 "anilW means ring ; so when I tried to call 
 for 600-2 rings, I said 'T>00 dos aniUasJ' At 
 my repeated call the central grew annoyed 
 and hung up the receiveir. I afterward 
 learned that anilla means only a ring for the 
 finger, and llamada means the ring of a 
 telephone. 
 
 The way things were delivered always 
 struck me as so ridiculous, A man would 
 come down the narrow little street with a 
 basket on his back, and Luz would hail him 
 and run out to buy her vegetables for the 
 day. Frequently I have seen her purchase 
 one potato, or a half tomato, and the man 
 seemed to think it all right; ever^^body did, 
 but it would always occur to me how ridicu- 
 lous an American would seem buying half 
 a tomato. Even wood they buy by the 
 armload, and I have seen a man stagger- 
 ing under the weight of a sideboard or iron
 
 40 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 bed, for they have no moving vans. They 
 even bring trunks from the station on their 
 backs. My mirth knew no bounds when 
 one day a man came leading a goat through 
 the front hall and out to the kitchen, 
 "Quantof he asked, and Luz replied, ^'■Diez 
 centavosJ' When he had milked a measure 
 full she paid her dime, and he led his goat 
 on to the next house. 
 
 A housekeeper trusts her cook to do all 
 the buying for the kitchen. It is beneath 
 a lady of quality to be seen marketing, so 
 the cook is every day furnished with small 
 change for this, and I really doubt if their 
 wages are so meagre after all, for the poor 
 are not exceedingly scrupulous. It is easier 
 to obtain forgiveness than tortillas. 
 
 No supplies are kept on hand. Pedro 
 would have to run down tO' the corner to 
 buy a cornijcopia of lard or fiour before 
 each meal. No housekeeper is so reckless 
 as to keep even these staples on hand, with 
 so many nimble fingers about. One of Luz'
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 41 
 
 most eloquent memories was her trip to San 
 Antonio, Texas, where she spent one sum- 
 mer cooking in a hospital at twelve dollars 
 a month. She never tired of telling about 
 it, and her eyes would grow big at the re- 
 membrance, when she would clasp her fat 
 brown hands and say ^'Muclio dinero por 
 Lu:; — miicho dinero." (Much money for 
 Luz.) 
 
 She was called home from this Elysian 
 field by an invalid husband, who had be- 
 come so ill that, one day she announced 
 to the Senora that she must stay at home 
 with him until he died; adding that he 
 didn't seem to be going to die soon either. 
 
 The first day of her absence there was 
 consternation in the household, for a cook 
 couldn't be found. At luncheon hour I of- 
 fered, in my best Spanish, to help. Not one 
 of them knew a thing about cooking, and I 
 smiled to myself, thinking how they would 
 enjoy my broiled steak, for back in sensible 
 Texas I had attended a practical cooking
 
 42 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 school that was held in my mother's kitchen 
 every day. I made delicious milk toast, 
 creamed some potatoes, and cooked 
 squashes. They thought the word squash, 
 which it was impossible for them to 
 pronounce, as funny as I found '^ropa viejo^' 
 (old clothes), a name they give to a sort of 
 meat pie, a very popular dish, made from 
 scraps of cold meat and smothered in 
 herbs. They thought my skill quite wonder- 
 ful, particularly the Senora, who had mar- 
 ried at thirteen, and had as little culinary 
 knowledge now as then. But they could 
 not enjoy steak cooked without herbs. The 
 Senora, determined not to wound my feel- 
 ings, took a liberal piece, and, cutting it in 
 bits, poured vinegar over it. And I had ex- 
 pected those poor starved creatures to fall 
 on my delicately broiled steak like hungry 
 wolves. 
 
 At dinner time a new cook, innocent of 
 the benefits of a comb and a bath, took
 
 Jill-; " .\\>V.\ FKKSCA ' MAN.
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 43 
 
 charge; but we were glad indeed when Luz 
 returned in a few days. She came one 
 morning to get four dollars to go into 
 mourning, for her husband had at last died ; 
 her usually round face looked long as she 
 told us of the event. That evening she re- 
 turned, dressed in a cheap black print which 
 she had bought already made, on the market, 
 and Pedro had a piece of cheap crepe on his 
 hat. In less than a week I heard the old 
 loud happy laugh of Luz, and going out in 
 astonishment, found her teasing Josef, the 
 yardman, telling him that he would be the 
 new husband of Luz. 
 
 The day of her husband's death she had 
 much regretted that she was too poor to 
 have funeral notices, but this was now for- 
 gotten. Their funeral notices are almost as 
 large as a small newspaper, as are their 
 wedding invitations, which are engraved on 
 a large double sheet of ragged edged linen 
 paper. On the inside, to the left, the 
 groom's family requests your presence; on
 
 44 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 the right, the bride's family extend their 
 invitation. 
 
 On New Year's day they send out engrav- 
 ed cards wishing their friends a happy and 
 prosperous year ; a family always mails an- 
 nouncement cards at the birth of a child. 
 When it is a month old friends call and scat- 
 ter confetti over the baby's cradle. Confetti 
 is bright bits of paper in sacks. I never 
 learned the significance of this custom. 
 
 Ladies embrace on meeting and kiss on 
 either cheek. Men embrace and pat each 
 other on the back affectionately. 
 
 Certain amusements appeal forcibly to 
 the Mexicans. A circus may with impunity 
 camp in a town for weeks, sure that the tent 
 will be crowded every night. However, the 
 circuses there are superior to anything we 
 have in Los Estados IJnidos. The great Or- 
 rin circus is always a drawing card. 
 Everybody goes. Fathers do not use their 
 children for excuses, as Americans do, but 
 go eagerly night after night. With as much
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 45 
 
 time as polish they can thus spend hours 
 very agreeably. Stores are always closed 
 fully two hours for dinner, and, half dozing 
 through the sleepy afternoon the affable 
 clerks are most indifferent to sales. Above 
 all else the theatres there have one inimita- 
 ble charm — the graceful serpentine play of 
 a shawl in the hands of some dark-eyed Se- 
 iiorita — her silken rehozo woven in shades 
 seldom seen save in a brilliant sunset — a 
 beautiful careless mingling of hues that har- 
 monize in their very dissimilarity. 
 
 There is a quaint little dance called 
 ^'Danza de sombrero/' among '^'^los pobres" 
 that is most alluring. The sombrero or hat 
 is placed on the floor, and a girl and boy 
 dance around it, in and out — darting near — 
 gliding away — their supple bodies swaying 
 as if by a breeze, as they snap their fingers 
 close to the sombrero and smile charmingly, 
 tauntingly at each other. 'Tis a beautiful, 
 typical dance, without any seeming signifi- 
 cance — the girl in her short bright skirt,
 
 46 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 buckled slippers, and bare brown arms — the 
 boy in blouse, long trousers, and brilliant 
 sash. 
 
 What a place of interest a Mexican mar- 
 ket is ! I went down often and elbowed my 
 way through its throngs. One always sees 
 lots of Americans there shopping, with 
 big market baskets hung independently on 
 their arms. Such a conglomeration of toys 
 — beautiful pottery that costs almost noth- 
 ing — kitchen utensils, household things, 
 clothes, trinkets — candy made of goat milk 
 and sugar, hats, canes and every imaginable 
 and unimaginable article — a heterogeneous 
 collection of the useful and useless. The 
 air is intoxicatingly sweet with the per- 
 fume of flowers and fruits. For a few cen- 
 tavos a small boy can gorge to the utmost 
 limit. All the lower class wear sandals, and 
 they gather in hordes to bargain for these. 
 Trousers are sold here all the way from 
 seventy-five cents to seventy-five dollars per 
 pair. The lower class or peons, wear such
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 47 
 
 odd looking trousers — bright-hued, and as 
 tight as a new kid glove, a size smaller than 
 usual. These they fasten up the sides witli 
 colored laces. Of course the upper class 
 buy their wearing apparel from the 
 shops, patronizing the markets only for 
 edibles. Little piles of potatoes, pot- 
 tery, hay, English peas and various other 
 things obstruct the way — and the venders, 
 sitting patiently beside them with babies ga- 
 lore tumbling over them and scattering the 
 wares, pull at your skirts as you pass and 
 beg you to buy. The first price is always 
 startling, but they will often drop to a tenth 
 of the original. It is amusing to hear 
 them fall and fall in price and at last, with 
 a coaxing toss of the head, inquire what you 
 will give, sometimes even running after you 
 for a block urging you to buy, and laughing 
 good naturedly if 3'ou do not. 
 
 A temptation I could never resist was to 
 stroll from stall to stall conversing with the 
 keepers. They are so simple, they would
 
 48 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 tell of their joys and sorrows, their babies 
 and their ambitions, which were interesting, 
 if no loftier than to own a burro, for the 
 study of human nature is always interest- 
 ing. One old, wrinkled woman always sat 
 with her rooster under her arm, unless he 
 were fighting; she became one of my stanch- 
 est friends. She did not hesitate to tell me 
 that she stole the rooster, "he was such a 
 good fighter," was her excuse, and then she 
 was "muy pobre" She would hold the little 
 game fowl up proudly each time for my in- 
 spection, as if it had been a baby, instead of 
 a little game gallo. 
 
 A girl had a stall where she sold only lit- 
 tle red and blue pig banks, and remembered 
 me always with such a bright smile, that I 
 almost became bankrupt buying her little 
 pigs. There are few of my friends in the 
 United States who have not a pig bank. 
 Still another vender always slipped a packet 
 of cigarettes into my basket, and refused
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 49 
 
 pay. A few friendly speeches and smiles 
 had won these lowly admirers. 
 
 Small-pox is a great bugbear among 
 Americans as a draw-back to Mexico, but 
 there is really slight danger from this dis- 
 ease. It rages among the slums ; their dirty 
 hovels and unhygienic mode of existence in- 
 vite disease, but the death rate from small- 
 pox and other maladies is not great among 
 cleanly people. The peons seem to have little 
 dread of it and I think regard the pits it 
 leaves as rather ornamental. FIrequently 
 on the street cars one sees a person all brok- 
 en out, and here lies tlie danger. Becoming 
 familiar with the symptoms of the disease a 
 person can avoid contact with one of these 
 victims, and need feel no distress of mind 
 thereafter. Another strange thing that fre- 
 quently takes place on the street cars. A 
 man will take out his cigarette case, and 
 turning toward the ladies on the car offers 
 every one a cigarette, particularly if there 
 are any American ladies present.
 
 50 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 Often I have passed a woman with her 
 whole nut brown family lined up on the 
 banks of a little stream — unclothed — while 
 she did the weekly or yearly washing. 
 
 One day I yielded to the entreaties of the 
 family and went to a bull fight. I shall 
 never quite forgive myself for doing so, 
 though I did not then realize how horrible a. 
 Mexican bull fight can be. I am not 
 ashamed that before it was over I came so 
 near fainting they had to sprinkle me with 
 lemonade, the only available liquid, and 
 take me home. I cannot understand how a 
 human being can sit through it, though I 
 stayed long enough to see six bulls and nine 
 Meeding blindfolded horses tortured to 
 death. A magnificent bull comes charging 
 in, infuriated by the stinging arrow he re- 
 ceived as he passed under the entrance arch. 
 He vents his fury upon the first object he 
 spies, and when one knows that this is a 
 poor blindfolded horse, a fraction of the 
 cruelty can be realized. The rider pierces
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 51 
 
 tlie bull's neck with numberless sharp ar- 
 rows, and as the horse falls, makes his es- 
 cape amid the triumphant yells of the im- 
 mense audience. Sometimes even the little 
 rider meets his death and becomes a hero 
 in the eyes of all present — but a dead hero. 
 
 It is all a kind of indistinct horror to me. 
 And yet, when I told Senor Carlos that it 
 was more cowardice than bravery that en- 
 abled one to sit through it, he laughed and 
 called me *'Pohrecita'^ (poor little girl,) and 
 said it was not half so cruel as prize fight- 
 ing, which was between human beings. 
 
 "Ah, it is grand when you learn to under- 
 stand it," he said. And a person to hear 
 their shouts of exultation would imagine 
 something of the grandeur of the Passion 
 Play was being presented.
 
 52 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A "swell" wedding took place just before 
 Lent, and I was invited with the family. It 
 was the marriage of a beautiful girl, typi- 
 cally Spanish, and we went early that none 
 of the spectacle might be lost. It was a long 
 and impressive ceremony, and the cathedral 
 was like a flower garden. I blushed for 
 shame at the conduct of some American 
 tourists, who, having gained access to the 
 church, had possessed themselves of some of 
 the best pews, and when the bridal party 
 entered, the bride with bowed head walking 
 slowly to the font of holy water, her glim- 
 mering satin train trailing after her, these 
 Americans deliberately stood up in their 
 seats, and the snap, snap of their obtrusive 
 kodaks broke the sacred silence.
 
 V 
 
 H
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 53 
 
 Next to the Briton in egotism comes the 
 American, and because they consider them- 
 selve essentially pace setters and privileged 
 beings, they disregard many of the customs 
 that Mexicans hold inviolate — customs that 
 we might recognize without detracting from 
 our self-respect or convenience. Fre- 
 quently troubles arise from this cause that 
 require diplomatic intervention. 
 
 After crossing herself and kneeling for a 
 blessing, the stately bride walked the length 
 of the cathedral alone on one side, under the 
 arches of ferns and lilies, and the groom on 
 the other. Meeting at the altar they knelt 
 on satin pillows, — the organ burst forth in 
 soft music, and when the priest had blessed 
 them, he pinned a piece of white ribbon 
 on her shoulder, and crossed it over to 
 her fiance, thus uniting them; at the same 
 time drawing a fold of her gauzy veil 
 about the bridegroom. A lengthy ceremony 
 in Latin followed, to the accompaniment of 
 music. The ribbon was unpinned, a prayer
 
 54 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 offered, and the happy pair marched out to 
 the strains of Mendelssohn's Wedding 
 March, — out and down the long stone walk 
 and rolled away in one of the gay carriages 
 to which were harnessed milk white horses 
 with white ribbon reins and beflowered 
 bridles. 
 
 The first point is always the photog- 
 rapher's studio, where pictures are made of 
 them in some adoring attitude. All wed- 
 dings take place in the early morning, 
 and a bride is never married in any- 
 thing but white. The day is spent in gay- 
 ety, the night in a grand ball, and, the next 
 morning, after the civil ceremony has con- 
 summated the marriage, they leave — leave, 
 to learn whether or not they love each other. 
 Alas, that so often it should be a rude 
 awakening — a falling short of expectations, 
 for neither knows a tiling of the other's 
 thoughts and ways. What if in the harsh 
 morning light the wife has lost the halo of 
 enchantment that hung over the face be-
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 55 
 
 hind the iron-barred window. Ah, then 'tis 
 the same old story, and yet they will not be- 
 lieve there is any system of love-making 
 better than theirs that to us seems so un- 
 real and so like child's play, but to them is 
 as sacred as their religion. And yet before 
 marriage one does not see among them the 
 inconstancy that we find among matter-of- 
 fact Americans. 
 
 A girl has one lover, nor dares to smile 
 on another. Not more than one man pays 
 court to a girl at once. In her little heart 
 she is as true as steel. To Rosita, dark, de- 
 mure Rosita of our household, had come a 
 note of strange music — had struck a shaft of 
 rosy light, but 'twas over now, its only 
 footprint being an added wistfulness to the 
 big eyes — for some whispered words against 
 her lover had changed her dreams, and now 
 her evenings are often dreary. 'Tis a land 
 of dreams, and why not, when one can sit 
 in the soft sunlight and float away in fancy 
 upon the depth on depth of blue above.
 
 56 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 One Spaniard told me he spent a year in 
 Detroit, where he made many American 
 friends, but never grew accustomed to the 
 "abominable liberty" of our girls. 
 
 "It may not be the custom where your 
 home is, Seuorita," he told me, "but I have 
 seen girls there from the very best families 
 go out to the theatres with a young man 
 alone, not a member of her family with 
 her!" I assured him that I had seen such 
 things myself. 
 
 "To us this robs them of all their charm," 
 he said. "I was so happy to return to 
 Aguas Calientes, and once more see my 
 sweetheart's face in the window, like an an- 
 gel's." His face softened at the recollec- 
 tion. Reaching in his pocket he drew a 
 daintily penned letter out and handing it to 
 me, said : "From my dulce carazon — I got 
 it to-day." 
 
 Some one has said that people who do not 
 know Spanish are unable to express but 
 half their love, and truly there is a caress in
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 57 
 
 every word of that soft language. I read 
 the adoring little letter to its close, where 
 she said: "The anr/clifas'' send their love. 
 
 "Who are the angelitasf I asked in won- 
 der, 
 
 "Her little ones," he answered. 
 
 "But you^you are not married?" I 
 asked. 
 
 "No, no, but she is married to a man she 
 doesn't love — she loves me — she has loved 
 me two years," and his handsome face 
 showed no sign of shame nor confusion at 
 the confession. 
 
 It is really a tedious matter to become 
 married in Mexico, with the several cere- 
 monies. One interesting feature is that the 
 bridegroom furnishes the trousseau. It 
 seems hardly fair, for the poor man has 
 enough of that ahead of him, and as the 
 father naturally supposes it is about the last 
 rifling his daughter can give his pocket, he 
 doesn't mind much, but the Mexicans think 
 differently, and think it well to prepare the
 
 58 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 husband. He sends a cheek for whatever 
 amount he feels able to give, and she is in 
 honor bound not to use her father's money. 
 It must be rather an embarrassing matter 
 for the bridegroom to decide just how much 
 to send. I knew one girl, a member of a 
 wealthy family, who married a poor man, 
 and when the check came it was a question 
 how slie would be able to get her clothes 
 with the amount. I really fear that I 
 should have been tempted to let my father 
 add a little, but she bought an inexpensive 
 wedding dress and simple outfit, thus prov- 
 ing herself very sweet and womanly. 
 
 Not infrequently daughters and sons will 
 remain after marriage under the parental 
 roof rather than endure the anguish of 
 breaking these ties; if a son establishes a 
 home of his own no day is ever too short to 
 admit of his making a little visita to his 
 mother. The trenchant sword of jealousy 
 strikes at a mother's heart when she feels 
 that the new daughter is supplanting her
 
 I'l.AVlNt; THK UKAR.
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 59 
 
 in the son's affections. A wife in Mexico is 
 supposed — however young she assumes such 
 responsibilities — to have as good judgment 
 as her husband, and is never subjected to 
 the humiliation of begging a pittance daily 
 for her household needs. A woman of caste 
 there could not be self-sustaining and self- 
 respecting. When a man marries he cheer- 
 fully accepts the support of a widowed 
 mother or sister, never considering their 
 accomplishments that might be turned to 
 account. 
 
 While on the subject of marriages I must 
 tell all about their courtships, for that of 
 Miles Standish was no stranger. I feel par- 
 ticularly well versed on this subject, as I 
 had a love affair of my own, if such it may 
 be called. One day I noticed whispering 
 among the Seiiora and the girls, and, as it 
 seemed such a good natured whispering, I 
 begged to know what it was about. Final- 
 ly dear Seiiora said "Let's tell her," so they 
 consented, and on account of my limited
 
 6o An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 knowledge of the language it took all three 
 to explain that Seiior Don Eduardo was in 
 love with me, and it would have taken three 
 more to make me believe it. 
 
 "Who is Seuor Don Eduardo?" I asked, 
 "and how do you know that he is in love 
 with me?" They told me he was the dark 
 young man we had noticed passing and re- 
 passing the house every day. 
 
 "If a young man passes a house several 
 times a day he's in love with some one in 
 it," they said. 
 
 "But why not with one of you?" I en- 
 quired, looking admiringly into their faces, 
 for both were unusually pretty girls, though 
 I believe I loved Concepcion a little the bet- 
 ter. 
 
 "Oh, no," they protested, "we have been 
 here all our lives and have always known 
 Seiior Don Eduardo, and he has never done 
 this before." They were unwilling to have 
 their romance spoiled. So they told me to 
 walk up and down before the window when
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 6i 
 
 he came, but on no account speak to him. 
 This I obediently did, morning and evening, 
 and Seiior Don Eduardo would smile on me 
 most adoringly. There was such novelty in 
 the experience that I played my part quite 
 eommendably — at any rate, after three 
 weeks the girls declared they had a sec- 
 rcto. I wheedled them until they told me 
 that the Senor was going to send the band 
 to serenade me at midnight, and if I ap- 
 plauded the music it would be an indication 
 that I accepted his suit. It was really 
 unfair to him for me to be told, they said, 
 for I should have been awakened by the 
 strains of music, but I eased their con- 
 sciences by advising them that if they had 
 not told me I would more than likely have 
 slept throughout the serenade. 
 
 At the first stroke of twelve the baud be- 
 gan, just under the window, plaj^ing "To 
 Thee" — a beautiful love song — then, "La- 
 grimas de Amor' ("Tears of Love,") and 
 others equally tender and pleading; at the
 
 62 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 close I applauded. I could see Seiior Don 
 Eduardo listening, hat in hand, in the dis- 
 tant moonlight. To me the whole thing 
 was a little drama that I had thoughtlessly 
 gone into. Even my applause was almost 
 innocent. For several mornings and even- 
 ings after this he paraded before my win- 
 dow, whispering such extravagant terms of 
 endearments as "Angelita'' ^'Dwina'^ and 
 " Primer osa,'^ until it is a wonder I didn't 
 lose my head, and become, Spanish-like, a 
 devotee to the mirror. 
 
 Then one day there came a noisy rap at the 
 door, and Senor Don Eduardo's card was 
 brought in. When I peeped through the 
 bars I saw his silver mounted victoria in 
 waiting, with his monogram emblazoned on 
 the side. The girls were almost speechless 
 with delight. They regarded themselves in 
 the happy light of matchmakers, and flut- 
 tered about me making suggestions and try- 
 ing to rush me off to array myself in my gay- 
 est attire, Rosita in her excitement even
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 63 
 
 pulling out her favorite of my dresses — a 
 pink flowered silk, and trying to hurry me 
 into it. They told me that this would be an 
 announcement of my acceptance of Senor 
 Don Eduardo, when people saw me driving 
 in his victoria about the Alameda. Then I 
 declined to go further. If I felt any hesita- 
 tion in going alone, their mother or his 
 mother could go with me, they persisted. 
 His mother had called, and I found her a 
 peculiar, undemonstrative woman, though 
 she had invited me to her home, and seemed 
 desirous of making a good impression. But 
 I was not going for a drive in Eduardo's 
 carriage, because matters had now assumed 
 a more serious aspect than I liked. 
 
 So ended my affair with Seiior Don 
 Eduardo — ^at least the pleasant side of it, 
 for he acted very ugly indeed after this. He 
 would stand with a leer on his dark face as I 
 passed, and even dared on several occasions 
 to hiss at me — such a hateful hiss that it 
 could never be confounded with the tender
 
 64 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 '" Angelita" or '^Divinar of a few weeks be- 
 fore. Seiior Don Eduardo's pride had sus- 
 tained a blow. He told Seiior Carlos that 
 his intention had been to marry the "Ameri- 
 can Senorita" in four months if she had not 
 turned out a ''coquetta.'^ When Carlos re- 
 peated that accusation his voice had an an- 
 gry ring, and he seemed much surprised that 
 I could laugh, I didn't know then that to 
 be called a ''coquetta" in Mexico is much 
 more offensive than in our country. A very 
 handsome man at a ball one evening was 
 promptly refused a dance by Rosita. When 
 at home a few hours later I asked her why 
 this was, she told me he had two sisters who 
 were coqnettas, and this being the case, 
 why should he be accepted in ''sociedadf 
 
 One night, as I sat in the window dream- 
 ing of home, something was dropped into my 
 lap through the bars, and looking up quick- 
 ly I saw Seiior Don Eduardo disappearing 
 down the silent street. I picked up his 
 rcgalo. It was a long gray card, and in
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 65 
 
 the upper left-hand corner was a tiny Ameri- 
 can flag, with streamers of the blessed na- 
 tional red, white and blue. A girlish figure, 
 tall and lithe, occupied the space, a typical 
 American girl dressed in a walking skirt, 
 shirt waist and heavy shoes; attire that is 
 hateful to every Mexican, for in their eyes 
 a woman is only half a woman when she lays 
 aside pretty feminine fripperies and fol- 
 lies. This girl wore no hat, had sunny 
 brown hair blowing about her face, and a 
 carefree laugh on her lips. On her breast, 
 in bold relief, was a tiny black heart. It 
 seemed a little incongruous that such a 
 pretty girl should have a black heart. In 
 one hand she carried a dagger with a crim- 
 son one on its point, and over one shoulder 
 was a string of hearts ; her path was strewn 
 with them, on which she ruthlessly trod, 
 her head tossed high, watching the one 
 on her dagger's point — the latest vic- 
 tim, I supposed. The whole was rather 
 startling; her trim blue skirt, white waist
 
 66 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 and crimson tie, truly patriotic, and 
 the crimson hearts about her for which 
 her laughing eyes showed no concern, and 
 the black, black heart on her breast. It 
 needed no word ^'coquetta" beneath it to 
 show its import. Perhaps I should be 
 ashamed, but I really prized it very much; 
 'twas most flattering, and certainly dis- 
 played artistic talent — which most Mexicans 
 have. 
 
 An American boy friend told me a joke on 
 himself. He became much enamored of the 
 face of a Seiiorita as he passed her window 
 daily and determined to revolutionize their 
 "slow" methods. So, one day, he boldly 
 pounder" with the brass knocker at her 
 front door, and was ushered into the parlor 
 and her presence. She blushed prettily, 
 and, bowing low, left the room. In a mo- 
 ment she returned with her father and 
 mother. For a few minutes conversation 
 lagged, then the mother took matters into 
 her own hands and asked him what his
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 67 
 
 intentions were regarding her daugliter. 
 He stammered out that he had none as 
 yet, and, as he expressed it, "picked him- 
 self up out of the street a little later, won- 
 dering how he got there." Never afterward 
 did he entertain any sentiment for a Mexi- 
 can Seiiorita, nor worry over their lack of 
 progressiveness. 
 
 A standing joke with Senor Carlos, who 
 was particularly dark, with languid black 
 eyes, was, that he was his mother's only 
 blond child, and therefore her favorite. In 
 their eyes, if a person's skin is fair, all other 
 defects are obliterated, for only the most 
 purely Castilian type escapes the dark olive 
 tint, and even these have a creamy pallor 
 to their complexion that is distinctly 
 foreign. They thought me dazzlingly fair, 
 though I had always lamented my brunette 
 coloring. I remember the first time I went 
 to a ball, when Trinidad had fastened the 
 last hook of my dainty white gown, she 
 clasped her hands with delight, and ran
 
 68 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 away to summon the family. They all went 
 into raptures over my "snowy" neck and 
 arms, which I had been powdering freely 
 to make whiter. Luz declared I was 
 a spirit, and, slipping up behind me, timidly 
 kissed my neck. Fair of face, fair of 
 lineage with them, for as the aristocrats are 
 many shades whiter than the "pconSy' a 
 fair complexion is, with them, an unfailing 
 evidence of blue blood. They really admire 
 Americans, though they feel a little jealousy 
 toward us for the way we are entering their 
 country and taking possession of their 
 rights. They pretend to dislike our lan- 
 guage, and one Spaniard told me there 
 was but one word of the Englisli language 
 that he liked, this he used often, the word 
 "indeed." 
 
 Though one may be willing to credit them 
 with an inimitably pretty language, he is 
 not willing to admit that there is but one 
 word in English to be admired.
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 69 
 
 CHAPTER, V. 
 
 Carlos told me of his love for Elisa, and 
 bis eyes glowed with tenderness as he talked. 
 He had once "played the bear," as Ameri- 
 cans have termed their parading before a 
 window, to a high class girl, but she was 
 too cold and unresponsive, he told me. 
 
 "How do you know this when you are 
 never allowed to talk to her?" I inquired. 
 
 "Oh, but her eyes were never full of love 
 like Elisa's are," he explained. 
 
 His romantic love for Elisa was a source 
 of great distress to his family, for the girl 
 was beneath them in caste, which is most 
 defined there. They called her a "torfil- 
 lera'' (tortilla maker), which, of course, 
 she was not, and his eyes would fill with
 
 JO An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 tears as he said ^^Pohrecita" He felt no 
 resentment, only pity for his poor little 
 girl that he thought he loved so well. His 
 sisters begged me to talk to him and try to 
 persuade him to go back to Anita, who 
 loved him yet, "for we will never receive 
 this Elisa — she cannot go in sociedad even 
 though she is the wife of Carlos," they de- 
 clared. 
 
 I asked him why he did not return to 
 Anita, for his family's sake, and her own. 
 He shook his head. 
 
 "I cannot be the lover of both Elisa and 
 Anita," he said, "and I cannot give Elisa 
 up. If they did not live on the same 
 
 street " and he finished with a gloomy 
 
 shake of his head. 
 
 "Oyas' hermoso!^"' (beautiful eyes), he 
 would murmur softly as he thought of Elisa, 
 a faraway look in his own. "They shall 
 accept her," he declared. "I will take her 
 on my arm, pohrceita, and I will walk 
 through that casino, and I will dance every
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 71 
 
 dance with her when she is my little wife, 
 and you think they will dare not to receive 
 the wife of Carlos?" 
 
 One morning I was in the family pew at 
 the Cathedral listening to the "choir invisi- 
 ble," when Seiior Carlos slipped in beside 
 me. I looked up in surprise, for he was 
 not religiously inclined. Often a candle 
 burned all day at home before one of the 
 statues of the Virgin Mary, for his sake; 
 his mother worried no little over her 
 son's indifference to the religion of his fore- 
 fathers; so my astonishment was natural. 
 Still more surprised was I when he began 
 to tell me how much he loved me. "Ttt- 
 tienes mticha mas intelUgencia y mas dig- 
 nidad que las luuchachas Mexicanas, to- 
 das de las fnuchacJias Americanas tienen." 
 ("Thou hast much more intellect and more 
 dignity than Mexican girls — all American 
 girls have.") 
 
 "Then," I said, "do you tell me this, Senor 
 Carlos, after I have heard you talk of Elisa
 
 72 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 so often? And in the cathedral ! I am dis- 
 appointed in you, miserably disappointed." 
 
 I laid my hand on his arm, and, looking 
 straight at him, said : "Let's forget you have 
 ever said this — that you have ever for a 
 moment been untrue to Elisa, whose heart 
 you have won. Continue to be my brother, 
 Carlos, and I shall be happy — poor little 
 Elisa!" Just a moment of surprise then 
 Seiior Carlos shook hands with me warmly 
 and said in his pretty tongue: 
 
 "I thank you, Seiiorita. I will be true to 
 my little girl. I thought I loved you, but I 
 am your brother, am I not ? And you — you 
 shall be my bridesmaid when I marry Elisa 
 — now that you know that I love her you 
 will not try to send me back to Anita, will 
 you?'' And with one of his radiant smiles 
 he was gone. Is it any wonder that they 
 are an anomaly as a race? Some harsh 
 critic described the country as "A land 
 whose flowers have no perfume — men no 
 honor and women no virtue." I think his
 
 MV ].NN'(>( KM MAID — IKIMDAD.
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 73 
 
 epitome entirely too severe, though, 'Tis 
 a country with many superior charms that 
 cannot but be felt by the mere tourist. 
 
 From that time on Seiior Carlos never for 
 a moment fancied any display of sentiment 
 due me, and never forgot the brotherly atti- 
 tude we had agreed upon. 
 
 The ^^ peons'" have a happier, freer time 
 than the aristocrats. They are decidedly 
 bohemian. It was one of my favorite pas- 
 times to sit on the sunshiny plaza, near a 
 hanca, on which sat a pair of plebeian lov- 
 ers, and hear their pretty love-making. I 
 felt no more compunction of conscience for 
 this than for listening near a confessional. 
 They always reminded me of a pair of mod- 
 est, happy doves; their love is as sweet as 
 their music. ^'Tu no me ainas" ( Thou dost 
 not love me) I would hear the probable Con- 
 chita murmur, and then his tender assur- 
 ance to the contrary. There they would sit 
 in happy oblivion of all about them, with no 
 thought but of the perfect present, no anx-
 
 74 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 let J over the proximity of tlie ^^Americmw/' 
 The higher class laugh merrily about the 
 plebeians and their love affairs, never real- 
 izing that they themselves are missing the 
 best of life, that "The light of the whole 
 world dies w^hen love is done," and love is 
 usually done there before it has hardly be- 
 gun. 
 
 My first ball I enjoyed supremely. We all 
 went, the Seuora and her three daughters, 
 for she insisted that I, too, was her daug'h- 
 ter. Carlos never went. He had quit at- 
 tending balls since Elisa had come into his 
 life, because he knew that she would not be 
 welcomed at the Casino, and he did not 
 care to go where he could not look into 
 those beloved dark eyes. On this occasion 
 I was the only American in the house. At 
 the midnight supper a gay bachelor arose, 
 and, bowing low, handed me a bouquet of La 
 France roses, saying in perfect English "Se- 
 Sorita, I love you. Seiiorita, you make me 
 tired." Undignified as it was to do so, I
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 75 
 
 shrieked with laughter, and tried to explain 
 his mistake to him. The i)oor fellow had 
 thought he was paj'ing me a great compli- 
 ment in chance English he had picked up. 
 Several toasts were drunk to the ''Ameri- 
 cano/' until I indeed felt that "It is better to 
 be an American than to be a King." This 
 though had been the uppermost feeling with 
 me since I came from my Texan home into 
 this strange land. 
 
 By the beginning of Lent I began to con- 
 sider myself fairly versatile in Spanish. 
 Residence in a. family that speaks nothing 
 but that language is the best way to learn it. 
 
 The Lenten season was one of absorbing 
 interest. The streets were thronged daily 
 with people going to and from church, and I 
 loved to slip into the great cool Cathedral 
 and take my seat close to a confessional 
 where I would listen to a recital of their 
 multifarious transgressions. One day Con- 
 cepcion came out of her room dressed all in 
 black — even her face draped, carrying a
 
 76 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 rosary, looking very sweet and demure, and 
 made the announcement that she was going 
 to confess her sins. 
 
 "What sins?" I asked, wondering what 
 that sweet dark-eyed girl had to confess. 
 
 "Oh, my many sins ; criticising my friends 
 and loving pretty clothes too well, and some- 
 times — sometimes speaking crossly to my 
 Mamacita/' and kissing Mamacita's hand 
 she was gone. This is a pet nume with 
 them for mamma. 
 
 There is one day of Lent that every per- 
 son must wear black. It looks strange to 
 see the hundreds of hurrying black figures 
 in the streets. I saw a mother with a little 
 child, a baby girl not more than two years 
 old, kneeling before the Virgin Mary in the 
 Cathedral, its little hands clasped, learn- 
 ing to lisp a prayer. I could no longer feel 
 surprised that the entire nation is Catholic, 
 when it is instilled into them from the 
 cradle to the grave. The week before East- 
 er is more full of interest than any other
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. "]*] 
 
 time. On the day before Easter Judas Is- 
 eariot is burned in ^^^^ on every street 
 corner and in every home that is able to pro- 
 vide one. He is made of papier mache 
 filled with explosives, and can be bought any 
 size at the market for less than thirty pieces 
 of silver. A particularly spiritual-minded 
 household will have a life-sized Judas. In 
 the streets the '^ peons" assemble with a huge 
 one that their carefully hoarded pennies 
 have purchased, and frequently they will 
 also have a Mrs. Judas, dressed gaily in pink 
 tissue paper. These they suspend high in the 
 air, touch them off and shriek with deri- 
 sion at their contortions. The reports all 
 day are deafening, and it seems to be a day 
 of supreme pleasure among all classes. The 
 family where I boarded were very quiet with 
 their Judas bonfire, and I saw nothing of 
 him, unless he was inside a long, peculiar 
 shaped parcel that I saw Seuor Carlos bring 
 in one day. 
 
 Mrs. Judas looks so pretty and innocent
 
 yS An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 in her fluffy attire that one dares to hope 
 she was not in the conspiracy at all. The 
 day before Easter, to add to the deafening 
 uproar and jubilee, the matraca is started. 
 It is a big wooden machine in the tower of 
 the Cathedral with a wheel inside which 
 grinds against the walls, and of all the 
 whirring, grating, unearthly sounds one 
 ever heard, this is the worst. All day long it 
 grinds till you are almost deafened by the 
 sound. This day no bells are rung, which 
 seems strange after the hundreds that have 
 been making the air musical for weeks. 
 
 A whole day I spent, going from Cathe- 
 dral to Cathedral, even to a tiny church on 
 the far outskirts of the city. The sights 
 were startling. Though similar at all the 
 churches, at the grand Cathedral the scene 
 was most harrowing. In the centre aisle 
 was a coffin in which lay a waxen figure of 
 Christ, the eye sockets empty and bloody, 
 the nail holes gaping in bleeding hands, and 
 an expression of the most exquisite suffer-
 
 CATHKDRAI. DK SAN FERNANDO.
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 79 
 
 ing on his face. Beside the bier stood the 
 Virgin Mary, clothed in black, a pale waxen 
 figure, with tears on the anguished face; a 
 person is filled with wonder as to how they 
 can make so painfully realistic the tears, 
 the suffering faces, and the bleeding body of 
 Christ There is literally weeping and 
 wailing and gnashing of teeth among the 
 distressed populace that looks on this scene 
 with morbid horror. So natural did it look 
 that I shuddered and turned away involun- 
 tarily, and thought what it must be to them, 
 steeped in ignorance and superstition, and 
 believing, heart and soul, in the good of 
 such a ceremony. They wring their hands 
 and cry aloud, a very Bedlam of sorrowing 
 voices in every church. Even the little chil- 
 dren were wailing with their parents. 
 
 Superstition reigns supreme in Mexico — 
 particularly among ^^los pohres" When 
 building a fire they make the sign of a cross 
 in front of the oven. In killing a chicken 
 they pull its head off and make the sign of
 
 8o An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 the cross on the ground with its neck, de- 
 claring that the chicken cannot jump from 
 that spot A child slow to talk is fed on 
 boiled swallows. Colored glass beads 
 ground fine are administered for paralysis. 
 Candles are always burned in times of ill- 
 ness or misfortune. The penchant for cere- 
 monious display is national. Gay flowers, 
 Chinese lanterns, flags and brightly attired 
 throngs, are in evidence on every great day. 
 Near every town of any size there is a 
 sacred mountain on the top of which is a 
 black cross. One who has been unusually 
 wicked, and possesses a sufficiently sensi- 
 tive conscience to direct it, climbs on bared 
 knees to the top of that mountain, begs for- 
 giveness at the foot of the cross, then de- 
 scends over the sharp stones to the base of 
 the mountain. The penitent is usually so 
 exhausted after the several days of phy- 
 sical and mental exertion and prolonged 
 fasting that ministering friends have to 
 assist him or her home. It is a
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 8i 
 
 pitiful, suffering religion, so full of hu- 
 manism. They often travel for miles to do 
 this penance, and though they lie in bed for 
 days afterward with lacerated knees, their 
 souls seem so spotless they feel repaid. One 
 day a poor mother with a perfect brood of 
 children came to beg from Seiiora; all the 
 children were dressed in tatters except one 
 little timid girl about three years old, who 
 wore a simple, clean white dress. I asked the 
 cause of so great a difference in their ap- 
 pearance, and was told that a priest had des- 
 ignated her to be the sanctified member of 
 her household; she must never be allowed 
 to wear anything but white. 
 
 This chosen child always receives the best 
 of everything, and is not allowed to play 
 like the other children, but set aside like 
 something holy. I think the little thing 
 must feel rather unhappy, and believe with 
 Mark Twain: "Be good and you will be 
 lonesome." 
 
 The children generally lead such a happy
 
 82 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 romping life, tumbling over the sidewalks 
 or riding a lialf dozen at a time on one 
 stubborn little burro. 
 
 The '^peon" family spends most of the 
 time in the streets, peddling any little 
 article they may have, or lounging lazily 
 about the plazas, while the children enjoy 
 life. They clamber on to the passing street- 
 car, (for which the driver gives them a sharp 
 cut with his TS'Tiip,) steal from the near-by 
 fruit-seller, and chase every wheel they see. 
 
 A bicycle is a source of unending curios- 
 ity to these people. I heard of a party of 
 Americans who were invited to a ball on a 
 hacienda or ranch. They sailed out inde- 
 pendently on their wheels, and a kindly dis- 
 posed serving woman took the name of each 
 one on a separate card as they entered — for 
 what reason they did not question. When 
 they started home, each found a card neatly 
 pinned on the back tire, the tire as flat as it 
 could well be. I think they decided to spend 
 the night on the ranch.
 
 PEDRO W nil 1 HE NINA OF l.UZ.
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 83 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 There was a dear little bright-eyed Mexi- 
 can baby living opposite us, whose nurse 
 brought it out on the sidewalk every after- 
 noon dressed in glaring pink. It would 
 laugh and coo when it spied me, and, greatly 
 flattered, I decided to go over and make 
 friends with little Miss Teresita. She im- 
 mediately held out her hands for me to take 
 her in my arms, which I did. To my dis- 
 may I perceived that her ears were not as 
 shell-like as they might be, and there was an 
 unmistakable necklace of dirt about her 
 little throat, so I hastily handed her back 
 to the nurse with a forced smile, and went 
 home. The Senora asked me why I stayed 
 no longer.
 
 84 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 "Because the baby was not clean," I 
 answered in my clearest Spanish. 
 
 "Oh, you are mistaken," the Seiiora as- 
 sured me. "I know her mother and she is 
 very careful with her baby. She bathes it 
 every week." 
 
 The "peon" class are positively feline in 
 their dread of water. It is a religious duty 
 to bathe on the twenty-fourth day of June, 
 and it is a well authenticated fact that this 
 is the only bath most of the poorer class 
 take during the year. 
 
 Firmly do the pohres believe that this 
 bath on el dia de San Juan Bautista brings 
 beauty to the maiden, vigor to the matron, 
 and freshness to the old maid. 
 
 One who has been among them does not 
 find this hard to believe. Josef, our yard 
 man, said to me that "Americans are like 
 fish; they love water." I asked him if he 
 were going down for a bath on the twenty- 
 fourth. "Oh, yes, I always do," he assured 
 me. We went to watch them, and while a
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 85 
 
 trifle embarrassing, it was a very amusing 
 spectacle. When the men filed into the river, 
 their wives, or some attentive female, would 
 proceed to wash their clothes and lay them 
 out to dry. The bath was necessarily a long 
 soaking one, waiting for the clothes. When 
 all the men had arrayed themselves in their 
 fresh linen and departed, the women put the 
 children in and then began to disrobe 
 
 But we left just then ! 
 
 Next day I asked Josef about his bath. 
 
 "I was sick, Seiiorita," he said mourn- 
 fully. "But I will bathe next June." 
 
 It never seemed to occur to Josef that a 
 bath on any other day would be as clean. 
 
 They peddle the oddest things in the 
 street. A glass of their native burning 
 pulque, so loved by all, aqua fresca 
 (fresh water), or dingy looking lemonade, 
 can be purchased on any corner, or even 
 boiled roasting ears and baked sweet pota- 
 toes. During Lent the business is thriving, 
 for the streets are full of people who make a
 
 86 An American Giri in Mexico. 
 
 dinner of a boiled roasting ear and feel 
 thankful to get it. Fruit of all kinds is 
 plentiful in every part of Mexico at all 
 times. Mangoes, zipotes, aguacates, or- 
 anges, bananas and others, with such long 
 names that I never learned to pronounce 
 them. Such delicious figs and grapes! One 
 would almost live there for them alone. It 
 is interesting to watch a "peon's'' way of 
 buying. He will go up to a fruit 
 stand, drop a centavo and, without a word, 
 take a mango or orange, though perhaps 
 the vender had expected to receive more for 
 the article. The "peon" sets his own price. 
 
 Little boys can be seen in the streets with 
 a string of steaks to deliver, which they do 
 not hesitate to use as a whip on the first 
 mongrel dog they meet, delighted at his 
 yelp of surprise. Later you get one of these 
 same steaks for supper. 
 
 The way the poor dress, or rather, 
 don't dress, is appalling. SucTi tatters as 
 the veriest ragamuffin in the States would
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 87 
 
 scorn, are to them princely attire; in fact, 
 some of them are so indifferent to their 
 needs from a standpoint of modesty — so 
 prDne to retnrn to the days of fig leaves — 
 that it is positively embarrassing. 
 
 These people will throng the churches at 
 Lent, and weep loudest of all, feeling no 
 hesitation in calling attention to them- 
 selves. Modesty in Mexico is a quality 
 conspicuous for its absence. My cheeks 
 often burned while listening to their con- 
 versation, and the Seiiora would shake her 
 head, saying, even to Seiior Carlos, "We 
 must not forgeti the Senorita; she has so 
 much false modesty, but she can't help it — 
 all Americans have." 
 
 On Easter eve Seiiora invited me to go 
 with them to church, and I, of course, ac- 
 cepted. They made me dress in black, and 
 put a lace mantilla on me to which I ob- 
 jected, because it seemed sacrilegious, and, 
 besides, made me look like a widow ; but they 
 made me keep it on, telling me that I must
 
 88 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 not wear a hat at that service. First we 
 went to a little chapel near their home. 
 Everything was confusion there. In the 
 aisle the body of Christ lay in state as else- 
 where, and all the people were weeping. 
 Some little girls in white passed a lighted 
 candle to each of us, and Concepcion giggled 
 under her mantilla, trying to pull me dowTi 
 on my knees. Even while the beads of her 
 rosary slipped through her fingers and her 
 lips moved in prayer, she was smiling 
 brightly up at me. 
 
 Soon she took my hand and led me out, 
 first stopping at the font to cross herself 
 and me with holy water. Then we pro- 
 ceeded to the Cathedral, and went through 
 a like ceremony. The figures of Christ and 
 the Virgin Mary looked more ghastly than 
 ever in the bright light there, and the grief 
 was accordingly more noisy. On the out- 
 side the Cathedral was a vision of glory. All 
 about the edges of the roof were burning 
 candles about three inches apart. In the
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 89 
 
 belfry the entire surface was studded with 
 them, until it looked like myriads of spark- 
 ling diamonds. From all the hotels people 
 assembled to gaze upon this beautiful pic- 
 ture. The next morning I was awakened by 
 glad bells on every side — all the bells in the 
 Cathedral tower were ringing at once, and 
 no one seemed to know how many there 
 were, all a different size, so that the sound 
 was a commingling of pretty tones. Every 
 bell in the city was ringing nearly all day, 
 with only brief pauses. 
 
 The Virgin Mary now wore robes of maz- 
 zarine blue. The mystic tears were gone, for 
 Christ was risen. He looked down lovingly 
 on his benighted followers with eyes that 
 were yesterday so harrowingly absent. The 
 scene was a glad one and every face beamed 
 with happiness. The choir boys sang joy- 
 ously as they scattered sweet incense, and 
 the priests in royal purple velvet robes 
 looked unusually well-fed. Nuns are not
 
 90 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 allowed in Mexico, but their priests are the 
 objects of great reverence. 
 
 Every household is appointed a pauper to 
 feed. A tottering old woman came to our 
 house every day for her dinner; this was 
 the only meal she had. When the girls 
 would hear her faltering step in the hall 
 they would call out a welcome to the ^^vie- 
 jita/' which means "little old one." 'Twas 
 so pathetic to see her go into the kitchen 
 and crouch down on the dirt floor to await 
 her food. Some days she would be too ill 
 to come, and would go hungry. 
 
 The Spanish all have patron saints, for 
 whom they are named, and this saint's day 
 is more observed than a person's birthday. 
 It was a source of wonder and pity to the 
 Seuora that I had no patron saint. What 
 could my parents have been thinking about, 
 she said, to give me the name of no saint. 
 She even urged me to add the name of a 
 saint to mine and celebrate the day, declar- 
 ing she would be afraid to die with no saint
 
 TllK l;l.lM) 1 KAI) rHK HI IM).
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 91 
 
 to protect her. Their reverence for religion 
 is beautiful. A car driver always bares his 
 head upon passing a church if it be a hun- 
 dred times a day, and poor old cripples 
 crawling past the Cathedral pause to cross 
 themselves. 
 
 Some days I would just wander in the 
 streets trying to see what I could see. I re^ 
 member one afternoon particularly. I 
 was homesick — desperately homesick, and 
 thought to shake it off by a ramble among 
 these ever interesting people, where there is 
 something new to see every day. This time 
 I had about mastered my emotions, and was 
 watching a man lead a pig along the side- 
 walk by a string — a. rebellious pig, that 
 made a dash for every open door-way, and 
 almost upset a millinery establishment in 
 less than two minutes, arousing the risi- 
 bilities of every one near except the owner of 
 the establishment and the ovvner of the pig. 
 
 I was laughing, too, when I heard the 
 most melancholy strains of music. Glancing
 
 02 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 about me I spied a grimy little boy perched 
 on the pavement playing a harp — utterly 
 oblivious to all about him, plaA'ing "After 
 the Ball," more full of pathos than Charles 
 Harris, the composer, with all his morbid 
 conception of sorrow, could have conceived. 
 I never heard anything sweeter than that 
 little piece drawn from a crude harp that 
 cost only a few pennies. I wondered if the 
 youthful musician guessed that he was mak- 
 ing a lonely American girl's eyes swim with 
 tears till she couldn't see her way. I left 
 him, still playing his little song, and re- 
 traced my steps with an emptier void in my 
 heart and a cry from my heartsick soul for 
 home. 
 
 Joaquin Miller said of Mexico: "It is 
 Italy and France and the best part of Spain 
 tied up together in one bunch of rapturous 
 fragrance." The climate is always perfect 
 — ^to an American healthfully, delightfully 
 soothing, yet a Mexican, swathed from eyes
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 93 
 
 to toes in a blanket will tell you this is ''por 
 el aire''' (on account of the air). 
 
 "Fellow feeling makes us wondrous kind." 
 Aside from the pleasure of speaking the 
 musical language I now conscientiously chat 
 with every passing tamale man, for I know 
 how dear the sound of his own tongue, 
 when far from his tierra. Never shall 
 I forget one day soon after my arrival, w-hen 
 I was lying in my room thinking how 
 strange the jargon, half Indian, half Span- 
 ish, of the old cook sounded when I heard 
 a burly American voice say "See here, these 
 pipes are 'busted' and no one on the place 
 can understand me." I appeared in a mo- 
 ment to enjoy the privilege of directing him, 
 and of hearing him speak our substantial 
 language. I don't believe I should have 
 cared much if he had sworn — in English ! 
 Send the coldest hearted American, seeming- 
 ly devoid of love of country, beyond the 
 line where the last English is heard, and, if 
 "Home, Sweet Home" doesn't bring tears to
 
 94 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 his eyes, he is hopeless. Nothing so intensi- 
 fies the love of our native land as abandon- 
 ment of it. A peep into the charming home 
 of our American Consul-General will cor- 
 roborate this. Old Glory waves from every 
 possible place, the walls are draped with it 
 because they love it so. A treat lies in store 
 for every American visitor that is so for- 
 tunate as to meet the American Consul- 
 General and his lovely young wife. 
 
 The music of Mexico is a. source of con- 
 stant pleasure, but the melody that made 
 me ready to shout for joy was, "A Hot 
 Time in the Old Town To-night," played by 
 an American football team passing through. 
 The roar of appreciation from the assembled 
 Americans was deafening. Let those laugh 
 who will. I would that all who think thus ; 
 would bid good-bye to every familiar face, 
 manner and word, and go away to live 
 among foreigners. Surely they will go to 
 scoff and remain to weep. 
 
 One day I saw an old "peon'' go up and
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 95 
 
 beg for one of the ever popular ta males, from 
 a womian sitting on the pavement. She re- 
 fused the request. Nothing daunted, he 
 coaxed and teased the old hag, but she re- 
 mained firm until he playfully tilted up her 
 chin and kissed her. Then she gratefully 
 handed him a tamale; so fond are they of 
 this delicacy that I do not believe he thought 
 his price too high. 
 
 It always sounded so funny to hear 
 those tiny brown children prattling Span- 
 ish, for they learn to talk sooner than 
 American babies, their language is so easy 
 to learn. But funnier still is it to hear the 
 chatter of the parrots in the markets, that 
 speak with all the rolling pronunciation of 
 their instructors, who, for four dollars in 
 their money, will gladly part with one. 
 They sell easily, but do not bring as good 
 a price as the little Chihuahua dog, which 
 is so small that a man can stick one in his 
 pocket, and avoid the duty at the border,
 
 96 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 whereas a parrot would scream vociferously 
 at such an indignity. 
 
 What trouble people do get into for 
 smuggling! A bridal pair I knew, who 
 tried to hide some of the native drawn work 
 in their trunks, were arrested, and made to 
 pay five hundred dollars American money 
 before they were allowed to leave Laredo. 
 The saddest part of the situation was that 
 they had to telegraph to the bride's father 
 for the money. The bridegroom exacted a 
 promise from his wife that as long as she 
 lived she would never allow a piece of drawn 
 work to be seen in their home. People are 
 caught daily trying to smuggle. One clever 
 woman was discovered with her pompadour 
 filled with opals ; still another tried to wear 
 a bustle made of a handsome drawn-work 
 table cloth. The oflieials were too well up 
 on fashion, though, for her. This woman — 
 looking like a picture from Godey's Maga- 
 zine with her huge bustle — was directed to 
 interview the inspectress; consequently the
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 97 
 
 handsome cloth never decked her table, and 
 when she was allowed to proceed on her 
 journey it was with a much lightened purse. 
 People would better decide not to be too 
 clever around the ever alert officials. 
 
 That examination at the border is by no 
 means a myth. The train stops, and first a 
 quiet woman with a mantilla over her head 
 comes through the coach and makes known 
 that she is the inspectress. Every satchel 
 must be opened and its contents displayed. 
 It depends entirely on her humor whether 
 every article must come out. If suspicious, 
 she demands a glimpse of even your tooth- 
 brush, and may peep into your powder box. 
 
 Then everyone gets off the train and goes 
 into the baggage room, where inspectors and 
 inspectresses wait to swoop down on the 
 trunks like Assyrian wolves on the fold. 
 You are allowed to open your own trunk 
 and watch the examination, and if you can 
 say a few pleasant words in Spanish, so 
 much the better. Sometimes the scrutiny is
 
 98 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 superficial, sometimes every garment will be 
 held up to the eyes of the public, the hose 
 unrolled and the inspectress' hands run into 
 them even. It is amusing to watch the dif- 
 ferent expressions of the inspected. All 
 have been advised to look indifferent, and 
 the efforts are almost ludicrous. A man 
 with several boxes of cigars down deep in 
 his trunk will look away whistling, but an 
 occasional glance out of the corner of his 
 eye says plainly that he is not at ease. Oth- 
 ers will be entirely too ingratiating, and 
 still others tremble with fear — but I found 
 that innocence is the very best safeguard. 
 To go to ^Ha campana^' (the country) 
 is a source of unmixed joy to a Mexican. 
 Often we used to order up a burro each and, 
 strapping on a blanket and the few essen- 
 tials for camping out, would be off for ^^la 
 campana." Far out among the silent 
 mountains we would pass the summer home 
 of the governor, a beautiful retreat that he 
 loved more than his mansion in town.
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 99 
 
 Once, when he was there, we stopped for 
 several days — delightful days, buried from 
 view in that perfect spot. Wide, cool, stone 
 galleries, luxuriant growth of all kinds, and 
 the Southern hospitality of the governor, 
 combined to make the days most pleasant, 
 but even this could not long hold us. We 
 must go away further into oblivion and 
 camp in some sunshiny spot on the bank of a 
 babbling little brooklet where all day birds 
 warbled sweetly in the palm trees, lizards 
 basked in the sunshine, and we lay in bliss- 
 ful idleness, enjoying the wonders of nature 
 here, for Mexicans never tire of the match- 
 less beauties of their land. 
 
 Occasionally we would hear the tread of 
 a sandaled foot and spy a pulque man 
 with his pigskin pouch making his way to 
 some pulque plant to extract the beloved 
 beverage. Far away and lonely he seemed, 
 but as undisturbed as the birds and lizards 
 by our intrusion. There was nothing in his
 
 loo An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 life but to extract pulque to sell to his fel- 
 lowmen for the downfall of their morals. 
 
 Away in those sylvan shades of palms and 
 waving bananas is found a deadly lit- 
 tle plant. It is an opiate, joy giving in its 
 effect for a time, but whose insidious poison 
 gradually permeates the system, until the 
 poor creature, smoking the little herb, (for 
 'tis thus its poison is imbibed,) one day 
 helplessly bats his or her eyes, fights for 
 light, then learns that no ray of light is ever 
 again to come to the poor mortal. Nor is this 
 all. Soon all his faculties are gone, and they 
 tell you he is "locoed" (crazed), and until 
 death releases the poor creature he sits 
 (there hour by hour, screaming in weird 
 laughter one frightful peal after another, 
 mirthless as blood-curdling. It seems in- 
 congruous that such gruesome possibilities 
 could be contained in this pretty little fra- 
 grant plant. Not only troubled human 
 beings seek its solace; often a poor dumb 
 animal, strangely lacking in the instinct of
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. loi 
 
 self-preservation, will become inoculated 
 with the poison, dying the same frightful 
 death. 'Tis the bitter amid the sweet. 
 
 Never before had I cared to live in the 
 country, but there the fascination, the at- 
 tractiveness of a home scene, a lowly home 
 scene, impressed me as some are impressed 
 by looking from a bridge down upon mighty 
 waters. I felt that I must become a part of 
 this life, leaving the old behind. 
 
 I longed to join the home circle, and al- 
 ways left with a sense of something lacking, 
 after the contemplation of one of those 
 peaceful scenes — a little adobe house nest- 
 ling among the hills — flowers blossoming 
 about it — birds carolling in the trees and 
 nearly always a contented woman with a 
 sleeping baby in her arms. 
 
 Coming in one day suddenly I discovered 
 the Seiiora and her daughters smoking cig- 
 arettes, which they quickly threw behind 
 the settee. I knew smoking was customary 
 but I didn't believe this family indulged in
 
 I02 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 it. At the theatres the men smoke so that 
 the room is in a cloud most of the time dur- 
 ing the play. 
 
 The women in Northern Mexico are be- 
 coming a little ashamed of the practice, and 
 are secretive about it. American ways are 
 beginning to be adopted. Some ladies are 
 even laying aside their pretty mantillas on 
 the plazas and wearing hats ; tlie more loyal 
 ones, however, look as sweet and coy as 
 their mothers, and their mother's mothers 
 looked.
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 103 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 The Mexicans are a happy people in their 
 home life. But with all their love for home 
 they have no word in their language ex- 
 pressive of its tender meaning. Casa the 
 word they use means merely house. They 
 are finished in the delicate art of evasion. 
 A secret is a secret which all the powers of 
 earth could not extract. After the time 
 spent in sleep and at the table, the hours to 
 be spent in other occupations are not many, 
 for they remain at the table exchanging 
 news and pleasantries more than an hour 
 each meal, and when one considers how 
 many meals they have this is no mean 
 length of time. Seiior Carlos always got 
 out his guitar at twilight, and sang for us,
 
 I04 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 songs full of love, every note a sigh. Both 
 the girls played the mandolin, and the 
 Seiiora played both the piano and the guitar, 
 so there was no dearth of music. Every 
 Mexican girl plays a. mandolin. Her edu- 
 cation is not considered complete without it. 
 No jacal is so humble but that the tinkle 
 of the mandolin may be heard within its 
 adobe walls. 
 
 They learned our "Home, Sweet Home,'' 
 and played it with so much tenderness that 
 I invariably listened with tear-dimmed eyes. 
 But most of all they enjoyed coon songs. I 
 had always thought these undignified, but 
 one evening when I had played everything 
 T could think of I struck up "Miss Ambolina 
 Snow." They were delighted, for to them 
 "Zas negritas'' are as interesting as monkeys. 
 One sees no negroes there, unless it is the 
 few very st^iishly dressed ones that flaunt 
 through the streets with their heads held 
 higher than anyone about them. 
 
 So every evening they would insist on
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 105 
 
 hearing music of ''Las negritas/' and g?g- 
 gled at every word I sang-, alt!hough tliey 
 could not understand. Seiior Carlos called 
 his sister Rosita "la negrita/' because she 
 was so dark, and had such big black eyes, 
 and the cognomen never failed to arouse her 
 resentment. She frequently so far forgot 
 herself as to throw a tortilla across the table 
 at her brother, Seiiora protesting : "Ninas, 
 niiias" (children, children). Carlos was a 
 dreadful tease, though. The Seiiora had 
 the most brilliant coloring for a woman of 
 her age, and he would pat her face and de- 
 clare his mother was an artist in painting. 
 But what Carlos said was always perfect 
 in his mother's eyes. 
 
 I never wearied of hearing about Senora's 
 romantic marriage. She, now such a stately 
 woman, had married a man of thirty-five, 
 a governor. She was a child then, just thir- 
 teen, and the pictures of her taken on tlhat 
 day are sweetly innocent and lovely. Around 
 her slender throat is a rope of pearls, and the
 
 io6 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 childish hands wear the old family wedding 
 ring and the engagement solitaire, so 
 young for such emblems of responsibility. 
 She had brought all her dolls with her, and 
 had been displeased because one had not 
 been allowed to lie in her lap in the picture. 
 For a time she amused herself sewing for 
 her dolls, refusing even to return her calls. 
 Soon, however, she tired of the great lonely 
 house, and her toys, and did not hesitate to 
 say so, and, despairing of managing the ser- 
 vants, cried to go home. So he took her 
 back to spend a few weeks, her mother re- 
 turning with her to the new home. She 
 stood "With very reluctant feet — where 
 womanhood and childhood meet." Yet, 
 many of the girls there, of all classes, as- 
 sume such responsibilities at this early 
 age. 
 
 In this old house of memories, that had 
 been standing more than a hundred years 
 mice and cockroaches abounded. Every 
 few weeks the girls and their mother would
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 107 
 
 start on a tour of the house ridding it of 
 these unwelcome tenants. This they did 
 not trust to the servants. For some reason 
 the girls imagined they must remove their 
 stocl^ings for the fray, and wear only their 
 little slippers, which were so small they 
 looked as if they might have belonged to 
 Cinderella. 
 
 It was great fun to watch this game, for 
 such they made it. With skirts lifted high 
 tihey would give chase, and if the mouse 
 came: their way they struck at it with a 
 broom, made for the nearest chair, and 
 shrieked as women will the world over for 
 a mouse. 
 
 This was the only work they did, week in 
 and week out. Almost the whole afternoon 
 was passed in slumber, and afterward came 
 "visitas" or shopping, or that endless pac- 
 ing around the plaza. They never tire of 
 this if they live single till they are forty. 
 After marriage they do not come to the 
 plaza so much. Of course, during the hon-
 
 io8 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 eymoon, they do not miss this opportunity 
 for dress parade. Nothing could be m<^re 
 demure and coquettish than Rosita in her 
 plaza attire, with always a sparkling fan- 
 chain — and who knows so well how to wield 
 a fan as a Spanish maiden? Her black 
 hair she wears high on her ihead with a tor- 
 toise-shell comb over which she drapes her 
 soft mantilla, and peeps from beneath it 
 with the most bewitchingly conscious air 
 one can imagine. She manages with in- 
 imitable grace her beruffled skirts the man- 
 tilla, and fher fan ; nor ever forgets a certain 
 toss of her head, so coy that people sit and 
 watch for her to pass — her tiny high-heeled 
 shoes clicking daintily on the stone walk — 
 a Mexican girl whom it would be easy for 
 the most invulnerable American to lose his 
 heart to. The conscious air and the elusive 
 coquettish manner harmonize so perfectly 
 with all else in that land of dreams. Mexi- 
 cans put on mourning for the most remote 
 relative.
 
 An American Girl In Mexico. 109 
 
 One evening I found Concepcion, a som- 
 bre figure in black, crying. She told me 
 that a cousin of hers had just died, but when 
 I tried to comfort her, she said : 
 
 "Oh, I'm not crying for that. I didn't 
 know him. I'm crying because I have to 
 wear this ugly black a month, and can't 
 go on the plaza." 
 
 As a people they do not believe in each 
 other. A mother questions her daughter's 
 word, and a daughter doubts her mother. 
 One evening when I came home Seiiora 
 asked me if I had seen her girls on the 
 plaza. I said "No," thoughtlessly, for I 
 hadn't noticed. When they came I heard a 
 volley of as harsh words as their language 
 can express, and Senora saying: ''Mentira, 
 mentira,'' which, in pure nervous English, is 
 liar. Concepcion slipped up to me and said 
 in her excitable little voice: 
 
 "Why in the world didn't you say you saw 
 us on the plaza? She will never believe us 
 now."
 
 I lo An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 It seemed to me so strange that a moth- 
 er as devoted as theirs could doubt the state- 
 ment of her grown daughters. It is said 
 that a Spaniard's surveillance of his wife 
 is unceasing — with the eye of a hawk he 
 watches her every movement, and yet I have 
 seen the stealthy exchange of missives on the 
 plaza, times innumerable, between people I 
 knew were supposed to be happily married, 
 to some one else. This is why one man 
 has written of them, "A land whose flowers 
 have no perfume, men no honor, and women 
 no virtue." 
 
 Yet how can one blame them, with their 
 foolish customs. To them the iron-barred 
 window with the face behind is the shrine 
 before which they worship. Between lov- 
 ers there has never been a conversation per- 
 haps until engaged, and they meet after the 
 engagement only in the presence of the 
 girl's family, so that they are necessarily 
 mere strangers on the day they become hus- 
 band and wife. Even at balls, between
 
 An American Girl in Mexico, i t i 
 
 dances, a young man leaves his partner im- 
 mediately and usually goes from the room 
 to smoke until the next number. And their 
 dancing is such a rapid, pretty whirl, that, 
 although they make the most of the oppor- 
 tunity, there is small chance for conversa- 
 tion. 
 
 One night a young man sat behind me in 
 the ball room and discussed me with a 
 friend in painfully audible tones 
 
 "Isn't the Seiiorita beautiful — her hair 
 is like sunshine, and her eyes — did you ever 
 see such eyes?" were the kind of remarks 
 that came to me, and made me wonderfully 
 uncomfortable and indignant. I tried to 
 persuade myself that they didn't know who 
 I was, until he leaned nearer me and said 
 even more distinctly : 
 
 "She is divinely tall — don't you think 
 so? Most Americans are." 
 
 A little later he rusihed up to my partner 
 and said: 
 
 "I wish to meet the Americano.-' This is
 
 112 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 no uncommon way for them to request an 
 introduction, but my turn had come. 
 
 "I regret, Seiior, that my acquaintance 
 is already sufficiently large," I said, and 
 started to turn away, but he stepped in 
 front of me, with an amazed expression on 
 his face. I saw that he did not understand 
 my action so I reminded him of his conduct 
 of a moment earlier. He seemed even more 
 astonished. 
 
 "Am I then not to say so if I like your 
 looks?" he asked. 
 
 "I prefer that you should refrain from 
 doing so in my hearing," I answered him. 
 
 "You mean to tell me that you are dis- 
 pleased because) I admire your hair and 
 eyes? Truly, Senorita, you are an excep- 
 tional woman. But I beg your pardon, if 
 that's what you wish, though I know not 
 why I should. Will you dance with me?" 
 he concluded. 
 
 "I'd rather not, if you cannot see wherein 
 you have erred."
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 113 
 
 "Oh, Senorita., I see from your stand- 
 jx>int, but you Americans are so peculiar 
 and hard to understand. Will you not par- 
 don me this once?" So I did. And 'tis a 
 fact that their women are most pleased with 
 such flattery. While a man dare not walk 
 with one alone in the street he is no less a 
 gentleman if he says something flattering 
 as she passes — not to her but of her. 
 
 On the street it really is most annoying 
 the way they do. A man will deliberately 
 turn and exclaim "Que hermosa!'' ("how 
 beautiful,") and feel that he has paid you 
 the highest tribute. They sometimes even 
 stop their carriage and follow a girl out of 
 sight with their eyes. It is useless to resent 
 it, for the lesson would have to be taught to 
 the entire masculine portion of the Repub- 
 lic, who know from experience that flattery 
 is the open sesame to a Seuorita's favor. 
 Senor Carlos had a friend who used to come 
 to see him every few days — 'twas another
 
 114 ^^^ American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 ''Damon and Pythias" devotion. This 
 friend began to bring a box of ''diilces'^ to 
 me each visit, and watch me more each time 
 and make little side remarks to the family 
 that I could not but see were favorable. One 
 day he said to Carlos in my presence: "I 
 wish I had seen the Seuorita three years ago, 
 before I married." I was greatly surprised, 
 for he was such a slender^ youthful looking 
 man, with such a boyish face. I did not go 
 into the parlor the next time he came, and 
 he sent word to me, "Please to come." But 
 I pleaded the time-worn excuse of a head- 
 fiche, and then he sent me a little note in 
 his best English, of which he was very 
 proud. It ran : 
 
 "Senorita; 
 
 "No stars shine in my heaven this day. 
 Your eyes are my stars. Without them I 
 have no light. May I be lonely? 
 
 "Enrique."
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 1 1 5 
 
 Beneath the signature of every letter, 
 however informal, there is a sort of peculiar 
 flourish — ithe more elaborate, the better. 
 Without it no note has any importance. 
 This ''Tiihica" is taught at school. Always 
 before giving away a photograph they in- 
 scribe on the back some pretty verse or sen- 
 timent. In the dainty little hand with the 
 '^ruhica" particularly elaborate Rosita 
 wrote on the picture that she gave me : 
 
 "A tu, mi predilecta de todas otras, la 
 mas hermosa y divina. Rosita." 
 
 Which translated is : "To thee, my favor- 
 ite of all others, the most beautiful and 
 divine. Rosita." 
 
 One day I missed my watch, the favorite 
 of all my belongings, and I turned my room 
 upside down before I gave the alarm. The 
 servants were arraigned, one by one, and un- 
 hesitatingly accused by the family. Each 
 denied it. In fact, I don't believe there was
 
 ii6 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 a servant in the house who knew I had a 
 watch at all. I felt quite sure that Trinidad, 
 my maid, was guilty, but her tearful face 
 and heartrending protestations of innocence 
 made me feel like a culprit myself. 
 
 "How can you believe I could steal your 
 watch, Seiiorita, when you have been so 
 good to me and have given me so many 
 pretty things?" she would say tearfully. 
 
 So I let Trinidad go, and even begged her 
 pardon. Of course, I cried over the loss of 
 my watch, and it was many months before 
 I recovered it. A friend discovered it in one 
 of the many pawnshops, and it had been left 
 there by a girl whose name was Trinidad 
 Garcia de Calzado. So my "innocent" maid 
 was guilty. 
 
 The government has a pawnshop in every 
 city. It is called the '^Montc de Piedad/' or 
 "Mountain of Piety," and is really a godsend 
 to the peons, who can borrow money on 
 anything there. It is a nice place to visit. 
 There are carriages of the richest with tags
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 117 
 
 hung over the monograms, cradles of the 
 poorest, with no monograms to hide — 
 dresses, machines and anything but live 
 stock, at this Monte de Piedad. The interest 
 on the loan is small, and when the time has 
 run out with the article unredeemed it is 
 sold and the price, less the loan and interest, 
 returned to the original owner. Rare old 
 jewels can be picked up there for a song. 
 I knew a man who bought a blue fan made 
 in 1300 of something like pearl which cost 
 him thirty dollars Mexican money ; in a few 
 days he refused an offer of a hundred dollars 
 in gold for it. 
 
 The peons' propensity for purloining is 
 not exaggerated. They carry long hooks, 
 which tihey use for dragging counterpanes 
 off a bed or a rug from a propitious spot in 
 the room; they literally "hook" any article 
 they can, and there are many accessible 
 things to be reached through the iron win- 
 dows. They are professional beggars, com- 
 mencing it from the day they can lisp out
 
 ii8 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 ^^un ccntavo/^ and never attain an age at 
 which they are ashamed to beg. 
 
 Adults are restricted to Saturday as a 
 day for begging, and though they use all 
 days, if a person cares to be so heartless, 
 he can have one arrested for doing so. Such 
 distressing numbers of cripples as one en- 
 counters! Some claim that children are 
 crippled by their guardians in order that 
 they may be more successful beggars. This 
 though is hard to believe, as one of their 
 admirable traits is their love for their chil- 
 dren, and they do have such scope for an 
 exhibition of this love in their enormous 
 families. 
 
 There are no tennis courts nor golf links 
 among the Spanish, No basket-ball teams 
 nor bicycle clubs to give a healthful rose 
 tint to the cheeks; the soft olive of their 
 skin is nature's gift to her most indolent 
 child. They are neither tall nor fair, but 
 they are slight — every movement is full of 
 grace, and they are essentially feminine.
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 119 
 
 Because they do not indulge in athletics 
 and "go in" for the "higher education" of 
 women, detracts nothing from their person- 
 ality, and they are thoroughly simpatica. 
 The limit that it is considered well for a 
 girl to reach in school is not as high as an 
 American would sanction, but they see no 
 need for higher mathematics and science. 
 
 When a girl has learned to write the most 
 diminutive faint hand — to express herself 
 extravagantly in poetic language — the spell- 
 ing mostly correct, there is no fault to be 
 found with her literary education. Schools 
 are as primitive as everything else in Mex- 
 ico. The small children study aloud like 
 the Chinese, and to a person passing a school 
 house it sounds like buzzing bees. 
 
 The children of a family usually take the 
 surname of tihe mother, and when the father 
 dies the mother always signs herself 
 "widow" of Senor, whoever he is. This cus- 
 tom seems very strange to Americans whose 
 mother's name is alw^ays lost at the altar.
 
 I20 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 But there are many things strange about the 
 Mexicans. 
 
 "Andele — andele — vamonos" ( "hurry — 
 hurry — let us go," ) calls out the blue uni- 
 formed conductor — in sharp contrast to the 
 prosaic "All aboard'' we are accustomed to 
 hearing. 
 
 At every stop Americans clamber down to 
 gaze wonderingly upon the novel scene 
 about them, until this pretty note of warn- 
 ing is given. 
 
 When one contemplates a tour the initial 
 consideration is the wherewithal to meet in- 
 cidental expenses — the anticipation of which 
 makes him without a bottomless pocket 
 shudder with apprehension. The popular 
 conception of a tourist is one whose pockets 
 fairly bulge with money. Story books — the 
 touring gilded fool whose actions prompted 
 some wiseacre to observe that "a fool and 
 his money soon part," and the time-worn 
 newspaper joke of the young man w^ho 
 slaves all the year for a salary in three fig-
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 121 
 
 ures and parts with twenty dollars for a 
 foreign supper, are responsible for the erro- 
 neous idea. 
 
 Another popular conception is that the in- 
 habitants of all foreign countries are a set 
 of professional pickpockets, who, in a fig- 
 urative sense, keep their hands constantly 
 down in the pockets of the traveller. 
 
 Tourists who honor our sister Republic 
 with a visit are surprised at the insignifi- 
 cance of expenses. The greatest leveler of 
 life is travel. Cinders, delayed trains, and 
 impossible sandwiches are no respecters of 
 persons. These touches of nature make the 
 whole world kin. The ever changing scen- 
 ery and the shifting stream of humanity 
 lend an interest to travel that is fascinating 
 and demoralizing. How infinitely more en- 
 joyable to roll through the stony streets in a 
 peculiar old fashioned coach than in modem 
 rubber-tired carriage. 
 
 Nothing could be more charming than a 
 string of these old coaches to be seen there
 
 122 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 any day. Nothing bespeaks their lack of 
 progress more plainly tlhan the vehicles they 
 use. Every great change the world has seen 
 has been marked by a change of vehicle. 
 They are mile posts in the world's progress. 
 While in appearance their trains are like 
 ours, the several grades of travel make a vast 
 difference. It is a kind of first-class-passen- 
 ger-stay-in-and-ride — second-class-passen- 
 ger-get-out-and-walk — ' third-class-passen- 
 ger-get-out-and-push affair that is alleged to 
 have existed in the old stage coach era. To 
 begin with! the third-class and end in a 
 luxurious Pullman, is immeasurably better 
 than starting in a Pullman and ending 
 amid the squalor and unutterable woe of the 
 ^'pobres." "No eqiiijmje con holetos de ter- 
 cera class/' reads a third-class ticket. 
 This ostracism of luggage on a third-class 
 ticket falls, a harmless shaft, at the feet of 
 the ''pohres/' 
 
 Had the officials ruled that they must car- 
 ry baggage in order to ride, they would in-
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 123 
 
 deed have worked a hardsliip on them, for 
 they do not possess a rag which is not doing 
 actual service. They repose stolidly, if not 
 comfortably, on a bench built along the side 
 of a coach, the poverty of appointments and 
 unclean condition of which does not in the 
 least disconcert them. In these third-class 
 coaches lie the possibilities of smallpox, for, 
 in contagious diseases, ^Mexicans are very 
 acquisitive. They all have smallpox. It 
 stamps upon their faces a visible proclama- 
 tion that they have lived up to the tenets of 
 the times. 
 
 Far more reasonable in price — their ho- 
 tels make up in novelty what they lack in 
 system and haste. The servants are docile 
 and pleasing, and do not consider that they 
 hold the destiny of the establishment in the 
 hollow of their hands. 
 
 One does not have to wander block after 
 block with his weather eye out for a lunch 
 stand. The ^4iole culinary talent of the 
 city turns out en masse seeking whom they
 
 124 A'"' American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 can find to devour their wares — "huevos 
 cosidos" (boiled eggs,) "camotes" (sweet 
 potatoes,) and other things which would 
 appeal only to a very vitiated and suscepti- 
 ble palate. At every corner one is beset by 
 these venders, who insist that you take 
 something for your stomach's sake, and for 
 that very reason you desist. 
 
 A vagary of Mexican character that is well 
 nigh baffling, to a student of human nature, 
 is their vacillating understanding of "In- 
 gles/' (English). In stipulating terms of 
 exchange or barter their understanding of 
 English and monetary denominations is 
 perfect. If given too little, they immedi- 
 ately devise a means of conveying to you in 
 no uncertain manner that something more 
 is coming to them ; if paid too much, and one 
 attempts to impress them with the fact, all 
 understanding forsakes them, they become 
 exasperatingly obtuse, and it is almost like 
 "holding a man up" to get your money back. 
 Curios can be had for a trifle if bought in
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 125 
 
 the streets and markets; however, if one 
 wanders into their lovely shops, he emerges 
 from its alluring precincts a sadder but a 
 wiser man, feeling as though he had gone 
 through the extracting processes of an 
 American church bazaar. 
 
 Another paramount consideration when 
 going touring, is, "What shall I wear?" 
 Ever since Mother Eve vainly arrayed her- 
 self in fig leaves, dress has been a neces- 
 sary commodity in all civilized countries, 
 and has come to be considered the keynote 
 to one's character. For a tour of Mexico, 
 the only preparation necessary is to haul 
 down a few of your summer clothes that 
 have escaped the rag man and take a light 
 wrap for evenings on the plaza. It is said 
 that a person going out after sunset with- 
 out a light wrap is liable to instantaneous 
 pneumonia. Thus you are amply equipped 
 for passage through the domain of 
 the Montezumas. However, if you wish to 
 be the cynosure of all eyes and '^muy ele-
 
 126 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 gante/' according to the dictates of Mexican 
 propriety, provide yourself with several bril- 
 liantly colored costumes; above all things 
 wear no short skirts, and your prome- 
 nades on the plaza will be one long triumph 
 from a standpoint of individual attention. 
 Among the climatic peculiarities is the fact, 
 so they afiflrm, that one stepping out of a 
 darkened room into the ever radiant light 
 is in danger of being struck blind. 
 
 Their distinctive love for flashy colors 
 has always been unaccountable to tourists, 
 unless attributed to their geograpTiical loca- 
 tion. It is characteristic of people who live 
 near the heart of nature and especially peo- 
 ple in tropical or semi-tropical lands, where 
 the delicate brush of nature has given to the 
 plumage of every bird, and petal of every 
 flower, a matchless brilliancy. Their eyes 
 have become trained to it and they look upon 
 all neutral shades as a direct departure from 
 nature. Brilliant hues lend to life a gaiety 
 dear to the heart of every Mexican. The
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 127 
 
 '^pobres" in their bright blankets attract 
 the attention of all tourists, who shower 
 down pennies to the motley throng at every 
 station in order to watch the feverish 
 scrambling of agile children and decrepit 
 mendicants. It is a fair field and no favors.
 
 128 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 We had been planning the trip for some 
 time before we took it, the Seiiora and 
 her three daughters. But at last we 
 shook the dust of Monterey from our 
 feet and left for Mexico City. 
 
 We spent a few days at Saltillo, and 1 
 have wondered that more Americans do not 
 spend their summers there. The matchless 
 climate, the awe-inspiring mountains, and 
 the quaint picturesqueness of the little 
 place, unite in making it a particularly 
 charming resort. 
 
 The sunsets of Mexico! Above all else 
 in beauty impossible of description — it 
 daily sheds its luminous colors over that
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 129 
 
 pretty world to overwhelm traveller and 
 dweller alike with, its wondrous beauty. 
 "When the longest day at last bows down 
 to evening" and the great sun sinks slowly 
 to rest behind some lone mountain and na- 
 ture throws her calcium lights with their 
 matchless glints and tints upon the vast can- 
 vas of the heavens, the soul is enthralled as 
 things mundane lose themselves in the 
 sweetness and solemnity of the spell. 
 
 Boarding houses are almost unknown, 
 and so strong is their feeling against pub- 
 licity in domestic life that a girl, or a girl 
 with her mother, cannot call on a friend at 
 a hotel without jeopardizing her good stand- 
 ing. To rent a house in Mexico is a sort of 
 hide and seek game without the fun. One 
 must trudge up one stony street and down 
 another with furtive glance directed toward 
 every ironbarred window for the inevitable 
 little fluttering paper sign of vacant houses. 
 Most of these are viviendas or suites of 
 rooms that rent for any fabulous figure the
 
 130 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 owner dares name; the higher upstairs, the 
 deeper in pocket. 
 
 The hotels which are so good here are won- 
 derfully cheap. But life is cheap anywhere 
 in Mexico. F'or the same price in Mexican 
 money that one would have to pay in gold 
 in the States a person can board there at 
 delightfully foreign places. 
 
 As the train flashes into the tropics 
 through lands bright with sunshine, stream- 
 ing green foliage and tropical sky, the trav- 
 eller's face loses its look of vacant half in- 
 quiry, for one of pleased wonder and vague 
 delight in the shifting scene about him — the 
 peculiar people and the more peculiar 
 names; names such as ''Canon de las zopo- 
 lotes^' (Canon of the turkey-buzzards), and 
 Cuernavaca (Horn of a Cow). 
 
 The trip from Saltillo to San Luis P'otosi 
 is lovely, every moment one of interest. The 
 way is lined with great Spanish dagger 
 plants as tall as oak trees. A thousand par- 
 rots scream in the forests as the train rat-
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 131 
 
 ties by. At every stopping place, and there 
 is one every few miles — peddlers meet the 
 train crying out their wares, which consist 
 mostly of little horn trays and the pretty 
 bright woolen serapes or blankets. 
 
 One old man tried to coax me into buying 
 a toy he exhibited with much pride — made of 
 dry corn-stalks. It was something between 
 a carpenter's sawhorse a horse and a rab- 
 bit. I don't believe there is a child in the 
 United States who would have enjoyed play- 
 ing with it. 
 
 Our purses received the most guarded pro- 
 tection during these peddlers' invasion of the 
 train, for they have a very unsavory repu- 
 tation as '"rateros" or thieves lying in wait 
 for every train — literally lying in wait, for 
 they bring their blankets and sleep by the 
 track until the train comes in. They are 
 not notified of the change of schedule, but 
 that makes no difference — they know it has 
 to come some time and they have nothing 
 else to do but wait.
 
 132 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 We spent a week at San Luis Potosi in the 
 home of Seiiora's brother, who had a sweet 
 sad-faced wife and three little girls, and we 
 were royally entertained, I enjoyed most 
 the evenings on the plaza, listening to the 
 band. No music can express the love, the 
 heartache and the yearning that theirs does, 
 and in San Luis it was particularly beauti- 
 ful. There is music in the very air — music 
 peculiar to the country and the people. 
 Nothing could be more exquisite than their 
 "Home, Sweet, Home" found in the strains 
 of "La Golondrina." When away from his 
 native land a Mexican's eyes fill with tears 
 at the first notes of this air, and he dreams 
 of his adobe or marble home with brightly 
 glistening eyes. It strikes the soul of the 
 stoutest, sternest native of that sentimental 
 land. 
 
 Intense, emotional, and high-spirited as 
 the Mexicans are, one is impressed by the 
 absence of insanity unless produced by a 
 peculiar opium. However, there was a
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 JO 
 
 beautiful girl near us who became insane 
 about music, a daughter of one of the best 
 families. Mexicans are rigid in the enforce- 
 ment of their law that there shall beno music 
 after ten o'clock at night, unless at a ball. 
 No private family is safe from arrest who al- 
 lows music after ten, but this family have a 
 special permit for their daughter, and al- 
 most any night after twelve she may be seen 
 on the roof of her home bowing and smiling 
 her acceptance of imaginary floral tributes, 
 her clear voice ringing out sweet and start- 
 ling on the midnight air. She imagines 
 herself a prima donna, and such she doubt- 
 less would have been but for the mis- 
 fortune of diverted faculties. More than 
 one person strolls over to Dr. Goss street 
 late each evening, and stands, rapt, listen- 
 ing to this poor nightingale, unable to real- 
 ize that the beautiful human songbird is a 
 crazed creature, a rarity indeed in that land 
 of enchantment. 
 
 Our Americans are not slow to see the
 
 134 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 possibilities of a new country, and Mexi- 
 co is practically a new country, and they are 
 rapidly awakening to the fact that not far 
 from us lies a land blessed by a glorious cli- 
 mate and imbedded with rich minerals, un- 
 til several millions of American dollars are 
 invested there in mining properties monthly. 
 I knew an American boy who opened a 
 photograph gallery there, and he and a 
 friend invested their little savings in an old 
 mine that was thought to be worthless. His 
 salary was small, and his expenditures nat- 
 "arally less, but their determination never 
 wavered. When they eventually got pos- 
 session of the mine they interested Northern 
 capital; and the young photographer re- 
 cently sold one-third of his interest for a 
 quarter of a million dollars in gold. Of 
 course this turn of affairs may be called 
 luck, but, after all, "luck is pluck." A 
 Mexican thinks money by inheritance the 
 only money worth having, — perhaps being
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 135 
 
 reared in that sleepy clime makes them the 
 languorous people they are. 
 
 No land under the shining sun is more 
 wondeirful, more peculiarly interesting 
 than the historic land of the Montezumas. 
 From the time of the sun worshippers down 
 to the time of the Diaz worshippers, its 
 thrilling history reads with a romantic 
 charm that is indescribable. Lying for cen- 
 turies wrapt in slumber, it seemed all un- 
 mindful of the progress of other lands. Like 
 Kip Van Winkle, when it did awake, it 
 strenuously resisted all innovations in the 
 least calculated to disturb its time-honored 
 ways and traditions. But the restless, re- 
 sistless spirit of the twentieth century is si- 
 lently stealing in upon it, and while the 
 changes of the past decade were in gradual 
 process of evolution, they were scarcely per- 
 ceived by those living there. Despite these 
 changes, were one borne, in the twinkling 
 of an eye, from the Arctic region, with 
 its rigorous atmosphere and bleakly
 
 136 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 desolate landscape, to the tropics, where 
 the lavish hand of nature has given to every 
 tree and flower such perfect form, he would 
 be no more struck with the wonder of the 
 transition than he is when he is whisked 
 across the Rio Grande into Mexico. Tour- 
 ists return from that winterless land won- 
 dering at the vagaries of nature. But at 
 last God's masterpiece, man, is the most 
 wonderful of all, and to the studenit of 
 human nature who loves to w^atch the 
 faults, the fancies and the virtues of his 
 fellowmen, the people of Mexico are a source 
 of pleasant research. Indolence is a nar 
 tional heritage, handed down from an un*- 
 broken line of luxury loving ancestry. 
 They drift and dream their lives away to the 
 tinkle of the guitar. In the even tenor of 
 every-day life they are most passive, yet, 
 when aroused, their love, hate and jealousy, 
 their emotions and passions amount to hy- 
 steria. 
 
 At the markets are stalls where butterine
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 137 
 
 is sold. This butterine is all made by an 
 American woman who got a concession to 
 make it, selling every pound for fifty cents, 
 Mexican money. Her butterine goes all 
 over the Riepublic ; no one else can make it 
 without buying part of her concession from 
 her. This is one of the advantages of Mex- 
 ico for any enterprise, as there can be no 
 competition. 
 
 ''Mantequilla, mantequilla/^ ("butter,") 
 ^'hlancias" ("eggs,") "Icche," (milk,) was 
 the droning cry I heard all about me in the 
 market place, when at my side, to my pleased 
 surprise, I heard a substantial American 
 voice call out: "Fresh butter here!" It was 
 a stolid business-like looking American wo- 
 man presiding over her stall amid that sea 
 of foreign faces. 
 
 When progressive Americans see the na- 
 tives actually plowing with crooked sticks, 
 and using other such primitive means of 
 agriculture, it is surprising that more peo-
 
 138 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 pie do not hasten to seek their fortunes 
 there. 
 
 Only by evincing interest and admiration 
 can an American gain entree into Mexican 
 society — a society never so gregarious as in 
 the North, and, among patricians, far more 
 exclusive. Ignorance of their language — 
 the only possible social medium — is a bar to 
 intimacy. Broken Spanish as well as brok- 
 en English gives one a childlike, perhapa 
 simple air, and in serious moments this be- 
 comes taxing. Pleasurable conversation 
 depends on all participants recognizing and 
 appreciating the delicate shades of the 
 tongue in which it is carried on. Ameri- 
 cans and Mexicans cherish the most elab- 
 orate misunderstandings of one another be- 
 cause of the inability of each to come into 
 closer contact. While the language is nat- 
 ural and rhythmical, they seem to delight in 
 unpronounceable names for places. Izmict- 
 lanapochalocca is the name of a port which 
 the soul reaches on its journey heavenward.
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 139 
 
 Iztaccihuatl or La Mujer Blanca (The Wo- 
 man in White) is the lofty mountain near 
 Mexico City that presents the appearance of 
 a woman on a massive white bier, wrapped 
 in her shroud of everlasting snow; lying 
 there, her figure is perfectly outlined, with 
 her hands folded on her breast — ^another of 
 nature's peculiar departures. 
 
 Before reaching Mexico City we passed 
 through a canon called Infernillo, (Little 
 Hell) full warm enough to warrant the 
 name. 
 
 San Luis Potosi is a pretty white city of 
 low flat topped houses, but when, at the end 
 of the week we landed at the grand capital, 
 I forgot San Luis, forgot everything but the 
 beauty about me. Every one that goes there 
 is struck with the dazzling whiteness of the 
 city. The very first breath of air is wonder- 
 ful. For the first few days one does feel 
 the eight thousand feet altitude by short- 
 ness of breath. This is first experienced 
 the night before arriving at the capital
 
 140 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 when passing over an elevation of eleven 
 thousand feet. After this slight inconven- 
 ience, thoug'h, there is a constant joy in 
 living — an indescribable sensation of ec- 
 stasy. A suicide in that glorious country 
 is an unheard of occurrence. 
 
 For miles and miles before reaching the 
 city we passed the sign ''Zona Torrida" 
 where began the giant trees with hanging 
 vines and brilliant blossoms on the highest 
 branches. This almost impenetrable forest 
 is a mass of verdure from the loftiest tree top 
 to the ferns at the roots, and the air is full of 
 tihe smell of green coffee. The great wide 
 white asphalted streets are teeming with 
 beautifully dressed women — dashing vic- 
 torias and flower girls. Of course the 
 brown laughing children are there too. It 
 seemed to me the appearance must be that 
 of a French capital. 
 
 We at once began our sight-seeing, con- 
 trary to the directions in the guide book to 
 "Rest two days." First we went to the
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 141 
 
 grand art studio, where in cool white galler- 
 ies are displayed pictures by the old masters. 
 One immense painting, covering almost one 
 side of a room, represented Abraham on the 
 verge of sacrificing Isaac, and the angel stay- 
 ing his hand. It is the grandest painting 
 I ever saw, the expression of perfect obedi- 
 ence on Isaac's face — the stern suffering of 
 Abraham's — I could have lingered before 
 this one alone for hours. There are all 
 kinds of pictures ; landscapes, portraits, and 
 still life ; also a grand hall of sculpture. On 
 all sides are students in linen aprons copy- 
 ing pictures — purpose and genius on every 
 face — until it does indeed seem like Paris. 
 The Spanish are a talented and ingeni- 
 ous people. They excel in painting, music 
 and sculpture, and nothing displays more 
 genius than their weaving of the serapes, 
 and the drawn work of the "peons." They 
 are too dreamy and poetical for practical 
 life, and, were it not for enterprising Amer- 
 icans, they would live their little lives in
 
 142 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 ignorance of the treasures stored about 
 them; still, they quietly resent the ap- 
 propriation of their rights by Americans. 
 
 There seems to be a lurking jealousy in 
 the heart of each one you meet; a precon- 
 ceived determination not to be friends. 
 They are inclined to be very distrustful of 
 "Gringoes'' as they call Americans. 
 
 Their antipathy for Americans seems 
 more intense the deeper into the interior one 
 goes, so that it cannot be entirely accounted 
 for by the ruthless manner in which Amer- 
 icans have outraged their proprieties. 
 
 There was a handsome young cousin from 
 an interior city visiting the Senora and her 
 children, and the three months of his visit 
 were in many ways unpleasant to me, if 
 laughably so. Luis Adolpho became very 
 soon the hero of the home, praised for his 
 eyes, his glowing color, his grace and his 
 clothes. One day I told him that his 
 clothing looked very American ; he declared 
 he would burn them at once, nis hatred
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 143 
 
 was absorbing, violent. Nothing I could 
 do would change his views. Some days he 
 would be merry and agreeable, drawing me 
 into conversation, when, with a gesture of 
 supreme disgust, he would exclaim : 
 
 '^iSlo recuerdo que listed es una Ameri- 
 cana!'' (I do not remember that you are an 
 American.) His cousins and the Senora 
 would laughingly remonstrate with him, but 
 all to no avail. 
 
 When the telephone rang he usually 
 answered it, for they love their telephone 
 very much — here they can engage in con- 
 versation otherwise forbidden. If some 
 poor unfortunate called for me he would ex- 
 claim, ^'■Gringo F' and slam the receiver into 
 place. I came in from a little jaunt once 
 and found every photograph I possessed 
 marked "No good." Luis Adolpho had done 
 this. It was the only English at his com- 
 mand. When his father told him he wished 
 to send him to college in the States,
 
 144 -^.n American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 Luis Adolpho declared lie would not be 
 branded by such a " vereguen:2a" (shame). 
 
 He was supposed to be very much in love 
 with a pretty girl living nearby ; one day he 
 came in and announced that she was no 
 longer his ^'dulce carazon," for someone had 
 said she looked like an American, and he 
 lamented deeply that he had wasted money 
 by having her serenaded. 
 
 Although people say their politeness is a 
 veneering, and among the ^^peons" it 
 does amount to obsequiousness, I think 
 even a Frenchman would have to look to his 
 laurels before a high-born Mexican. Though 
 it may lack sincerity, there is a beautiful 
 grace in his every bow — in every movement 
 — a grace that it is impossible to imitate. 
 
 The National Museum contains treasures 
 of much greater interest than prosaic mu- 
 seums usually have, with their following of 
 tired school teachers. Here is Maximilian's 
 coach, mounted in gold with gold cupids on 
 it, and lined with white satin and lace, a
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 145 
 
 luxurious equipage; here, too, the calendar 
 stone upon which seven hundred human be- 
 ings lost their heads in a day. 
 
 On the eastern end of the Alameda, in 
 Mexico City, has long stood one of the most 
 palatial homes in Mexico — doubtless the 
 grandest in the Republic. The stairs and 
 corridor floors are of the purest marble; 
 out of the corridors open about fifty per- 
 fectly furnished rooms. The magnificent 
 dining hall is a hundred feet long, furnished 
 in rosewood and mahogany. The glisten- 
 ing floor is in rare mosaics. In this room 
 are several thousand pieces of exquisitely 
 painted china, sparkling glass, and silver- 
 ware. 
 
 Fairylike in their daintiness are the bed- 
 chambers, with their soft lace draperies and 
 hand embroidered sheets. The parlor fitr 
 tings are beautiful ; every chair is in a frame 
 of massive gold, under sparkling chandeliers 
 that cost enough to keep a modest family in 
 comfort for a lifetime. In this room is
 
 146 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 a table of inlaid wood showing the face of a 
 beautiful young girl — a piece of workman- 
 ship without a parallel. The air is filled 
 with music of passionate sweetness, for the 
 love of music is inherent with the whole na- 
 tion. 
 
 The Cathedral is magnificent, but the re- 
 cent substitution of wooden floors for tiling 
 detracts greatly from its beauty. There is 
 no telling the money that has been spent on 
 that building, and in it. The jeweled crown 
 on the Virgin Mary cost thousands of dol- 
 lars — paid for chiefly by the hordes of poor 
 who worship there. 
 
 Mexicans are natural gamblers. Even 
 small boys sit on the streets all day long at 
 some winning or losing game. I was pres- 
 ent on one occasion when a car driver ex- 
 cused himself to his passengers, and stepped 
 down to engage in a. wayside game, of heads 
 and tails. In a few minutes he came back, 
 having pocketed his winnings, and, thank- 
 ing us for our patience, drove on. All day
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 147 
 
 men and women pass back and forth on the 
 streets with their little game cocks — ^for 
 thus they make or lose a living. Every- 
 body buys lottery tickets. They are sold 
 on the street by newsboys like daily papers. 
 Roulette is another thing that has a strong- 
 hold on the public. Fortunes are made and 
 lost in a single night in the roulette quar- 
 ters. 
 
 Much has been written of Chapultepec — 
 the home of the revered President Porfirio 
 Diaz, who is really a grand man. Nothing 
 has ever been written in his praise that has 
 said too much — he is the stronghold of the 
 Republic. In order to appreciate that white 
 palace on the hill one must see it. A more 
 fitting location could not be found, with a 
 fine view of snow-capped Popocatepetl in 
 the distance, and framed by the nearer 
 mountains. The people love their president 
 as Queen Victoria's subjects loved her. 
 
 The Paseo de la Rcforma is the "swell" 
 drive of Mexico City — it is to the Mexicans
 
 148 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 what Champs Elysees is to Parisians — a 
 broad, shady avenue leading to Chapultepec 
 — beautiful in every detail, with its magnifi- 
 cent statues every few blocks — for the Span- 
 ish spare no pains to beautify their capital. 
 
 Big "double-decker" cars run through the 
 city, killing several sleepy ^'peons'' daily, 
 down among the slums. Cars run out to the 
 little villages near the city, clustering 
 among the mountains; these are delightful 
 trips to take. A few minutes' ride and 
 one is transported to a sleepy little hamlet, 
 as quiet as a buried city, whose peaceful 
 streets it is a delight to wander through. 
 
 There is no place, though, so lovely as the 
 flower market. It occupies one block of 
 ground and is a mass of poppies, violets, 
 roses, lilies and carnations, with their in- 
 toxicating perfume. 
 
 I priced one mammoth bouquet of Amer- 
 ican beauty roses. "Five dollars," was the 
 prompt answer. 
 
 "No, indeed," I said; so he dropped to
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 149 
 
 two dollars without further parley. Still I 
 refused to buy, and he kept falling until 
 finally he followed me up the street and 
 asked me to take it for twenty-five cents, 
 which is much less than twelve and a half 
 in our money. Fancy my triumph at get- 
 ting my arms full of American Beauty 
 roses at such a figure! One day at 
 the fruit market I asked for twenty-five 
 cents' worth of oranges, and was appalled 
 when the woman counted out thirty-seven 
 large ones and beckoned me to take them. 
 On the way down we had made a stop where 
 hundreds of peddlers boarded the train with 
 great bouquets of orchids for sale, and would 
 not fall, as is customary, in their price. Re- 
 gretfully we were thinking of having refused 
 them, worth as many dollars in the United 
 States as they demanded in cents here, 
 when we got another chance at them. 
 While the train was circling twelve miles 
 around the mountain these natives had 
 scrambled down two thousand feet and were
 
 150 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 waiting for us at the station, ready to 
 "close" at any offer we made. Then we 
 understood why they had been firm in their 
 first offer. 
 
 Victorias can be rented on any corner for 
 fifty, seventy-five cents and a dollar an hour, 
 and as many people as can get in may go at 
 that price. Those at fifty cents an "hour are 
 likely to contain fleas, for the low class peo- 
 ple use them; the others are quite elegant. 
 We did not know the difference when we 
 first arrived, until we were nearly devoured 
 by fleas, and some one explained why it was. 
 It is not at all amiss to discuss fleas there, 
 though. I have seen Concepcion and Ro- 
 sita make a dive after one right in company 
 without even saying '■^Con permisoJ' 
 
 The cheap carriages have tiny yellow 
 metal flags on the seat by the driver, the 
 next price red, and the finest one a blue flag. 
 
 The only way I could remember which was 
 which, was by saying in my mind, "yellow 
 for yellow Mexican, red for ordinary red-
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 151 
 
 blooded individuals, and the blue for the 
 blue-blooded people." Though very childish 
 this served the purpose. The prices are re- 
 markable when one considers the difference 
 in money. 
 
 The change of money is rather confusing 
 at first, and the mind involuntarily runs a 
 figure two through every price. A person 
 feels wonderfully rich when the money is 
 changed going over, and he gets more than 
 two dollars for one. But how flat the purse 
 coming back and changing the money at 
 Laredo, when exchange is probably as low as 
 thirty-five cents for a dollar. 
 
 When one steps into a carriage there is al- 
 ways a dirty little boy who runs beside it, no 
 matter how fast it may be going, until he 
 is panting for breath. The only way he ever 
 gets left is by stopping to challenge some 
 other urchin who is trying to take his place. 
 One day while on a shopping expedition, I 
 decided to go to the post office to see if my 
 name was posted up there among the list
 
 152 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 put up daily in Spanish for letters of no 
 particular address. I left my parcels in the 
 carriage, and the little urchin, smiling 
 sweetly at me as I went in, assured me that 
 he would watch them for me. 
 
 When I returned there was a great com- 
 motion in the vicinity of the carriage, every 
 one of them berating my little attendant for 
 being a ratero, which he * stoutly denied. 
 I appeared upon the scene, and a young 
 Mexican man, bowing low, told me that the 
 little boy had stolen a comb. As I turned to 
 reprove him, he snatched it from his shirt 
 bosom and tossing it toward me, fled down 
 the street — a policeman at his heels. I 
 watched him out of sight and was glad to see 
 him gaining ground. The very next day I 
 saw the little fellow on the street, and he 
 smiled an unashamed smile of recognition. 
 'Tis a pathetic sight to see the little fel- 
 lows almost running their legs off for the 
 sake of a possible penny. 
 
 Three days we devoted to the ascent and
 
 An American Girl In Mexico. 153 
 
 descent of the Popocatepetl. First we 
 went to the pretty town of Amecameca, then 
 up to the ranchero's home and from there 
 slowly by ropes we climbed, with the 
 guide ahead. We wore heavy warm clothing 
 and took along plenty of food. Arriving at 
 the summit we were well repaid for our ex- 
 ertion. A beautiful view for miles around 
 us, and the triumph of being able to say we 
 had climbed Popocatepetl. What had taken 
 three days to climb we descended in a few 
 moments. How? By taking a seat on a 
 mat of rushes — and w-h-sh-t ! We were back 
 at the ranch. Of course we were frightened, 
 but not tired. It was a delightful trip, both 
 ways. 
 
 We spent one lazy month here, sightsee- 
 ing when we felt inclined, and at other times 
 revelling in the sunshine and music of the 
 plazas. Then the Senora turned her face 
 homeward with unwavering determination, 
 and though we left with reluctance we en- 
 joyed the return trip as much as the one
 
 154 -^^ American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 down. Monterey seemed quiet, indeed, after 
 the gay, noisy, flashy capital. 
 
 Two months more slipped by and I began 
 to yearn for home. "Breathes there a man 
 with soul so dead, who never to himself hath 
 said, 'This is my own, my native land?' " 
 became my constant refrain, and the letters 
 from my loved ones made me more and more 
 heartsick for a glimpse of that dear land of 
 stars and stripes. I had learned to chatter 
 the Spanish language quite fluently; nearly 
 a year's self-imposed exile had made me feel 
 like an orphan. One day when a letter 
 came, announcing the approaching marriage 
 of a dear girl friend, and asking that I come 
 to be bridesmaid, I told the family I was 
 going home. It was at the dinner table 
 that I made the announcement. The dear 
 Senora dropped her face in her hands and 
 began to sob. That very evening I com- 
 menced my packing, and set a day for my 
 departure less than a week hence. I grew
 
 A HATl'Y m)MK CIRCLE.
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 155 
 
 almost wild ynth joy at the thought of 
 home — so much so that I feared the family 
 would feel wounded. Never in all my twen- 
 ty years of happy life had I felt such de- 
 light. 
 
 Often there had been a motley throng un- 
 der my window; children and brown faced 
 babies, laughing and chattering with me in 
 their own tong-ue. I never knew why they 
 loved so to come unless for an occasional 
 bright bit of ribbon for the girls, and the 
 "cigarros-' for the boys. I knew why I 
 loved to have them. What girl would not 
 be pleased with their pretty flattery? Such 
 lovely extravagant things they would say to 
 me! Sometimes I would become extravar 
 gant and shower down pennies, their big 
 awkward pennies. Then what a scram- 
 bling there would be! Like a barnyard 
 scene, when corn is scattered among the 
 fowls, and such blessings as they would 
 call down upon me. I learned most of their
 
 156 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 names, and naturally there were Concliitas 
 and Pedros, Carmens and Rafaels, for these 
 are as inevitable in Mexico as our Smiths 
 and Jones. When I told them one day that 
 I was going back to the States there was a 
 unanimous roar of sorrow, little brown 
 grimy fists rubbed tearful eyes, and I knew 
 then what true little friends I had made. 
 They had really learned to love the Scrwrita 
 Americana, and their little homely gifts 
 were most touching. Treasures that they 
 had carefully hoarded up were poked un- 
 hesitatingly into me through the barred win- 
 dow, and for once they accepted pennies 
 without evident joy. 
 
 I had grown so roundfaced during the 
 year that I was almost afraid the home 
 folks would not know me, and hoped I hadn't 
 forgotten how to speak English. The night 
 before I left, Senora went to the Cathedral 
 to offer a prayer for my safe arrival at 
 home and happiness thereafter, and gave me
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 157 
 
 a beautiful pearl rosary, which, with tears 
 in her eyes, she begged me to use; and an 
 opal ring, and shed more tears over me. 
 
 Seiior Carlos brought me a brilliant 
 silken shawl, and I knew it wasn't 
 given in the spirit in which they usually 
 give presents. If a person expresses admi- 
 ration of a thing a Spaniard has, even if it 
 is his carriage, he offers it to you, and in- 
 sists that you take it. Of course, he doesn't 
 expect you to do so, and would probably cut 
 your acquaintance if you did, but he would 
 be no gentleman not to offer it. One matter- 
 of-fact old man I knew, was unfortunate- 
 ly expressing admiration of a blanket a 
 Mexican friend had when the friend began 
 to insist that he take it — so the American 
 did — expressing great appreciation. Nat- 
 urally he was much surprised a few weeks 
 later to hear that he had been called a 
 thief by the giver. Of course he was ex- 
 pected in a few days to send back the
 
 158 An American Girl in Mexico. 
 
 blanket. But this the American did not 
 know. 
 
 There was genuine sorrow, I know, at my 
 departure. Even Senor Carlos' voice broke 
 as he declared I was like a sister to him, and 
 left the room sobbing. 
 
 Such love did they show in every way — 
 even locking my room and declaring it 
 seemed like a death chamber^ — that my rap- 
 ture was mingled with grief. 
 
 They knew I loved them and their coun- 
 try; every phase of the life I had lived for 
 the past year; and so fond were they of me 
 that the SeiHora declared she could not bear 
 to think of my ever marrying a cold-hearted 
 American, for I was so different — so much 
 more like them ! she declared admiringly. 
 
 Dear Senora! She would not say good- 
 bye, and when I slipped in her room she was 
 there on her knees, her back to the door, 
 sobbing. She did not hear me enter nor 
 come toward her, until I had put my arms
 
 An American Girl in Mexico. 159 
 
 about her and whispered ^'Mamacitar' 
 Then she wrung her hands and cried ^^Oh, 
 hijita Americana, hijita." I kissed her and 
 hurried away, blinded with tears, and have 
 not seen her since, for in less than an hour I 
 was speeding toward "Home, Sweet Home." 
 
 THE END.
 
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