[234] It is not to be wondered at that they are literal and material
in their conversation, for they know only their villages. See Delgado,
p. 317.

"I have observed none of this, especially in the women to whom I
have talked. Almost all of them are always attentive, courteous,
and kind." (Mas, p. 118.)

[235] M. and D. omit this sentence.

[236] M. adds: "and run away, for he is the bugaboo, with which the
children are frightened."

[237] Dogs do not bark at the Spaniards only, in any country, but
at those who are strange to them. Neither do the Indians detest the
fathers from birth. The fact that the Indians yield to anyone who
assumes a boasting attitude, especially if he be drunk, and have a
knife, is not so much cowardice as prudence. "I believe that the
reverend father was very melancholy, and tired of the ministry,
when he began to write his letter." (Delgado, pp. 317, 318.)

"If our father had traveled, he would have known that dogs bark at
anyone whose clothes are unfamiliar to them. In regard to their horror
of white faces, he at least exaggerates. It is not at all strange
that a child should cry at an object being presented to him that he
has never had in his ken before. I have seen many children burst into
sobs at the sight of my eye-glasses. It is a fact that some of them
have just as little as possible to do with us, either for contempt,
embarrassment, or antipathy; but there are a very great number who
profess affection for us. When the government secretary, Cambronero,
died in the year 1840, all his servants shed tears abundantly. A
serving-maid of the Senora de Recano was left desolate, when the latter
embarked for Espana a short time ago. An old woman on the occasion of
[the engagement of] Movales in the year 1823, gave Col. Santa Romana
proofs of great affection and fidelity. During the same engagement,
while Don Domingo Benito was haranguing his artillery sergeants
and telling them 'I shall die the first,' one of them answered,
'No, Sir, I shall die before you.' When the Jesuits were exiled,
the villages that they administered grieved exceedingly. In the
archives of St. Augustine, I have seen the relation of one of the
friars who went there for their relief, and he paints in lively colors
the memory preserved of the Jesuits: 'Here they cannot look upon a
white habit; notwithstanding the kind words that we speak to them,
and the presents that we make them, we cannot attract to ourselves
the