t the whole of their bodies. The brown spots which cover the
face and hands of some people are produced by the pigment making its way
through the epidermis."

"Then," replied Lucien, "negroes would become white if they lived in
Europe."

"No," I answered, smiling; "the sun shines in Europe as well as in
America, and however weak its action may be, it is sufficient to blacken
the pigment."

"But if they always lived in the shade?" cried l'Encuerado.

"It would have to be perfect darkness, a thing which it is quite
impossible to procure."

At this moment our host called us. On a rickety table, covered with a
small cotton cloth, a bowl of thin soup, with _tortilla_ and tomatoes,
was smoking, and we all did full justice to our fare. This dish was
followed by a fowl seasoned with pimento sauce and black beans fried in
fat; then some _camotes_ (_Convolvulus batatas_) displayed the bright
colors of their mealy interior, in the midst of a sirup with which
l'Encuerado and Lucien regaled themselves. A large bowl of coffee put
the finishing stroke to our satisfaction. Instead of bread, we ate some
freshly made maize-cakes. Never had any dinner appeared so delicious to
us as this, for we had begun to get rather tired of game, which had
formed our principal food since we left home.

When the meal was over, Lucien ran back to join the children, who,
seated on the bank of the stream, were plaiting palm-leaves together.
One of them was very successful in making a grasshopper, and the boys,
delighted with the praises of their guest, vied with one another in
their inventions. They presented him with a bull, a fowl, a basket, and
other articles, which were very curious, considering the material used
and the skill of workmanship exhibited.

Lucien, perfectly enchanted with these presents, and finding that our
admiration hardly equalled his own, turned to l'Encuerado, who
criticised the articles submitted to him with an artistic eye:

"Then you, too, know how to weave palm-leaves?"

"Yes, Chanito, I can make grasshoppers, horses, and even birds."

"Only fancy! and yet you have never made any for me!"

"You are mistaken in that; when you were quite a little child I filled
your cradle with them. But as they seem to amuse you, I will teach you
to weave them for yourself."

At dark the children disappeared, and our host came to wish us
good-night. I told him of the light we had caught a glimpse of the
evening before.

"It was J