ed with business houses. The amount of
life in the town at night surprised us. Even after ten o'clock, many
were on the streets, and the _dulce_ stands, _cafe_ tables and _loto_
hall were doing a large business. Few towns in Mexico are so completely
under priestly influence, but few again appear as prosperous,
progressive, and well-behaved. Two distinct types of houses
predominate, the older and the newer. The old style house is such as
is characteristic of many other Tarascan towns, but is here more
picturesquely developed than in most places. The low-sloped,
heavily-tiled roof projects far over the street and is supported below
by projecting timbers, which are trimmed at the end to give a pleasing
finish. So far do these roofs project over the sidewalk that the water
is thrown into the middle of the street and the footpath below is well
sheltered. The new style of house, which is required by the recent laws,
has an almost flat roof which ends squarely at the sidewalk, and from
which long tin pipes project to throw the water into the streets. Here,
as so frequently, the old fashion is at once more comfortable and more
artistic.
We spent the morning in efforts to secure horses, but finally secured a
man, Don Nabor, who agreed to accompany us with five animals. The party
consisted of myself, my interpreter, my plaster-worker, and Don Nabor.
Each of us was mounted, and a fifth horse carried the plaster and other
luggage. Leaving at noon, we took the long road past Jacona, a little
town famous for its fruit. Having passed there, after a long journey, we
looked down from the height almost directly upon the place whence we
had started. The scene was of unusual beauty--the wide-spreading, flat
valley, with its fields of wheat and clustered trees, presented a mass
of rich green coloring, in the midst of which stood the pretty
city. After a long climb, we descended into a valley in which lies
Tangancicuaro, a large town with a _plaza_ full of fine, great trees,
where we ate at a quaint little _meson_. From here we pushed on to
Chilchota, the head town of the Once Pueblos. From the crest, just above
the town, we looked down upon a level valley, green with new wheat.
Entering the town a little after five, we rode up to the _meson_ of
San Francisco, near the little _plaza_. It was with difficulty that we
secured a room containing a single bed, with mattress, and two mats.
There was nothing at all to eat at the _meson_, but on str
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