over, but we were
interested in seeing the quantities of pineapples and cacao beans there
offered. To lose no time waiting for dinner, we bought bread and one or
two large pineapples, which we ate under the shade of the trees in the
_plaza_. The pineapples were delicious, being tender and exceedingly
sweet; our _arriero_ refused to eat any of them, asserting that they
were barely fit to eat, lacking sweetness, and being prickly to the
taste. The pineapples of Simojovel were to his liking; they are
sugar-sweet, leaving no prickly sensation, and anyone can eat three
whole ones at a sitting. After luncheon, we looked about for examples of
lacquer-work. In one house, we found some small objects and wooden trays
of indifferent workmanship. An old crone, badly affected with _pinto_,
the mother of the young woman artist, showed us the wares. With her was
the older sister of the lady-worker, who, after we had bought two of
the trays, asked whence we came. Upon our telling her that Manuel was a
native of Cordoba, and that I had come from the United States, without a
word of warning she raised her hands, turned her eyes upward, and gave
vent to a torrent of shrill, impassioned, apostrophe to her absent,
artistic sister: "_A dios, hermana mia_, Anastasia Torres, to think that
your art-products should penetrate to those distant lands, to those
remote portions of the world, to be the wonder and admiration of foreign
eyes. _A dios, hermana mia_, Anastasia Torres!" This she repeated
several times, in a voice high enough to be heard a block or two away.
Leaving her to continue her exclamations of joy and admiration over the
fate of her sister's workmanship, we returned to the _plaza_, where,
in a house near by, we found a considerable stock of better work,
consisting of decorated bowls, cups, toy _jicaras_, gourd-rattles, etc.
This brilliant work, characteristic of the town, is carried hundreds
of miles into the States of Oaxaca, Tabasco, Vera Cruz, and into the
Republic of Guatemala. At two o'clock we hurried from the town in the
midst of terrific heat. As we rode out, over the dry and sandy road, we
were impressed by the display of death; not only was there one cemetery,
with its whitened walls and monuments, but at least three other burial
places capped the little hillocks at the border of the town. One,
particularly attracted attention, as it resembled an ancient terraced
pyramid, with a flight of steps up one side.

From the foot