outer rim of water. Very picturesque and entrancing the little town looked as we approached. The sun was just dropping behind the langunas to the westward, lighting the tops of graceful cocoanut palms, which rose high above the plaza, and setting on fire the red-tiled roofs of the gray huts below, while the murky canals beneath lay in deep and somber shadow. A bit of old Mexico, solitary and alone, untouched and unmarred by the march of civilization, it seemed to breathe something of the mystery of the forgotten days of its founders.

It was six o'clock when we landed.

tecting influence of firearms. Then we took our way across town to a hut where supper had been engaged for us.

CREATING A SENSATION

Our arrival had been heralded broadcast. Before we had gone a block our progress resembled a circus band-wagon parade, and I believe every child in the town was at our heels. They had never seen a white man before, nor people attired so strangely, and we were veritable curiosities. We might have gone on exhibition, and charged an admission fee, with profitable results.

The tide was out, and the canals were now naked black mud and mire. Under the guidance of the canoemen, we picked our way along a footpath that followed one of the canals to the plaza, and to the store of Kaiser's friend, Señor Fortunato Martin. Señor Martin saw us coming, and met us at the door with a most sincere welcome. He and Kaiser fell upon each other's necks and embraced before our formal introduction took place. When we were finally made acquainted with our host we deposited our artillery under his counter, as a mark of confidence in him and to show the world in general that we ven without the pro

were not a

At the hut where we were to eat supper, a talkative iron-gray señora received us, and bade us in Spanish, "Sit down-supper will be ready soon." She was quite puffed up with pride that she should have the honor of entertaining us, and was plainly the envy of two or three neighbor women, who were with her when we came, but hurried away upon our entrance, doubtless to notify the folk at home to come and have a peep at the curious looking strangers. We had hardly seated ourselves when we discovered the place surrounded on all sides by a crowd of men, women and children, old and young, large and small, peering in at us through the

cracks, or rather bars, of the hut, for it was unplastered and resembled more a cage than a house. I realized then how menagerie monkeys must feel, if they feel or think at all, when on exhibition before gaping crowds.

Presently supper was served, consisting of three kinds of fish, the local names of which are robolo, liza mocho and constantino. The fish was exceedingly well cooked, and accompanied by tortillas and coffee. We used our fingers in lieu of knives and forks, appendages of civilization not yet introduced into this quiet corner of the world. Fish is naturally the

we were introduced to his bosom friend, the Jefe, or Mayor, who also, I believe, in this instance acted as Perfecto. The Jefe, like Señor Martin, was a native of Tepic, and, like him, of Indian descent. He is the ruler of Mexcaltatan, while Señor Martin, his adjoining neighbor, is proprietor of a general store and gambling resort. Thus the two are the great men of the place.

CRIMINAL SLAUGHTER OF THE HERON

Presently the town band began to play in the plaza opposite and the two gentle

food staple here, and, indeed, but few of the people eat meat at all, and many of them have never learned its taste, excepting perhaps the flesh of water fowl, which are usually so plentiful and tame they can be had for the killing.

We dallied over our meal, and when at length we arose to go, our crowd of spectators had dwindled away to a few stragglers. This was a great relief, for modest men, such as our party was composed of, could not but feel embarrassed with so much popularity thus unexpectedly thrust upon them, and without attendance we quietly stole back to Señor Martin's. Here

men informed us they had employed it to serenade during the evening, in honor of our visit, which was a great event in the history of Mexcaltatan. Only twice before, we were told, within a period of which the memory of man runneth not to the contrary, had white men trod her streets. That was ten years before, when a renegade American came to kill egrets for their plumage. These birds were then very numerous and so tame they could be knocked over with sticks. He slaughtered them by thousands, and when at length, Christian patience exhausted, the Jefe rose up in wrath against the wanton destruc

tion of the birds and stopped it, and banished the man with a stern warning never to return, the egret had been so nearly exterminated that it is now rarely seen. The plumage of these birds is only valuable during the nesting season, and it is at this time they are killed, when the slaughter of each mother bird means a nest full of perishing young.

It was the business of this criminal to kill birds for plumage to adorn our ladies' heads, and it is a question in my mind which was the greater criminal, the man who killed the bird for profit, or the lady who wore the aigrette to satisfy her vanity. I call them criminals, for the offense should be made penal, if it is not now; besides, the word helps to give vent to my strong feeling in the matter. When I see a woman wearing the stuffed carcasses of birds on her head, or the plumage of birds that have been killed to supply the so-called adornment, I involuntarily liken her to the savage who bedecks himself in a like

manner.

It is the same vanity, and an unrefined, primitive notion of what constitutes adornment, that prompts both to adopt it. Not long since a woman was arguing with me long and ardently against vivisection, and all the time she talked I watched the poor stuffed remains of a bird bobbing on her hat as she nodded her head to punctuate her remarks, and I could not help asking myself, "Is it a sincere sympathy for what she terms 'the poor, defenseless, tortured creatures' that prompts her to take the stand she does against vivisection, or is it simply a fad with her which she has adopted because she thinks it is 'the thing'?" The hat, with its stuffed bird, was a strong argument against her sincerity, and not consistent with her remarks, and I decided in favor of the fad, though I discreetly kept this opinion to myself, for I am a timid man, and the wrath of a woman is usually unreasoning, often unjustified and always terrible to contemplate, especially when a man controverts her arguments with a patent proof of her insincerity.

It was too dark to see the town that night, so we sat out of doors and smoked to keep away the swarms of mosquitoes that infested the place, while we listened to the music and chatted with our jovial

host and his friend, the Jefe. Though neither of them could speak English, we had little difficulty in carrying on a conversation through Kaiser.

"Did you make your wills before you came?" asked Señor Martin.

"No, why should we make our wills before coming to Mexcaltatan?"

"In the high country they consider it a dangerous undertaking to come down here to the swamps," he explained. "Once in a while a merchant from Tepic or Guadalajara comes, and before he leaves home he always makes his will and says a last farewell to his family."

"Did any of them ever die here?" we asked, with some anxiety lest we had committed a grave oversight in neglecting to make our wills and bidding a fond farewell to Gates and Bigelow.

"Oh, no, it's just an old fiction. After the Conquest the Spaniards ranging the western coast of Mexico discovered the town, and some of them tried to live here, but the miasmal swamps made them all sick with the fever and they had to move away, and the place has ever since been looked upon as fatal to the white man. A bad name once given a locality will cling to it, deserved or not. It is not really so bad now. The natives will show you piles of oyster shells that they say their forefathers were forced to open to feed the Spaniards in those days. After that the Spaniards came only now and then, when they were on the coast and wanted a load of dried fish. There was nothing to keep them for there was no gold here nothing but fish."

"What is the population of Mexcaltatan?" I asked.

"Upwards of a thousand," answered the Jefe.

"Have you ever found any relics that would point to its ancient origin?"

"Oh, yes," said Señor Martin. "Every fourteen years or so the town has been burned down, and three years ago, when we had the last fire, it was decided to build a brick house for the Jefe's office and residence, and the jail, and when excavations were made for the foundations a number of idols of stone and clay, arrow heads and stone axes and old pottery were dug up."

"What did you do with them?"

"Gave them to the children to play with. They were of no use."

The following day I endeavored to find some of these relics, hoping they might throw light upon the people who founded. Mexcaltatan, but without avail. They had all been lost.

At ten o'clock the band ceased playing, and we were invited to our room in Señor Martin's house.

"A light will draw the mosquitoes," said our host, "so we shall have no light, but pass through the door quickly and retire in the dark."

When the door was opened in we rushed into unknown blackness, and, for aught we knew, to fall into some bottomless pit. But we found solid ground under our feet, and after groping around for some time, and colliding with each other, each discovered for himself a canvas cot, and went to rest.

In the morning an old señora set out a wash basin and some water under the cocoanut trees of the patio, and we bathed our hands and faces, drying them upon our handkerchiefs, for we had forgotten to

bring towels with us, and our host had none to offer. Then Señor Martin cut green cocoanuts from the trees and gave us to drink of the milk, and afterward we went out for a fish breakfast with our irongray señora. Her hut was the hotel of the town, and one of her guests was at table when we entered. He proved to be a school teacher, and, like the other gentlemen mentioned, hailed from Tepic. He arose as we entered, and extending his hand to each, greeted us in English with: "Good-morn-ing. I-am-you-friend," and as we sat down he continued, "I-amvera-much hun-ger-ie. I-am-the-schoolmaster."

It was gratifying to find some one who could speak English, and I was exceedingly pleased to meet him. A schoolmaster, he was doubtless a man of some education, and his knowledge of English would enable us to converse with him in our own language, and thus learn much of our surroundings that we would otherwise miss.

"How large a school have you, señor?" I asked, by way of opening the conversation.

"I-count-it-forty-one,"

with great precision.

he

answered

"A very good school," I commented. "Have you been teaching here long?" "I-count-it-forty-one."

I looked at him with astonishment. He was not a day over twenty-eight.

"Excuse me, how long did you say?" "I-count-it-forty-one." Then in a moment he continued, "I-eata-the-meat. Ihave-a-sickness."

Instead of fish, we then noticed that he had a small piece of meat before him, fried and burned very black.

"Is that better for your ailment than fish?" I inquired, beginning to wonder whether he was afflicted with leprosy, not uncommon in some localities of western Mexico, and feeling a decided interest in the matter, for we had all shaken his hand. But his reply was apparently far from the point.

"I-have-a-sweet-heart-with-the-beau-ti