English, except "Good-bye. I-am-yourfriend," which was repeated to each of us individually as we departed.

THE ANCIENT CANOES

The plaza of Mexcaltatan is a rectangle, in dimension about sixty by one hundred feet. Upon one side of it is the Jefe's house (which is also the government office), before referred to, and this and a small church standing opposite are the only substantial buildings in the town. Débris, accumulated through centuries, has made solid ground of the plaza, and has filled the ends of the canals adjoining it to a point above the high water mark, at flood tide, during the dry season. But from July to September, when the rivers pour down their torrents from the mountains of the interior into the lagunas, all but the band stand in the center of the plaza is submerged, and when the band discourses music from its elevated position on Thursday and Sunday evenings during this period, canoes circle around in and out amongst the cocoanut trees of the plaza, for then there is not a square foot of earth above the flood to stand upon.

This was the dry season, and nearly a third of the inner end of the canals was drained. Below that, canoes, propelled by men or women with long poles, moved up and down or swung around the town in the canals that circle in from the outer lagunas. Some of the canoes were laden with fish or shrimps, coming in with the morning catch; others were passing out, bearing the occupants to their morning tasks. There were places in the canals where fish were so numerous that they crowded each other. Once we stopped, where a man was sorting shrimps, to watch a school of catfish swarming close to the canoe in which the man worked, and devouring the rejected shrimps as he threw them into the water.

Narrow paths were built along the canals in front of the houses, and narrow footbridges, raised high, that they might not interfere with the free passage of canoes, permitted one to cross from canal to canal at the points of intersection. We made a circuit of the town along these paths and over the footbridges, and everywhere were announced by children, who

shouted into the huts as we approached, "Here they come! Here they come!" and curious minded folk stood in the doors to gaze at us as we passed.

After our inspection, we returned to the plaza. Here Señor Martin and the Jefe were waiting for us to accompany them upon an excursion amongst the lagunas. We were soon away, the five of us, and two Indian canoemen in a large dugout, shooting here and there through the beautiful embowered waterways, now in narrow places where the mangroves nearly closed overhead, now into crystal lakes-a veritable fairy maze-until we were quite confused with it all.

his pocket, and an accumulated stock of absorbed western American push. Now he is doing a yearly business of $150,000 in dried fish, which he exports to his fellow countrymen in San Francisco, and dried shrimps which he markets in the interior cities of Mexico. He owns a large fleet of dugout canoes, manned by Indians, some engaged in fishing, others, the carreteros, or freighters, in carrying the prepared product to the mainland mule trains, or to the steamers at San Blas and Mazatlan. One can pass through inland lagunas al

working capital of $300,000. He deplored the fact that he could not get a concession to carry on the deep water shark fishing of the coast, for shark fins sell readily in San Francisco's Chinese colony; but another Chinaman has that concession.

THE SCHOOL AND THE JAIL

From the Chinaman's drying yards we visited a school. The master-not our friend-seemed much pleased at the op

most the entire distance from San Blas, at the south of Mexcaltatan, to Mazatlan, to the north of it, a distance by canoe of about one hundred and fifty miles or thereabouts, possibly a little more, and this route has offered the Chinaman a cheap method of transportation for his products destined to the northbound steamers. To be exact, his business the year before our visit amounted to $50,000 in fish, $100,000 in shrimps, and $3,000 in saltMexican money. In ten years he has accumulated in these lines of industry a

portunity to have his schoolroom and his flock photographed. His flock at the time consisted of but three children-all boys. However, he politely excused himself until he could gather in some more youngsters, for he wished to make a good showing. We waited for him, and in a little while he returned with four or five recruits whom he had gathered from adjoining houses, and the photograph was duly made. The schoolhouse was much superior to the average dwelling. It served also as the sleeping room of the master, as a

canvas cot in the rear, enclosed within a mosquito bar, gave evidence.

Opening upon the patio behind the Jefe's quarters is a jail in which three Indian prisoners were confined-two men and woman. Some weeks previously the prisoners, with another woman, left San Blas one day in a dugout canoe, en route to Mazatlan. They were overtaken by a storm, the canoe capsized, and one of the women perished. The three survivors reached an island in safety, but every rag of clothing had been torn from their backs by the buffeting of the sea, and all their food and everything they owned in the world was lost beneath the waves. The sea drove the body of the drowned woman upon the shore, and the three, with sticks and hands, dug a grave in the sand and buried it to protect it from the thousands of vultures hovering above in anticipation of a ghoulish feast.

I shall not attempt to tell the story of how the survivors, with nothing but bare hands, found means to eke out an existence upon fish which were caught by the most primitive methods, and upon roots that they dug. Finally they were discovered and rescued by a passing canoe and brought to Mexcaltatan. Here their nakedness was covered and then they were thrown into prison for committing the heinous offense of burying a human body before the proper authorities had viewed it, for under the laws of Mexico this is a crime. The law does not take into consideration the fact that the flesh of bodies left unburied will be devoured by the ever-waiting vultures in a few brief hours, for vultures leave nothing but bones.

Six months in prison was the sentence. The unfortunate ones each had a small cell, with earthen floor, and no blanket, bedding or furniture. The cells had no windows, but an iron-barred door admitted light and air. A chain passed around one of the bars and around a log laid across

the doorway outside, the links of the chain fastened with an antiquated padlock, held very insecurely the occupants. I could not help remarking that if the prisoners had been very ambitious to escape they could have done so with slight effort. The Chief of Police and he constituted the entire police force of the town-graciously permitted a gift of a few coins to the prisoners.

Referring again to the vultures, I may say that they were particularly numerous and tame at Mexcaltatan. They sat upon the roofs, were at home in the plaza, and everywhere watched for fish scraps like a lot of hungry chickens. Upon ascending the narrow steps in the band stand I had to push one of them out of my way. Without these scavengers Mexcaltatan would not be habitable, for fish refuse would make a pest hole of it.

There were two or three cows wading in the shallow water and swimming across the deeper channels to browse upon the verdure of an adjacent island. Señor Martin told us they ate fish, and moreover, he assured us, they were adept at catching them. Perhaps they did, but it stretched one's credulity to believe it, and I did not see them do it. There were, however, hogs wallowing in the mud, and chickens everywhere, which lived almost wholly upon fish.

Our horses were to be in waiting on the mainland at three o'clock, and after a dinner consisting of the famous Aztec dish, tatishuile, composed wholly of shrimps, and an especially toothsome fish known locally as majarras, we bade good-bye to Señor Martin and the Jefe.

And so we left behind us this wonderful bit of old Mexico, with its quaint people and quaint life, its ancient canals and embowered lagunas, its flowers and its birds, well satisfied with our visit, and withal quite ready to move on to other

scenes.

VERY year they talked camp, but never got any farther than idle speculation as to the cost of a tent. A camp would be more restful than a summer hotel, they thought, but the getting ready would mean endless trouble; besides, who of them could imagine The Master of the House, ever irreproachable of dignity and immaculate of attire, in the guise of a camper? The thing was out of the question.

Instead, they sat in the piazza rockers of hotels on beach or mountain and secretly longed for the comforts of home.

Last year the middle of July found them rebels-they would not go anywhere. Every morning "The Captain" congratulated herself that she had been able to choose her own cantaloupe; in the moonflower-scented darkness of the front porch The Master of the House left off smoking a whole minute to reiterate:

"So glad we didn't go anywhere this year; home's the best place."

But the tense lines around his mouth were deeper. The Captain did not like them; no longer could she shut her eyes on the truth-The Master of the House was working too hard. He was bringing his business worry home with him, taking it to bed with him, eating breakfast with

it. She almost hated the pretty little nest of her own choosing; it was their ownall paid for-paid for with the youth and strength of The Master of the House. She laid her hand on his where it nervously grasped the arm of the chair; but he did not seem conscious of her touch. He was smoking too much, she knew that also, but, being a wise woman, she said nothing.

Steadily and conscientiously the mercury rose. One day at lunch The Captain was guilty of a white kimona; three tub plunges between six and six did not greatly abate the discomfort of The Master of the House. Mr. Root forgot to bark at the butcher's boy and wagged his tail but feebly when master came home. As she burned the brandy in her demi-tasse, The Captain said deliberately:

"We will go camping."

"And may I inquire when?" from The Master of the House.

Father going to be cross again and say things she could not quite understand? No; Mother was smiling as she rose from the table.

With the help of the two servants The Captain got together a few-a very few— necessities; blankets, towels, a frying-pan, a coffee-pot, nearly completed the list. Elise and Blanche joyfully accepted a tele-. phoned invitation, and at five o'clock and five minutes there embarked from the boat club an irresponsible but totally care-free seven. (Besides Mr. Root, Gordon Clark, an experienced riverman had been added to the passenger list.)

"Where is our tent?" from Girlie brought no response from The Master of the House, who was rowing and sweating in the sun.

Two hours later, and miles upstream, came the same question with no answer, but now, by some miracle, the tense lines were relaxing, though The Master of the House was still rowing and sweating. Thirty minutes more, and he was smiling as he said to Girlie:

"Our tent should be hereabouts; I sent it up by the county road; look for a tall poplar tree, Sharp Eyes."

Three pairs of sharp eyes discovered no tall poplar. Willows hung over the dimpling river, looking like ladies at their toilets, their long tresses falling in distracting beauty. Long ago the seven had left behind the discordance of poor hungry "chippy." Now thrushes called softly to mates on the other bank -Was that a mockingbird?

No tall poplar tree appeared; darkness fell-what matter? Was not care left back there with the bricks? As the moon rose they came to a sandy point that hospitably ran far out in the river to meet them, and, as by common consent, they were ashore.

It was perfect: a clump of sycamores, numerous willows, a bit of grass plot, a

CRISP

1909

sandy floor already swept and garnished. for them. Behind were sheer rocks and a spring cunningly hidden from casual look; a winding trail up the rocks.

The women folk lay on the sand; the men disappeared up the trail, and returned staggering under a bulky load. Incredibly soon-though it was twelve of the clockthe spread of canvas glimmered through the trees and the seven slept.

Yesterday the racking burr of the alarm clock called them from dreams to daylight's wearying round; this morning the birds told the seven what sleepers were missing the first fire-opal in the sky, the morning face of the river, the smell of the dew, the cleanness of the world.

After a bath in the river, The Master of the House was shaving himself. The mirror hung on a maple and he saw his tired, lined face wreathed by tender green. At home, Father's shaving was a trying thing to Girlie; she scarcely dared to draw a deep breath for fear of making him cut himself. Here she danced and sang re