Part 12 (2/2)
The Indian children are very strong. The boys practice running and learn to carry heavy loads on their backs with ease. Many of the men are porters, or work in the silver mines carrying out the ore; some of them, however, are busy on the farms. As the boys grow up, they generally follow the same trade as their fathers. The pay is small and the work is hard, but it seems easier for the Indians to keep to the same old habits that were formed under their masters, the Spaniards.
Wherever you may travel in Mexico, you will meet Indian porters with heavy loads on their backs, moving along at a steady trot. Hour after hour they will keep this up, carrying seventy-five or a hundred pounds at a time. The Indian farmers may be fifty or even a hundred miles from a market for their goods, but it does not seem to trouble them that the vegetables they wish to sell must be carried all the way on their backs.
Besides the Indian and creole children are the half-castes whose skins are darker than those of their white brothers and sisters, though many of them have rosy cheeks. They are pleasant and good-natured, but are apt to be sly and lazy.
The fathers of the little half-castes are generally farmers or mule drivers. Their older brothers and sisters are often servants in the homes of the wealthy creoles, where they learn the ways and fas.h.i.+ons of the white people and try to copy them.
Most of the boys and girls of Mexico go to school which they must reach by seven o'clock in the morning, and where they spend about ten hours of each day. The seats and desks are not comfortably arranged as they are in most places in the United States. Those children who can have chairs are fortunate, for many of them sit on benches and even on the floor.
They study aloud, so you can imagine what a chattering there is. It is hard to understand how they manage to get their lessons.
There are many holidays in Mexico, when the tiresome schools are closed and both big folks and little give themselves up to feasting and dancing.
One of these, Good Friday, is celebrated in a curious way. All day long men go through the streets carrying figures of the traitor Judas hanging from long poles. They stop from time to time as children come running up to them to buy a Judas. Now comes the sport, for the figures can be blown up. Bits of lighted punk are held against the figures, when they suddenly burst like fire-crackers and make noise enough to deafen the ears of the pa.s.ser-by. It is no wonder the children save up their money for Good Friday so that they can buy numbers of Judases.
The evening is the best part of the whole day, for then immense Judases are hung up on lines across the streets and crowds of people gather to watch them while they are blown up and exploded. At the same time the city bells ring out the glad news that Judas has been destroyed. The strangest part of all is the crackling noise that now follows, representing the breaking of the bones of the two thieves who were crucified at the same time as Jesus. The Mexicans certainly have a queer way of celebrating Good Friday.
On the Coast.
Although a part of Mexico lies in or near the torrid zone, all kinds of climate are to be found in the country. Let us see how this is. Along the sh.o.r.es of the Pacific on the west, and of the Gulf of Mexico on the east the land is low and the air is hot and moist, and for this reason there is much illness there. The children of these lowlands know only two seasons, the wet and the dry. Many of them live on ranches where herds of cattle feed on the high, coa.r.s.e gra.s.s. Here and there small streams flow through the land from the mountains above, and there are lakes shaded by tall palm trees. These are the places where the tropical fruits of Mexico grow,-vanilla, spices, bananas, cacao, and oranges.
Mangoes, cocoanuts, and alligator pears, besides many others seldom sent to temperate lands, also grow here in plenty.
The lowlands are not perfectly flat, but slope upwards toward high hills where the air is clear and much cooler. The children here can gather yellow oranges and clutches of bananas, like their brothers and sisters of the lowlands, while they may also pick peaches and apples in their orchards. Flowers and trailing vines grow everywhere about them. The palms of the hot lands wave in the breeze on one side, while the roses and honeysuckles of the temperate zone bloom on the other. It is a strange and beautiful country.
Slowly we bid good-by to the little homes nestled among the trees, and with the help of a big double-engine we climb up the steep slopes to still higher lands. The trees are of a different kind now, for strong pines and oaks are about us everywhere.
The long climbing comes to an end at last. The double-engine has done its work and is used no longer, for we move out upon the plateau of Mexico where cactus plants spread over many acres, and wheat and barley fields greet us like old friends from the United States.
[Ill.u.s.tration: A Mexican Village.]
Vera Cruz.
When Cortez arrived on the coast of Mexico his s.h.i.+ps entered the only good harbor on the eastern side of the country. He and his men landed at a place to which the Spaniards gave the name of Vera Cruz, or ”True Cross.” Afterwards they built a city there, which to-day is one of the two princ.i.p.al ports of Mexico. Every year many s.h.i.+ps are loaded at the wharves of Vera Cruz with limes and hammocks, silver and copper, which they carry to the United States and other countries.
Vera Cruz is a beautiful city. Tall palm trees shade many a lovely home, in whose gardens children are playing throughout the year. Before it stretches the Gulf of Mexico, while at its back the lofty volcano Orizaba reaches far up toward the sky. The people of Vera Cruz work hard to make it a clean city, and they are helped by the vultures-big, ugly-looking birds who are ever ready to swoop down into the streets and house-yards to devour any decaying matter to be found. Bits of fruit and vegetables, sc.r.a.ps of meat, and dead animals whether big or little, are greedily eaten. Although the city is kept clean from one end to the other, it is not a healthy place for a home. Fever is in hiding everywhere and visitors find it wise to make only a short stay in the place.
Getting Vanilla.
Few people live in the low country around Vera Cruz except Indians and half-castes. Here and there on the banks of the streams you may find a group of palm-thatched huts with Indian children running in and out among the trees. The weather is so warm here throughout the year that they wear scarcely any clothing and many times in the day they plunge into the river to cool themselves. Sometimes the boys take long tramps into the forests on the slopes above them in search of pods filled with vanilla beans. They must seek only dark and moist places, for vanilla plants do not grow well in the sunlight. Swarms of mosquitoes buzz about the boys' bare legs, and snakes and lizards often cross their path. Many times they are obliged to crawl between tangled vines and push thick underbrush aside. But they care little for these things. Their minds are set on finding enough vanilla plants to yield them a goodly load of pods, which they will carry home and dry with the greatest care before sending them to market.
Acapulco.
On the western coast of Mexico is the city of Acapulco, with its deep and beautiful harbor. Many large steamers are loaded with cattle and hides, timber and fruit at its wharves.
The Mexican Farms.
Many of the children of Mexico have their homes on tobacco and sugar plantations which are found on the slopes rising from the lowlands along the sh.o.r.e. Still other children live on the plateau of Mexico on large farms which stretch over miles of country and seem like small towns in themselves. The men on these farms are busy in various ways. Some of them have the care of large fields of wheat or barley. Others tend herds of cattle or flocks of sheep.
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