eyes of wonderful blackness
and fire. The rebosa, the universal garment of the common class of women
in Mexico, is utilized as a carry-all for baby or bundles. It is worn
over the head and shoulders in the daytime, when not otherwise in use,
and at night is the one blanket or covering while the owner is asleep.
The donkey, or burro, as it is called, is to be seen everywhere in this
country. Poor, overburdened, beaten, patient animal! How so small a
creature can possibly carry such heavy loads is a constant puzzle. When
its full strength would seem to be taxed, the lazy owner often adds his
own weight by bestriding the animal, sitting far back upon its hips.
Before the coming of the Spaniards there were no beasts of burden in
Mexico; everything that required transportation was moved by human
muscles. It was not until the eighteenth century that the jackass was
introduced; cattle, sheep, horses, and hogs long preceded them.

Rain falls at Castano only for three weeks, or so, during the year,
about the early part of May; the dust is consequently very deep and
fills the air at the slightest atmospheric movement. The general view
is broken now and again by the Spanish bayonet tree, ten or twelve feet
in height, and by broad clusters of grotesque cactus plants, which
thrive so wonderfully in spite of drought, hanging like vines along the
base of the adobe cabins and creeping up their low sides, the leaves
edged here and there by a dainty ruffle of scentless yellow flowers.
Beside a very lowly mud cabin was a tall oleander, branches and leaves
hidden in gorgeous bloom, imparting a cheerful, joyous aspect even amid
all this squalor and poverty. Close at hand upon the adobe wall hung a
willow cage imprisoning a tropical bird of gaudy plumage; but the
feathered beauty did not seem to have any spare notes with which to
greet us. From another cabin came the pleasant sound of a guitar,
accompanied by a human voice. So this people love birds, flowers, and
music. The half-effaced image of God must be still upon their hearts!
The little town has four or five broad, unpaved streets, and is as
primitive as nature herself in all its domestic surroundings.

Except on the immediate line of the railways, one may travel thirty or
forty miles in almost any part of Mexico without seeing a
dwelling-house. The people live mostly in towns and cities, and are very
little dispersed over the country, that is, compared with our own land.
Occasional