Aztec Land by Maturin Murray Ballou (i have read the book TXT) 📖

beside the canal for a considerable distance, the banks of which are shaded here and there by drooping willows and rows of tall Lombardy poplars. How old the canal is, no one can say; it certainly antedates the period of the Conquest. The straw-thatched, Indian, African-looking town of Santa Anita is a curiosity in itself, surrounded by the floating islands, which we are soberly told did really float centuries ago. "Here they beheld," says Prescott, "those fairy islands of flowers, overshadowed occasionally by trees of considerable size, rising and falling with the gentle undulations of the billows." One does not like to play the _role_ of an iconoclast, but probably these islands were always pretty much as they are to-day. The "floating" idea is a poetical license, and was born in the imaginative brain of the Spanish writers. Had Prescott ever seen them, he would doubtless have come to the same conclusion. "Hanging" gardens do not necessarily depend from anything, "floating" islands need not necessarily float. They really have the appearance of buoyancy to-day, and hence the figure of speech which has been universally applied to them. "I have not seen any floating gardens," says R. A. Wilson, author of "Mexico and its Religion," "nor, on diligent inquiry, have I been able to find a man, woman, or child that ever has seen them, nor do I believe that such a thing as a floating garden ever existed at Mexico." They are now anchored to the bottom fast enough, that is certain, being separated from each other and the main land by little narrow canals. The soil of which they are constituted is kept always moist by natural irrigation, and is wonderfully fertile in producing flowers, fruits, and mammoth vegetables. Seed-time and harvest are perennial on these peculiar islands. Men are always ready with a rude sort of boat, which the most poetic imagination cannot dignify into a gondola, but which is so called. These floats are about fifteen feet long, four wide, flat bottomed, with low sides, and have no covering. The boatmen row, or rather pole, the boats through the little canals, giving the passengers a view of the low, rank vegetation on the islands, some of which present a pleasing floral picture, rather curious, but not very interesting. On Sundays and festal days the middle and lower classes of the capital come hither in large numbers to amuse themselves with the tall swings, the merry-go-rounds, and the scowlike boats, to eat dulces at the booths, and to drink inordinate quantities of pulque at the many stands at which it is dispensed at popular prices. The pungent liquor permeates the surrounding atmosphere with its sour and offensive odor. Here one sees numerous groups busy at that besetting sin of the Indians, gambling. It is practiced on all occasions and in all places, the prevailing means being "the wheel of fortune." An itinerant bearing one of these instruments strapped about his shoulders stops here and there, soon gathering a crowd of the curious about him. The lottery-ticket vender drowns all other cries in his noisy search after customers, reaping a large harvest, especially on Sundays, in this popular resort. The old stone church of Santa Anita is a crumbling mass of Moorish architecture, with a fine tower, the whole sadly out of repair, yet plainly speaking of past grandeur.

On the way to these islands by the Paseo de la Viga, we pass through an out-door vegetable market, which is remarkable for the size of some of the specimens offered for sale; radishes were displayed which were as large as beets, also plethoric turnips, overgrown potatoes, ambitious carrots, and broad spread heads of lettuce as big as a Mexican sombrero. There were many sorts of greens for making salads, of which the average Mexican is very fond, besides flowers mingled with tempting fruits, such as oranges, lemons, melons, and pineapples. The latter, we suspect, must have come from as far south as Cordova. Young Indian girls, with garlands of various-colored poppies about their necks, like the natives of Hawaii, offered us for a trifle tiny bouquets made of rosebuds, pansies, violets, tube-roses, and scarlet geraniums, all grown close at hand on these misnamed floating islands. One low, thatched adobe cabin, between the roadway and the canals, in Santa Anita, was covered with a mammoth blooming vine, known here as the _copa de oro_. Its great yellow flowers were indeed like cups of gold, inviting our attention above all the other floral emblems for which the little Indian village is famous. Great quantities come daily from this suburb to supply the city demand, and especially on the occasion of the floral festivals, which have their headquarters in the plaza and the alameda, as elsewhere described.

There is much to be seen and enjoyed in these brief excursions by tramway into the environs of the city. One should not forget to take the cars which start from the west side of the Plaza Mayor, and which pass through the Riviera de San Cosme out to the village of Popotla, where the famous "Noche-triste" tree is to be seen. It is situated about three miles from the plaza. Cortez is said to have sat down under its branches and wept over his misfortunes when he was obliged to retreat from the capital, on the night of July 1, 1520, still known as the "Dismal Night." Whether this story be true or otherwise, it matters very little. Suffice it that this big gnarled tree is held sacred and historic by the citizens, and is always visited by strangers who come to the capital. It is of the cedar family, and its dilapidated condition, together with the size of the trunk, shows its great antiquity. At present it measures ten feet in diameter at the base, with a height exceeding forty feet. Although broken and decayed in many of its parts, it is sufficiently alive to bear foliage. The gray, drooping moss hangs from its decaying branches, like a mourner's veil shrouding face and neck, emblematic of the tears which the daring adventurer is said to have wept in its shadow. An iron railing protects the tree from careless usage and from the knives of ruthless relic hunters. A party of so-called ladies and gentlemen--we are sorry to say they were Americans--broke off some of the twigs of the tree, in 1885, to bring away with them. For this vandalism they were promptly arrested, and very properly fined by a Mexican court. Close by this interesting tree of the "Dismal Night" stands the ancient church of San Esteban.

The practice prevails in the cities of Mexico that one sees in Cuba and in continental Spain, as regards the signs which traders place over their doors. The individual's name is never given, but the merchant adopts some fancy one to designate his place of business. Seeing the title "El Congreso Americana," "The American Congress," we were a little disconcerted, on investigation, to find that it was the sign of a large and popular bar-room. Near by was another sign reading thus: "El Diablo," that is, "The Devil." This was over a pulque shop, which seemed to be appropriately designated. Farther on towards the alameda was "El Sueno de Amor," signifying "The Dream of Love." This was over a shop devoted to the sale of serapes and other dry goods. On the Calle de San Bernardo, over one of the entrances where dry goods were sold, was seen, in large gold letters, "La Perla," "The Pearl." Again near the plaza we read, "La Dos Republics," meaning "The Two Republics." This was a hat store, with gorgeous sombreros displayed for sale. "El Recreo," "The Retreat," was a billiard hall and bar-room combined, while not far away "El Opalo," "The Opal," designated a store where dulces were sold. "La Bomba," "The Bomb," was the sign over a saddle and harness shop. "El Amor Cantivo," "Captive Love," was the motto of a dry goods store. "La Coquetta," "The Coquette," was the title of a cigar shop.

These stores are almost all conducted by French or German owners, with now and then a Jew of uncertain nationality; few are kept by Spaniards, and none by Americans, or citizens of the United States. American enterprise seeks expression here in a larger field. Where a trunk line of railroad a thousand miles or more is demanded, as in the instance of the Mexican Central, they are sure to be found at the front, with capital, executive ability, and the energy which commands success. The surveys for the Mexican railroads demanding the very best ability were made by Americans, the locomotive drivers are nearly all Americans, and more than half the conductors upon the regular railway trains are Americans. The infusion of American spirit among the Mexican people is perhaps slow, but it is none the less sure and steady.

Each sort of business has its distinctive emblem. The butcher always hangs out a crimson banner. In some portions of the town there are painted caricatures on the fronts of certain places to designate their special business. For instance, in front of a pulque shop is found a laughable figure of a man with a ponderous stomach, drinking his favorite tipple. At another, which is the popular drinking resort of the bull-fighters, is represented a scene where a picadore is being tossed high in air from the horns of an infuriated bull, and so on. The names of some of the streets of the capital show how the Roman Catholic Church has tried to impress itself upon the attention of the populace even in the titles of large thoroughfares. Thus we have the Crown of Thorns Street, the Holy Ghost Bridge, Mother of Sorrows Street, Blood of Christ Street, Holy Ghost Street, Street of the Sacred Heart, and the like. Protestants of influence have protested against this use of names, and changes therein have been seriously considered by the local government. As previously explained, some of these streets have been so named because there were churches bearing these titles situated in them.

Friday, the 28th of March, the day of Viernes de Dolores, was a floral festal occasion in and about the city of Mexico. The origin of this observance we did not exactly understand, except that it is an old Indian custom, which is carefully honored by all classes, and a very beautiful one it most certainly is. For several days previous to that devoted to the exhibition, preparations were made for it by the erection of frames, tents, canvas roofing, and the like, in the centre of the alameda and over its approaches. At sunrise on the day designated, the people resorted in crowds to the broad and beautiful paths, roadways, and circles of the delightful old park, to find pyramids of flowers elegantly arranged about the fountains, while the passageways were lined by flower dealers from the country with beautiful and fragrant bouquets, for sale at prices and in shapes to suit all comers. Nothing but a true love of flowers could suggest such attractive combinations. Into some of the bouquets strawberries with long stems were introduced, in order to obtain a certain effect of color; in others was seen a handsome red berry in clusters, like the fruit of the mountain ash. We had observed the preparations, and were on the spot at the first peep of the day. The Indians came down the Paseo de la Reforma in the gray light of the dawn, and stopped beside the entrance to the alameda, men and women laden with fragrance and bloom from all parts of the valley of Mexico within a radius of forty miles from the city. One lot of burros, numbering a score and more, formed a singularly picturesque and novel group. The animals, except their heads and long ears, were absolutely hidden beneath masses of radiant color. Groups of women