We are installed in the private bungalow of the general manager, of Mexico City, from whom we brought a letter of introduction. We are half way up the foothills; we have a superb view, the beds are comfortable and the fare is good.
This morning we have gone through the mines. Fuel and transportation are here the two problems. This whole region of several hundred miles square is rich in copper and silver, is full of ancient mines, once worked by Indian slaves but now abandoned, since Spanish expulsion and the dawn of liberty.
MINA LA NORIA, MICHOACAN, MEXICO, _December 4th_.
We left the mines of Inguran early Saturday morning. We were up at four-thirty, and by five-thirty had packed and breakfasted, _desayuno_, and _almuerzo_ combined. The traveling Mexican eats early and, while he may take a midday snack, it rarely rises to the dignity of the _comida_, and when the day’s journey is over, like the two morning meals, the _comida_ and _cena_, are united into one. Our breakfast consisted of fried chicken and rice--rice so delicately fried that each grain was encased in a crisp and dainty shell, and each mouthful cracked with relish between your teeth. Eggs are always to be had. In Spain and Cuba an egg is called _huevo_, in Mexico the refinement of language substitutes the word _blanquillo_ (little whitey). It is a courtesy to ask your hostess for _blanquillos_. It would be ill-bred to ask her for _huevos_. It is also a courtesy, to say, when you address her, _señorita_. If she protests she is a _señora_, mother of a family and long past the age of a _señorita_, you exclaim “it is impossible,” for since she looks so young, she must be a _señorita_. The blunt American manner which calls an egg a _huevo_, and a dame a _señora_, is regarded as unpardonably rude.
By 5:45 we were climbing down the three hundred feet of mountain side, through the mining village, over an ancient paved roadway about four feet wide, the paving stones set in so firmly between the curbs that the floods and wear of the centuries and seasons have left it as intact and solid as when first laid. The Spaniards built many such roadways to their mines, when they worked the Indians as slaves, centuries ago. The mining village was picturesque. The miner, when he goes to work, builds his own house and pays no rent. The walls are upright poles and the roof is a palm leaf thatch. When he quits his job he abandons his house, although he sometimes carries away the roof. Near each dwelling is built a sort of Dutch oven of clay, making an oven and stove combined. In it the bread is baked; upon it most of the cooking is carried on. Housekeeping is a simple process in this tropical land.