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Updated: May 21, 2025
I had intended to purchase the book, but found him so attached to it that I gave up the plan. Had he been a normal man, I should have insisted; but then, if he had been a normal man, he would not have had the book nor known how to read it. From Camotlan we rode steadily for five hours to reach Ixcuintepec. There were considerable stretches of slippery road to be passed.
Leaving at 3:40, the evening ride through the forest was magnificent. The flora was such as we have before described. As we rode through the higher forests, we constantly heard birds, notable among which were the claríns, with their fine clear notes. It was dark before we reached Camotlan. Nowhere had we been better treated.
Passing Camotlan, we entered a magnificent gorge, along one side of which we climbed, passing in front of lovely cascades and having magnificent outlooks. While we were on this trail, we encountered the maestro from Ixcuintepec, who was on his way to Quezaltepec to spend his holiday. A whispered word with his half-brother, our companion, quickly changed his plan, and he accompanied us.
The dialect of Juquila was no doubt then different from that of Camotlan, and during the 170 years there have been great changes, even in that town itself. As I watched the man read from his book, I noticed that he pronounced parts of words differently from the way in which they were spelled; how he had worked out for himself, unaided, the proper meaning and purport of the words was a mystery.
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