Evening Republican, Volume 15, Number 48, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 25 February 1911 — “SPOKE THE ENGLISH” [ARTICLE]

“SPOKE THE ENGLISH”

BUT MEXICAN WAt NOT A FLU. ENT CONVERSATIONALIST. Schoolmaster’s Knowledge of Language Decidedly Limited, 8o That He , Was Not the Acquisition That Had Been Hoped. The wonderful old Aztec town of Mexcaltatan, the “Mexican Venice," la built in the form of a cart-wheel, with its plaza for hub and, for spokes, canals, bordered with huts, radiating out to an outer rim of water. Mr. Dillon Wallace, traveling recently “Beyond the Mexican Sierras.” not only found Mexcaltatan most picturesque, but experienced there that pleasurable thrill that always comes on meeting some one in a foreign land who can speak one’s own language. The conversational results are given below. Very entrancing the little town look]ed as approached. The sun was just dropping behind the lagunas, lighting the tops of graceful cocoanut-palms that rose high above the plaza, and setting on fire the red-tiled roofs of gray huts below, while the musky car nals lay in deep and somber shadow. A bit of old Mexico, solitary and alone, untouched and unmarred by the march of civilization, It seemed to breathe something of the mystery of forgotten days. Afterward we went to a fish breakfast at the hut which was the hotel; a guest was at table when we entered, who proved to be a school-teach-er from Topic. He rose, and extending his hand to each, greeted us in English: "Good morning! I—am—your—friend.” As we sat down he continued : “I —am —vera —much —hun-gerie I—am—the —school —master.” f It was gratifying to find some one who could speak English, and I was exceedingly pleased to meet him. A schoolmsater he was doubtless a man of some education, and his knowledge of English would enable us to converse with him, and thus learn much of our surroundings that we should otherwise miss. “How large a school have you senor?” I asked, by way of opening the conversation. “I—count —lt —forty-one,” he answered, with great precision. “A very good school,” I commented, “Have you been teaching here long?” “I —count—it —forty-one.” I looked at him with astonishment. He was not a day over twenty-eight. "Excuse me, how long did you say?” “I—count —it —forty-one.” Then he continued: ““I eata —the —meat. I—have —a —sickness.” We then noticed that, instead ol fish, he had a small piece of meat turned very black. “Is that better for your ailment than fish?" I inquired, beginning to wonder whether he was afflicted with leprosy, not uncommon in some localities ol western Mexico, and feeling a decided interest, for we had all shaken his hand. “I—have—a—sweet—heart—with the —beautiful —eyes,” was his reply. “Ah,” I remarked, “that must be very pleasant.” “I—likes—it—here.” And this was the limit of the schoolmaster's English, except “Good-by, I—am —your —friend,” which was repeated’to each of us as we departed.