were now on their way to Juchitan.  We never before realized that such travelling of ox-carts as we were now experiencing was a regular matter, and that the carter’s trade is a real business.  At two o’clock, we stopped to repack our loads, but were shortly on the way again.  After the sun rose, we were in misery; the road was deep with dust, and we were grimy, hot, and choking.  When the cross that marks the beginning of the land belonging to Ixhuatlan was pointed out, we were delighted, but it was still a long ride before we crossed the little stream and rode into the village.

Ixhuatlan is like all the Zapotec towns of this district, but less clean, on account of its lying in the midst of dust, instead of sand.  Our carts drew up in a little grove, a regular resting-place for carting companies, where more than fifteen were already taking their daytime rest.  Having ordered breakfast, we hastened to the stream, where all enjoyed a bath and cleansing.  Coffee, bread, tortillas, eggs, and brandied peaches, made a good impression, and we ordered our buxom young Zapotec cook, who was a hustler, to have an equally good dinner ready at 2:30.  We set this hour, believing that she would be late, but she was more than prompt, and called us at two to a chicken dinner.  It was interesting to watch the carreteros in the grove.  The scenes of starting and arriving, packing and unpacking, chaffing and quarreling, were all interesting.  In the lagoons of Vera Cruz, our boatmen applied the term jornada to a straight stretch across a lagoon made at one poling; here among the carreteros, the word jornada means the run made from resting-place to resting-place.  In neither case is strict attention paid to the original meaning of the word, a day’s journey.  Ixhuatlan is a made town; a paternal government, disturbed over the no progress of the pure Juaves in their seaside towns, set aside the ground on which this town now rests, and moved a village of Juaves to the spot.  High hopes were expressed for the success of the experiment; now, however, the town is not a Juave town.  It is true, that a few families of that people still remain, but for the most part, the Juaves have drifted back to the shore, and resumed their fishing, shrimp-catching and salt-making, while the expansive Zapotecs have crowded in, and practically make up the population of the place.  Between dinner and our starting, we wandered about the village, dropping into the various houses in search of relics.  As elsewhere, we were impressed with the independent bearing and freeness of the Zapotec woman.  She talks with everyone, on any subject, shrewdly.  She loves to chaff, and is willing to take sarcasm, as freely as she gives it.  In one house we had a specially interesting time, being shown a lot of things.  The woman had some broken pottery figures of ancient times, but also produced some interesting crude affairs of modern make from Juchitan.  These were figures of men and women—­the