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Inspecting
gold mines in Halifax, Nova Scotia. A mission to Mexico. Visit to San
Francisco Mine on great Mexican plateau. My wife joins me in trip to Mexico
City. The "Hotel Zaragossa." An army for an escort to the Governor of
Pueblo's mine. Zapotitlan and the Governor's banquet. Manana. The return. My
wife tells of her experience while alone in Mexican City.
With
the closing of the Ajo, I was summoned to New York for consultation with Mr.
Ward, the leading spirit of our syndicate. On my arrival, I was asked to make an
examination of a gold mine near Halifax, Nova Scotia, This was very agreeable to
me, as I had always wanted to visit the northern part of the country and inspect
the operation of their mines. The property I was to examine lay about eighteen
miles from Halifax, and the owner of the mine accompanied me from New York.
We
took the New York Central to Boston, a steamer to Halifax, a slow train, and
finally a long drag in a spring wagon to reach the mine. We stopped for the
night at a farmhouse, and I was in shape for a hearty meal and a
good night’s sleep. The farmhouse was surrounded by a stonewall topped
with broken glass bottles, and flower beds all about. The house was of red
brick, and the walls were covered with a heavy growth of ivy. Half-opened
lattices peeped through the greenery at Intervals, and a massive atone chimney
reared its crest above the roof. The farmer and his wife were English and very
cordial in their welcome. Of course I was more than pleased to see the interior
of a cottage that reminded me so vividly of the old country. We were hungry, and
as we sat in the cozy room with the big logs glowing in the open fire place, a
tankard of old ale beside us, and the odor of a pot roast to tickle our
nostrils, I for one felt at peace with the whole world.
The
next morning a ride of two miles in the spring wagon took us to the mine, and
for the rest of the afternoon I explored the drifts and shafts, crawled through
the stopes, and chipped samples of the gold bearing rock from the vein. I also
panned the fine sands and gave the mine much more than the usual inspection. The
day passed quickly, and it was long after dark before our buggy left us at a
hotel on one of the streets of Halifax leading down to the waterfront. The
steamer carried me to Boston the following morning, and I was soon back in New
York with my bags of samples and notes for an elaborate report.
When
I returned to the Mills Building, a commission awaited me
to go to Old Mexico to examine and report on some
mining properties which the syndicate had been operating for some time
with indifferent success. Two of these mines were in the state of Durango.
The Mine Grande near Torreon
was the first one visited, and then the Purissima in the southern part of the
state. Neither justified the expenditure that was being made upon them, so on my
unfavorable report the syndicate closed them down and gave them to the
superintendents as presents. The third mine was situated near the Pacific Coast
and was called the San Francisco. To reach this mine meant a long horseback ride
from Durango, with a pack train carrying the supplies. We passed through
Santiago Papasquiero (which in English means "St. James, some
potatoes") and spent a night at Topia, where I went through the Peria Mine,
which had one of the most continuous and uniform veins of galena ore I have ever
seen. The drift was 1400 meters in length, with a solid streak of lead ore the
entire distance and assaying high in silver. It was offered to me for $20,000
Mexican money, which was a wonderful bargain, and I wired my syndicate to buy
it, but they refused. Two years later I saw an item in a mining journal that La
Perla at Topia had been sold to an English company for $900,000 in gold.
From
Topia we descended from the great Mexican, plateau into a nest of foothills,
where we found the San Francisco Mine perched on a ridge overlooking the Pacific
and close to a village of the same. There had been but little work done on the
claim, although the vein showed a large body of chalcopyrite, which in a more
accessible location would be pay ore.
The men of the village were an ugly
lot and seemed to resent my presence. They carried guns around with them, and
followed my every movement. I was something of a shot myself, having won several
prizes at the shooting ranges of the British navy. To show them a sample of my
skill I put on a shooting exhibition. My companion would toss tomato cans and
bottles into the air, and my bullets would invariably hit the mark. After
that their courtesy knew no bounds, but I still suspected the place to be more
of a bandit’s hideout than a modest mining camp. This property too was
abandoned on my recommendation to the syndicate, and then I took the return
trails.
Soon
after my return to the city of Durango, I received a visit from a Senor
Gonzales, who said he represented the governor of the State of Puebla; that he
knew of my reputation as a mining
engineer; and that he wished to interest me in procuring capital for the
governor's mine. He said that the property was
situated near Zapotitlan, in the
state of Puebla; that it had not less than 100,000 ton of 14% copper ore in
sight; and that he would guarantee not only my expenses but that his
statements were absolutely correct. This appearing to be a reasonable
proposition, I telegraphed Mr. Ward in New York for permission to make the trip,
and he wired back to go ahead.
My
wife was then visiting in Washington and I sensed a pleasant experience for her,
so I wired her to come with me. We met at San Antonio, Texas,
and together took the train for Mexico City, where we stopped at the
Hotel Iturbide, a very old and historic hostelry. We did not find it extremely
comfortable. It was early in the spring and the weather was cold, especially at
night. Our room was unusually large and there was no way to heat it. On the
center table was a huge coal-oil lamp, and this we proceeded to burn all the
time. Each of the four corners of our room was adorned with a cuspidor. There
was also one on each side of the bed - in fact, all the houses are profusely
decorated with them, as every one bows to Lady Nicotine. The maids who did the
chamber work were men, who were not particular in their vocation.
There
was no cafe connected with the hotel, so we foraged around for our meals. The
restaurants were very inferior in character, and decidedly unattractive. The
cooking was poor and not at all appetizing. However, we made some discoveries
and managed to sustain life. There is a fire-and-brimstone quality about the
food in Mexico that would blister the internal organs of a salamander.
Mexico
City itself is interesting. Only a few motorcars had up to that time made their
appearance, but the carriages of the aristocracy were drawn by the most
beautiful horses in the world. The drives and parks about the city are most
charming. The quaint and ancient cathedrals, the old palatial dwellings with the
inevitable patio, with the Castle of Chapaltepec over towering the city from its
eminence, give the scene an atmosphere quite in line with its antiquity.
My
arrangements included an excursion to the mining property with the two sons of
Governor Saltillo, one a member of the Mexican Congress
and the other a doctor, both of whom made their homes in the city. They
met us at the appointed time, and we took the train, which runs between Mexico
City and Vera Cruz. Fifty miles east we changed
to a narrowing jerkwater road which ran north, and after twenty-five miles of
slow travel we arrived at a peon hamlet, from which we were to take saddle
horses for a thirty-five mile ride to the mine.
It
was dusk when we alighted at the
station, and the landlord of the "hotel" where we were to stop met and
escorted us to the edifice. The sign "Hotel Zaragossa" was so immense
that it covered the entire building, but the hotel was a small shanty with no
windows. Ushered into our bedchamber, we found it small, cold as ice, with a
coal-oil can half full of charcoal for a stove, which we lost no time in
starting. The furniture consisted of two iron cots opposite each other, with no
sheets and only a single blanket on each, a clumsy table with a washbowl,
a tiny pitcher half full of water, one wooden chair, and the usual complement of
cuspidors. This cozy boudoir was of course without windows.
The
landlady was dumpy woman of Spanish origin; the landlord a Mexican, tall and
brigandish, who wore the tightest of trousers, the brightest of striped blankets
around his shoulders, and a huge sombrero. The chef was a filthy squaw, and the
food – well, it was commensurate with the surrounding.
We
awoke to see the rain in a downpour, and not wishing to subject my wife to such
weather, we agreed that she should remain while I made the trip to the mine.
A
party of horsemen gathered together by the Senors Saltillo were to accompany us
as an escort. The riders were political adherents of the governor, and eager to
do him honor. At the first village I telephoned back to my wife, telling of our
progress, while the escort, now being joined by additional riders, were regaling
themselves with liquid and other refreshments, of which there was an abundance.
When we left that village our little army had increased to sixty-men.
The
weather had cleared, and another fifteen miles brought us to Chalito, a larger
town, almost a city, with cathedrals, town halls, quaint dwelling surrounded by
orange trees loaded with fruit, coffee bushes in bloom, and flowers everywhere.
A banquet hall, large enough to accommodate the entire escort, had been prepared
by the local politicos, and the tables were spread with a lunch that included
the choicest of wines and cigars. Such munificence was a revelation to me, as it
was my first experience with Mexican hospitality.
Another
squadron was added to our party at this place, so that we now tallied up an
escort of one hundred and fifty men. The road led to the summit of a low range
of hills, form the top of which we looked down upon the Valley of Zapotitan. I
thought this scene was the most beautiful in Mexico. The valley was enclosed by
two spurs from the main range, and was probably four miles across, through which
a rippling, silvery river extended as far as the eye could reach. Arched bridges
spanned the stream at intervals, wherever a hacienda appeared, and the entire
country was in bloom with fruit orchards, coffee plantations, and banana fields,
providing a setting that was a delight to the eye.
Along
the floor of the valley, paralleling the river, was a wide roadway paved with
cobblestone, and in the distance I saw another cavalcade of horsemen coming in
our direction. It was Governor Saltillo of the State of Puebla, with his escort.
We met, and after our greetings were over, we joined his cavalry. It was quite a
company that cantered into the city of Zapotitlan, eight horses abreast, with
the governor at the head and myself at the right. As we rode up the band in the
Plaza struck up “The Washington Post” march. It was a remarkable reception
and could not have been improved upon had I been prince of royal degree.
Halting
in front of a long building, a mozo sprang to my horse’s head; another took my
foot from the stirrup and assisted me to alight. I was conducted to a small
house where an apartment had been prepared. One mozo served as a valet; another
brought in hot water for a bath. Refreshments were placed on the table, and I
was left alone. Reflecting on the wonderful journey and my reception, I deeply
regretted having left my wife behind in that dismal Zaragossa shack while I was
having the time of my life.
Soon
an escort called upon me to join the Governor at a banquet in the great hall
where we had halted are arrival. The party was already seated at the long
tables, while I, as the guest of honor, was next to the governor. The food was
deliciously cooked and served, and here I learned that to enjoy real Mexican
cooking one has to be entertained by one of the Old Spanish grandees, below
Mexico City. Wine flowed and the choicest cigars were handed around, while the
Mexicans expounded their political views until near midnight, when Senor
Saltillo invited me to a seat on the Plaza, where the band had been playing the
entire evening. The bandmaster asked me if I could suggest something for them to
play, and I mentioned a few selections, which they immediately rendered. I
retired to my apartment shortly afterwards, and a mozo slept outside my door on
guard.
The
next morning, after breakfast, I took a walk about town. It was a quaint old
place, full of interest and none of the squalor that one sees in the towns
further north. The people were clean looking, and while there were no such
things as modern conveniences, the houses looked neat and well kept. Each home
had its little garden and orchard, and the walks were lined with flowers. The
governor’s home was not palatial in size, but it was a two-story building set
in a commodious patio enclosing artistic fountains and beautiful gardens.
The
whole town turned out to see us as we prepared to go to the mines, which were
three miles away. In addition to the governor and myself, only twenty-five of
the party went with us. At the mine a brush house had been prepared, fully
furnished, and with kitchen arrangements equal to any in the country. I was
eager to see the mine, and acquainted the governor with my desire, but he said
manana would be time enough, and I must rest. There was nothing to do but put in
the time the best I could. The same excuse was offered the next day, but on the
third day I insisted on seeing the mine or else I would have to leave. This
brought acquiescence on the part of the governor, and I climbed down the ladder
to the workings.
What
I saw was a great disappointment to me. Instead of a vein of ore, there was
exposed a quarry of barren rock which had been excavated beside a ledge that
formed a wall, and on a beach was a small mound of copper ore that I could have
put in my Gladstone bag. About a hundred feet away was a tunnel, from which
peons were carrying baskets of white muck, which I examined and found to be
quite innocent of any mineral content. With effort I disguised my chagrin while
I pretended to be pleased with the proposition. I reasoned that while the
governor and his sons appeared to be gentlemen, yet I was a lone American far
from civilization, and the zeal of the rest of the crowd might be put to the
test of it were known that I was going to turn down their chief’s mine.
The
rest of the day I prowled around the estate, chipping off pieces of the
different rocks, taking photographs, one of which showed the governor and
several others with outstretched arms showing the width of the “deposit,”
and making every effort in my power to discover something which would make it
possible for me to conscientiously give a favorable report to my syndicate.
The
evening was spent much the same as the others, dinner lasting to nine o’clock,
and the interval before bedtime filled with wine and cigars. The next was again
a day of rest. The old cry of “Manana” seemed to be a chronic affliction,
and no amount of argument had any effect. They could not understand that time
was any object to me, and “tempo fugit” had no place in their lexicon. We
finally got into the saddle again, and with many “Adios, Senors” we bade
farewell to Zapotitlan. On the way back I had much the experience as in coming,
leaving the sections of my army in each town as I passed through.
My
wife had not been having a very gay time during my absence, and had this story
to tell me:
“After
you left and the rain had subsided, I took a walk through the village. As I
passed along the street every man I met absolutely swept the earth with his
sombrero, for there is an old-time grace about these vagabonds and an air of
great gallantry. The houses of the village are low huts, where one has to double
up like a jackknife to enter. I went about making friends among the poor,
ignorant people, uttering a few Spanish words and listening to their excited
replies, of which I understand not a word.
“Not
being a bat, and since there is no window in my room, I have been compelled to
leave the door open in order to see. The women have congregated there to watch
me make my toilet. They shyly enter sometimes and handle loving my hat, gloves
and wearing apparel. They all call me “Senorita,” as they do not think I
have any “esposo” because I have been alone. No American woman unaccompanied
has ever stopped here; hence I am as good as a circus, and they regard me with
curiosity. One of the station agents has become alarmingly attentive and pursues
me everywhere with a Spanish-English conversation book, which he gravely
consults when he attempts to address me.
“The
dirt that I must have devoured while here is appalling. The “kitchen”
adjoins my room, and the “stove” consists of an excavation in the dirt floor
with a hole in the roof through which the smoke is supposed to escape. Here on a
flat rock they make the tortillos and torpopos, and toast them amid smoke and
grime. Hauvas frietas, frijoles, and other atrocious concoction, together with
café con lache, have formed my diet. Upon seeing a dog lapping a drink from the
water pail that is used by the family, I insisted that the water be thrown out
and a fresh substituted. This caused them to laugh, as it seemed funny to see me
so particular.
“Your
return is hailed with joy, I assure you! I have been here six days and it seems
like six centuries, I have nearly forgotten how to speak English in struggling
for so long to make myself understood in Spanish, and all night I have murmured
“Muy frio! Muy frio!”
The
next morning we left the city of Zaragossa. The dumpy landlady embraced my wife;
the landlord embraced me; the squaw cook chattered some kind of jargon most
feelingly; and the entire population escorted us to the station. There my wife’s
admirer, the station agent, took leave of her. He hung on to the platform of the
car until his neck was endangered when he jumped off, and the last we saw of him
was a dark, frantic figure waving his sombrero and crying, “Adios, Senore!
Adios, Senora!”
On
our arrival in Mexico City, I wrote the governor a letter, giving him a copy of
my report of my examination of his mine, and regretting my inability to interest
my friends in its financing. On account of the royal treatment which he accorded
me, I felt my situation to be somewhat difficult, and I made no attempt to
collect the guarantee.
Having
nothing further to detain me in Mexico, my wife and I began our return to the
States by easy stages, stopping in Durango, Torreon, Agua Caliente, and finally
reaching the border at El Paso we boarded the Southern pacific and in due time
reached New York. |
