::::::::s*g TWO BIRD -LOVERS IN MEXICO W^^ 



face, wondering if a single living thing could endure 

 the bitterness of the earth and air. In the distance 

 moved the whirlwinds of dust, tall, thin columns with 

 perfectly distinct outlines, undulating slowly here and 

 there — both life and death in their silent movement. 

 A distant vaquero is the focus of a great cloud of white 

 dust raised by his horse's hoofs. Pools of dark water 

 with white, crystalled edges now appeared, the liquid 

 seeming little different from the solid plain. 



Most remarkable it seemed to us when a Great Blue 

 Heron now and then Hew silently up from the desert 

 and Happed slowly out of sight. What could possibly 

 attract these birds to such a place of death as this — 

 distant even from the bitter pools ? Twice a great ebony 

 raven sailed croaking through the dusty air over our 

 heads — the same bird repassing. No other life was 

 visible save the balanced black specks against the blue, 

 as invariably a })art of the Mexican day as the stars are 

 of the night. Herons, vultures, and raven all moved 

 slowly, seeming less alive than the distant columns of 

 dust. 



But we felt the real S})irit of the eternal desert when, 

 as we turned to retrace our steps, we spied a something 

 white, a something different from the surrounding 

 earth, and the spell of past ages fell upon us. The 

 bitter water was ever drying up, the whirlwinds carried 

 the dust from place to place, the birds came and went 

 as they pleased, but this relic of an elephant of the 

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