A YOUNG NATURALIST. 93 



" God makes them grow here," said the child. 



" Not at all, Chanito ; God created them, but the devil 

 has sown them on these mountains. I have travelled on 

 the large plateau, where there are whole forests of pines, 

 which proves that it was only for spite that they grow on 

 this ascent." 



Fortunately Lucien only half believed what the Indian 

 said, and very soon asked me all about it. 



" The pines," I replied, " are trees of the North, which 

 never grow well except in cold climates and dry soils. If 

 PEncuerado had been acquainted with the history of his 

 ancestors, he would have been able to give you some better 

 information about them ; he would have known that, in the 

 Aztec mythology, they were sacred to the mother of the 

 gods, the goddess Matlacueye, who, curiously enough, fills 

 the part of Cybele among the Greek goddesses, whose fa- 

 vorite tree was also the pine." 



Just at this moment we were passing close to a giant 

 of the forest, which had been broken by a squall of wind; 

 from three or four cracks in its trunk a transparent resin 

 ran trickling out. Lucien, thinking these globules were 

 solid, wished to take hold of one of them ; but his fingers 

 stuck to it. 



" I fancied," said he, " that turpentine was obtained by 

 crushing the branches of the pine-tree, just as they crush 

 the stems of the sugar-cane." 



" You were wrong, then," I answered. " The Indians, 

 in the forests where they manufacture it, content them- 

 selves with cutting down the tree within a foot of the 

 ground ; the resin at once begins to ooze out, and gradual- 

 ly fills the leathern bottles placed to receive it. As soon 

 as the resin ceases to flow, they cut the tree up into fagots 

 for the use of the inhabitants of the towns, or the Indians 

 living on plains, whose poor dwellings often possess no 



