306 THE BOOK OF A NATURALIST 
to the manner born. Lamb cutlets with a nice 
big potato on the plate were placed before her, 
also a cup of tea, for in those days tea was drunk 
at every meal. After a glance round to see how 
eating was managed in these novel conditions, she 
began on the cutlets, and presently my little sister, 
anxious to guide her, called attention to the un- 
tasted potato. She looked at it, hesitated a moment, 
then, taking it up in her fingers, dropped it into 
her tea-cup! The poor girl had never seen a boiled 
potato before and had never had a cup of tea, and 
had just made a guess at what she was expected 
to do. We youngsters exploded with laughter and 
our elders smiled, but the girl kept her balance— 
not a flush, not a change in her countenance. 
“Oh, you must not do that!” cried my sister. 
“You must eat the potato with the cutlet on the 
plate, with salt on it.” 
And Juanita, turning towards her little hostess, 
replied in a quiet but firm tone: “I prefer to eat 
it this way.” And in this way she did eat it, first 
mashing it up, stirring it about in the tea, making 
a sort of gruel of it, “not too thick and not too 
thin,” then eating it with a spoon. 
This singular presence of mind and faculty of 
keeping their dignity under difficulties is, I imagine, 
an instinct of all uncivilised people, and is in some 
curious way related to the instinct of self-preserva- 
tion, as when they are brought face to face with a 
great danger and are perfectly cool where one would 
expect them to be in a state of confusion and panic. 
