THROUGH THE COASTAL WILDERNESS. 229 



but actually produced them, passing them around the table 

 with colossal dignity. 



"That man's a linguist," the Father added; "he speaks 

 English, Spanish and several Indian dialects." 



The good Father's heart was overflowing with kindness 

 toward every living thing. He could not even bear to see 

 his cat waiting hungrily for her breakfast, but ordered his 

 small butler at once to give her some milk. 



We wondered why the Father's Indian boys had such 

 straight, slim, well-proportioned figures, instead of the un- 

 wieldy "cassava-stomachs" so characteristic of the little 

 savage Indians. With a twinkle in his eye the Father told 

 us that his first step in converting the small Indian lad to 

 Christianity was a huge dose of castor oil; then regular hours 

 and regular meals of nourishing food, instead of allowing 

 them to munch cassava all day. Then one might proceed 

 by teaching them the doctrine, and always a useful trade, 

 while after that was achieved there was plenty of time for a 

 more literary education, if the individual warranted it. He 

 had reason to be proud of his method, for in all our travels 

 we never met a missionary whose works "spoke louder" 

 than those of Father Gillett; for the most successful and 

 worthy Indians in the colony had been trained by him. 

 Some of them had become excellent engineers, others priests 

 and still others had learned good trades. 



After breakfast the Father took us through the chapel, 

 followed by his dusky little tribe, all crossing themselves 

 piously before the altar. He showed us with pride the 

 decorations of the altar and the ceiling, all the work of him- 

 self and his little Indians. The ceiling represented the dome 

 of heaven, bright blue, and dotted with a multitude of white 

 stars. 



When we called our little Pedro, the youngest of our In- 

 dian paddlers, to tell Marciano that we were ready. Father 



