MR E. L. WINTHROP of New York was on vacation in the republic of Mexico. He left the beaten track and found himself one day in a little Indian village somewhere in the state of Oaxaca.
Walking along the dusty main street of this pueblecito, which knew nothing of pavements, drainage, plumbing, or of any means of artificial light save candles or pine splinters, he met with an Indian squatting in the front porch of a palm hut.
The Indian was busy making little baskets from bast and from all kinds of fibres gathered from the immense tropical bush which surrounded the village. The material ...
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