the plans of press representatives from other lands, beside thrice postponing the Congress date from that originally scheduled for June 1944. Thus there was no newspaperman present from the great country of Brazil; none from Argentina and Chile; and only two from Mexico.

On the other hand, only three countries were wholly unrepresented. There were, including the two-score delegates accredited by Venezuela and representing its provincial as well as capital press, some 125 delegates attending. To compensate for the imbalance of delegations, balloting was established on the basis of one vote to each country represented.

It was the distinction, as well as the size, of the Colombian delegation which, more than any other factor, led to the selection of that country, among three inviting nations, as the place for the Fourth Congress.

This is not the medium in which to attempt analysis or exposition of the press problems raised, of the steps taken to meet them, or of the efforts to give continuity and substance to the Inter-American Press Society. More readers may be interested in the good neighborly aspects.

Venezuelan hospitality was lavish and thoughtful. Red tape was slashed to expedite the entry of the delegates, a formal program of entertainment was scheduled

which alone would have taxed energies, and in addition individuals and government were constantly alert to gratify the slightest suggestion of a wish on the part of anyone for more insight into and enjoyment of Venezuela.

Although the four-language division of the hemisphere (Spanish was the tongue used for maximum convenience although not by formal rule) naturally made participation in floor debates unequal, no language barrier hampered the general feeling of fellowship and neighborliness. Many Latin American newspapermen, by study or travel, were able and willing to put a linguistic crutch under faltering North Americans, but it was not unusual during the week of intensive and intimate collaboration for one with English as his sole vehicle to find himself at ease in a Spanish-speaking circle or for one limited to Spanish to find himself sharing an automobile with those voluble only in English.

Of course, as travelers well know, English has such a place in the public education curriculum of Venezuela and business and social interchange has been so long in progress on a large scale that a North American can wander anywhere in Caracas and find volunteer interpreters on every hand, who show no apparent impatience with the tongue-tied stranger.

PEPE stood between two rocks that jutted into the Lake, his dugout at his feet. The heavens above and the still waters below had become as one-the interior of a global orb of stars. In the center of this glistening universe he stood alone on his native Island, waiting, with body undefiled. His Indian ancestors from the dim past had handed down standards of clean living. He had obeyed their rules. Now he was allowed to obey the fires of nature surging through his veins. A response already had been awakened in another young Tarascan, Asunción. She too had obeyed her people's laws, and now instinct told her the time for marriage had come. In the silence of her home she waited.

Their courtship had been short and limited, for they were Indians and young. The urge of youth for youth needs few words or romantic actions to reach a mutual understanding. As children many times they had passed each other by, unnoticing. Then one day as he ducked under a fish net hung up to dry, he met her, and his hand touched her bare arm. The spark was lighted. Later when they met, smiles were exchanged; another time he followed her and gently pulled her skirt. Her answer was a giggle as she slipped away. From then on instinct told. them that they were paired for each other.

Extract

Copyright 1945 by Eben F. Comins. from a book in preparation "The Brown Thread"; "Indians through the Eyes of an Artist." The names used in this story are imaginary

The BULLETIN has been privileged on previous occasions to publish articles by Mr. Comins and reproductions of some of his other portraits of Indians. See "Indians that I have drawn," BULLETIN, July 1939, "Five drawings of Mexican Indians," January 1941; "The Atl-atl," August 1943; and "Cuatlicue," November 1943.

Finally he said he would come some night and take her. That night had come. Instinct also told him the hour was half-way between sunset and midnight—the hour that had been chosen in past ages for a man to set forth on life's new adventure to be shared with another.

Silently he stepped into the boat; he lifted his paddle, then let it dip into the water. The effect was of a gigantic ladle, so large it played havoc with the universe; constellations were broken into atoms. Antares, the ruby star, was torn from the heart of Scorpio, and flung into inverted Virgo's lap. But Pepe had no eyes for stars; his were riveted on land, to the little home resting atop a rocky shelf above. Up the dark paths he strode, stopping before a house that glowed a phosphorescent white. He softly ticked on the door. There was no answer: again, and there was no answer. Then again, and the door was closed hardly before it was open. Champing like a young bull he resented further delay. At the fourth tick the door opened and a pair of eyes showed a timid smile. It came from Asunción. As the door started to close, he stepped forward and blocked the closure; his hand shot in, took her hand and pulled her out. It was

none too soon for her to know that he was her man and must be obeyed. Standing still for a few moments, their eyes met; she caught his meaning. It was enough. He turned and was on his way; she followed. At the boat she slumped into the bottom afraid; there were few smiles now. No words were spoken as they rounded the point. He landed between the same two rocks from which he had started. He had obeyed the tradition of the Island that the

man go for and bring back his chosen by water no matter how short the distance. He got out; she followed him. Before his home they paused; he knocked this time with decision-again and then again. Presently it was opened; his mother filled the door. She looked at them both with an all-knowing, half-angry smile-for she must act her disapproval at what was going on-then put forth her hand, took Asunción's, pulled the child in and closed the door in Pepe's face. Rebuffed, he stood outside but did not force admission. He could now afford to wait.

Asunción had already begun her trial for approval. In the dark room the mother found her mat on the floor and sinking down upon it, motioned the girl to follow. She must now sleep with her mother-in-law to be. Timid little soul, she slipped to the same mat, keeping as far as possible from the other's form lest she disturb it. AH through the night she remained awake. Those eyes that once had smiled at Pepe now shone with fear. From out of the blackness she saw a square of stars; it was the open window that, as in all Tarascan homes, had never known a sash or pane of glass. A flickering glow, filling one corner of the room, came from the rounded adobe oven, and beside it a dying fagot, stuck in a clumsy adobe candlestick, sputtered sparks and sent forth a pungent, piny smoke. As she grew used to the dark, more familiar objects took the same places as she had seen them take in her own home. In another corner great skeins of fish nets were hooked over a sturdy pole braced corner-wise under the eaves and flowed downward like a waterfall. Over her head, on planks under the roof, she knew were stored the ears of corn that in time she would help grind for tortillas. Scattered over the floor were the silent forms of Pepe's brothers and sisters. Missing was the one of his father. As it was night, he was away on the Lake fishing.

The next day the whole community was agog with gossip. Pepe had kidnapped Asunción. Her family pretended to be enraged. Had not their prize daughter been stolen! Had they not lost the best tortilla maker in the village! To appease this anger, Pepe's parents collected food, clothes and charanda (that potent drink made from raw sugar), and on the third night at nine. o'clock they appeared at the door of the incensed parents bearing these royal gifts. At first their knocks went unheeded, but finally the door was opened by the angry father, and they were permitted to enter. The mother was in the throes of grief. Though her heart was breaking, her eyes were able to appraise the many presents. When the bottle of liquor was presented and opened, father's wrath subsided and mother dried her eyes. It was good charanda, so perhaps after all Pepe was not such a bad boy; but they must not forget their daughter deserved the best. As the liquor continued to flow, good will spread over all, and by midnight they parted on friendly terms. A few nights later Asunción's parents repeated the giftbearing ceremony to Pepe's parents. At this session details were discussed for the children's welfare. Later laboratory tests were made of the couple's blood by a doctor, to comply with government rules. A certificate of a clean bill of health was given them.

Then came the fateful day, the day of marriage, the day of the three ceremonies. Early in the morning, Pepe and Asunción made a striking picture as they got into their respective dugouts. He looked every inch a fisherman in his best white cotton shirt with pleated bosom, and wrap-around trousers tied with a crimson sash. She looked like some native flower in her elaborately embroidered waist and trailing vermilion skirt with its many pleats. With pride she wore her finery which had been worn by her mother and grandmother at their wed