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Yol. XY.—No. 32,
NOTES OF TRAVEL. MY LAST paper contained brief mention of most of the larger cities of Mexico except Pueb lo, which is about 160 miles southeast and Gaudalajara about 450 miles west from the City of Mexico. These are places of about 100,000 inhabitants each and are among the nicest cities in Mexico, but I have never been to the latter named place. Chilpancingo, where earthquakes wrought such havoc a few weeks ago, is the capital of the state of Guerero. It is 140 miles south from the City of Mexico and has a population of about 30,000. The important seaports are Tampico and Vera Cruz on the east coast, (Gulf of Mexico) and Acapulco and Guaymas on the Pacific. At al most every railroad station and boat landing travelers are besieged by women and children beggars. The City of Mexico is the one great place of interest in all that country. All Mexican cities are so compactly built that they look to an American to be scarcely more than half as large as they are. The City of Mexico with its almost 400,000 people covers a smaller area and looks smaller than St. Paul with half the population, and yet most of the buildings in Mexican cities have but one and two stories with a sprink ling of three-story buildings. In the City of Mexico three-story buildings are rather common and there are just a few four-storv buildings, but up to the time of my last trip there, two years ago, there were only four or live build ings with four stories. The streets of Mexican cities are nar rower than those of our towns, tho not nearly so narrow as those of some Eu ropean. and almost all Asiatic cities. But every city has at least a few streets that are barely wide enough for two or dinary vehicles to pass, and most of them also have one or two wide streets. Monterey and the City of Mexico both have a boulevard that is as wide as the widest in our cities. No Mexican city has a suburban park, but every city has at least two or three small parks or plazas conveniently and centrally lo cated. The government maintains sev eral large brass bands, one for each of the larger cities, and these play in the plazas on certain evenings of each week, always on Sunday evening, and, in the City of Mexico,Sunday morning and afternoon. These bands move from city to city, superseding one an other every two or three months, ex cepting those in the City of Mexico, which are permanent fixtures. Here the famous Seventh regiment band, now called the presidential band, with its 52 instruments, plays in the Ala meda every Sunday morning from 10 to 12 o’clock and always attracts thou sands of people. This is the celebrated Mexican band that has made two or three tours of our large cities and also played at the World’s Fair in Chicago in 1893. It is acknowledged to be one of the best bands in the world. There are also two military bands in the City of Mexico and one of these plays in the Zocalo every Sunday after noon for the pleasure of the peons, the uncommonly common common people. The Zocalo is the second best plaza, and the peons are not permitted to loiter in the Alameda during the Sunday morning band concerts. But they have full sway in the Zocalo Sun day afternoons, and in fact all day, and and they swarm there by the thousands. The Alameda is a beautiful plaza cov ering an area of two squares north and south and three east and west, with nu merous wide walks, ample seats, foun tains, etc;, and the intervening space is MEXICAN CITIES. covered with, seemingly, every imag inable tropical tree and shrub, many of the trees reaching to enormous heights. This plaza is always cool, and l want to state right here that the City of Mexico is one of the coolest places in summer that I was ever in, and I have been a considerable distance north in British America and Alaska. The hot test day in the City of Mexico in the summer of 1899 was 87 in the shade. This statement will be discredited by most northern readers, but it would be vouched for by the editors of the Mexican Herald and Two Republics, or other reliable citizens, as well as by the government weather bureau. Every night in the Alameda one needed a light overcoat. The American legation is situated just across the street from the west end of the park. The Zocalo is ten squares east and covers an area of two squares each way. On the north of the Zocalo is the cathe dral, covering nearly two squares; on the east the capitol; on the west a mammoth government pawn shop, and on the south mercantile establish ments. In this plaza thousands of peons congregate every Sunday, hun dreds of all kinds of improvised booths are erected, not only throughout the plaza, but along the streets adjacent thereto; scores of men, women and children standing or squatting on the streets and sidewalks, many of them with only a few cents worth of dulces, candies, cakes, fruits or drinks, on lit tle rough trays on their laps or the stone pavement. Besides a grand cathedral costing more than two million dollars, there are 126 churches in the City of Mexico and 95 per cent of the people are mem bers of them. Now I believe the aver age American would naturally think such a place as that could be but a few miles removed from Heaven, but the average American sojourner, be he Christian, agnostic or anything else, in Mexico, as in Spain and France, is struck with what seems to him their corrupt morals, desecration of the Sab bath, sacrilege'and hypocrisy; for so far as he can see they have no regard for any portion of the decalogue; and their version of the command, “Re member the Sabbath day to keep jt holy” seems to be, “Remember the Sab bath day to keep it helly;” for the height of the ambition of most Mexi cans is a Sunday drunk, a Sunday bull fight, and incidentally any other hell that they may come in contact with. The same persons who break their necks to get to church at daylight in the morning would break their necks twice to get to a bull-fight later in the day, and some of them are the “ringlead ers” of the light. I will pay my re spects to the bull-lights of Mexico and Spain in some future paper of this series. Dueling between men is dis honorable, disgraceful, inhuman, bar barous, uncivilized, but it is tame and respectable in comparison with the sickening spectacle presented by the awful torture and butchering to death by slow degrees of a score of poor dumb beasts, some of them being forced by men to gallop around the ring with their entra,ils literally dragging on the ground and trodden under their hind feet. But my first trip to Mexico had the effect of placing me on good terms with myself and cured me of all un easiness as to my spiritual condition; for if those people are on the road to heaven the millions of self-respecting happy-go-luckies and Bob-Ingersollians will go there in golden electric air ships, and when they get there they “IT IS NEVER TOO LATE TO MEAD.” STILLWATER, MINNESOTA, THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 27, 1902. « third * Paper. will find the best front seats in the or chestra reserved for them while those others will have to go way back and stand up. Three miles north from the Zocalo, and just beyond the city limits, is the suburban town of Guadalupe. The Church of Guadalupe has perhaps as great a history, real, mythical, and su perstitious as that of any church in the known world. It is of about the aver age size but it has some grand, curious and ancient furnishings. There are 17 tons of silver on the altar and railings, the latter being composed entirely of solid silver, besides there are tons of other grand and costly curiosities: and all this in a church in which the vast majority of its members worship in the cheapest of garments and dirty rags, with bare feet or sandals, being too poor to buy shoes. . About three rods east of this is a lit tle two-by-four church, just inside the door of which is a spring with a pool of water in the rocks. This water has a saintly taste, and a saintly man who sits beside it expects a tip from those who enter. H. J. B. THE LAW. ’Tis a truth as old as the soul of things— Whatever ye sow ye reap. ! Tls the cosmic law that forever spriDgs From the unimagined deep, ’Tis shown in the manifold sorrowings Of the race; in remorse with its secrets stings; That he who grief brother brings In his turn some day shall weep. To the man who hears his victim's cries And hardens his heart at the sound. At last a Nemesis dread shall rise From out the void profound. Who sows in selfishness, greed and hate Shall gain his deserts in the years that wait, For the slow and remorseless wheel of Fate Forever turns ’round and ’round, If ye give out of mercy and love and light. The sAme shall r’turn to you; For the standards of right are infinite And the scales of the gods are true. By its good or evil each life is weighed; In motives and deeds is Its record made; In the coin ye pay ye shall be repaid. When your wages at last fall due. —J. A. Kdgerton, in Denver News, MUSKELLUNGE AND PICKEREL THE muskellunge and pickerel season is at hand. The mus kellunge and pickerel cranks are pretty apt to tell you there is no sport like the taking of those wily fellows, and we are half in clined ro agree with them, tho like the most of those who spend a good deal of time with the rod and the gun, we think there is nothing like it while the season is on and are just as enthusias tic about the fascinations of the chase when we are in the act of bringing down a deer. But surely the taking of these large gar elish is exciting busi ness, and perhaps more to the mind of the city chaps and fat fellows who are fond of recreation of the sort that does not require much exertion. i'ickerel, of course, are common to nearly all the waters of Minnesota, but in the extreme northern nart of the state they seem to reach a degree of perfection, both in size and flavor, sel dom attained elsewhere. They bite well and are strong fish in the water. Muskellunge are the great game fish of northern waters. They have been taken weighing as high as fifty pounds or more, but are found in but few of the inland lakes of the state. It is a common thing to get them weighing ten to twenty-five pounds, and on ac count of their size they afford the an gler no end of excitement and fre quently narrow escapes. It is no fool’s errand to handle a twenty-five pound fish of the muskellunge species and keep right side up in the small boat at the same time. A good one of the above sort will require from one to three hours to land. Muskellunge are a sort of overgrown pickerel, but are stronger and more gamy. Perhaps my fisher brothers will think this is saying a good deal, but it is nevertheless true. When hooked he will put up a fight for an hour or so, during the first of which he makes great leaps out of the water in his efforts to get away. And this battle against skill and brain is not at all mo notonous. There is something new every second and there is always the terrible fear of losing the fish, while a hundred new problems are presented every minute to the man at the helm. Phychologists have never figured out how many times a fellow thinks a sec ond when he is landing a muskellunge. These large fish take the minnow as well as the spoon, but it is with the former that the largest are usually taken. Minnesota is headquarters for sportsmen who try for these wily fel lows. Strabo. WRECKED. I SHIPPED from Havre, France, to Cardiff, Wales. That takes one down the English channel around Land’s End, into the British channel to Cardiff. About two miles off Land’s End is the Seven Stone lightship, and to the southward and westward of that lightship lies the Sicily islands with the whole broad sweep of the Atlantic to break on them. It was into that narrow chan nel between the lighthouse and Land’s End that we sailed with a light wind from the westward, a beam swell, and the barque in ballast towering out of the water like a barn on a Dakota prairie. I think she was on the own ers’ books to be lost, for the insurance was worth more money to them than the barque. Such things have happened before and will happen again. Sailors are sent to sea in rotten vessels; their ships their coffins and graves, that rich men may be richer. This is not poetry, but it is the truth. Well, to go on with my story. The captain put her into that narrow channel and onto the rocks of Land’s End. and the Atlantic swell did the rest, and did it good. It would pick the barque up and slam her down on those rocks so hard it would make one’s teeth ache,and then it would pick her up and slam her down again. The captain had his wife and child, a little girl of live years, on board, and that made things worse. It was pitch dark when the masts went by the board. We were so close in that the head of the mainmast caught on the cliff, and on that we crawled ashore. But 1 am ahead of my yarn: When the mast went by the board it swept the cap tain's wife overboard and we thought the captain too. The boom missed the child and the mate brought her with him when he crawled ashore. As we climbed the cliff we looked back; between the Hashes of lightning we could see the barque fast going to pieces. Excepting a few things we had stored before shipping, all we owned on earth was in her. And as we stood there wet and weary, one sailor said: “God rest the captain and his wife.” But, faith, the captain was no sailor! With the broad Atlantic before him, nothing would do but that bit of stone “Well, come,” said the mate at last, “it is no use to stand here in the rain. We will look out for some place of shelter and some dry clothes for this child. If there is anything left of the barque the wreckers will get it in the morning.” We saw a lightsome dis tance away which proved to come from a farmhouse. A women let us in. She was a lady of the first water, we thought, but ladies don’t live on farms in merry old England—they are not born that way don’tc^erknow!—but she TERMS- i sl.ooper year, lnadvt nce **•) Six Months 50cents. was a lady all the same. “Come in all of you and dry your clothes,” she said, “and have some beer. There is one poor sailor in here now.” And who should the sailor prove to be but our captain. When the mate saw him he said: “My, but you’re alive! Here’s your kid, and your wife is crushed by the boom and drowned in the sea.” When the captain heard that he said, “You get out of here,” but the lady said, “No, let him stay for the child’s sake.” And she took the little child in her arms. In the morning we went to Fal mouth, the nearest port of any conse quence, but could claim nothing. She was an English barque lost on an Eng lish shore, and under those circum stances the crew gets nothing, provided the vessel is a total loss. The same ap plies to American ships lost cn the American shore; but if you lose an English vessel on the American coast, or an American vessel on the English coast, you can go to your consul and he will give you a new outfit, find you a boardinghouse and another ship; but in both cases you lose all pay due you. Well, I was stranded on the shores of merry England with nothing to make merry with. However, I knew the barque belonged to London and also knew the insurance companies don’t like to pay out money if they can help it, and I thought I could help it and get paid for my clothes; so to London I went with the mate and one more sailor. Then we hunted up the insur ance company and explained matters to them. It was just what they were looking for—a chance to come down on those ship wreckers—so they put the other sailor and me in a boardinghouse; the mate was better cared for, as he was the star witness. Every day we would go to the office and get five shillings—on Saturday ten, five for Sun day—and the company beat the own ers, and we got a five pound note each to fit us out. We couldn’t get a ship in London for every captain in the city had us spotted and they were our enemies, but every sailor in London—or in all the world for that matter—was our friend, and we finally got a ship in Liverpool. SINHAI). During the wait between acts, a med ical student and a young woman who sat together became slightly embar rassed for topics of conversation. Finally and not unnaturally in view of the nature of the young man’s studies their talk drifted to the subject of dis agreeable tasting medicines. Among the horribles they mentioned were cod liver oil and castor oil. “I don't see,” mused the young wom an, “how any one can bear to eat the beans that stuff is made of?” “What kind of beans do you mean?” asked the young man. “Why, cod liver oil beans, to be sure.” “Aren’t you thinking of castor beans?” ventured her companion. “Why, I always thought cod liver oil was made from beans,” she said, and the good breeding of the young man was shown by the fact that he didn’t even smile, but several of those who sat near by hadn’t equal control over their features.—Ex. In the old days a peacock was per haps the most gorgeous and decorative dish on the Christmas board. This was prepared by first carefully remov ing the skin without losing the feath ers. The fowl was then dressed, stuffed with all kinds of good things, roasted and finally sewed into its skin, still retaining the brilliant plum age. The beak was gilded, and this dish, fit for a king, was placed upon the table amid the blare of trumpets and the rapturous applause of the rev elers.—Ex.