MEXICO'S BRIGHTER SIDE

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LIV, Issue 294, 8 June 1912, Page 1 (Supplement)

MEXICO'S BRIGHTER SIDE

PLEASANT WANDERINGS AND MIL!) ADVENTURES. Under circumstances approaching the ideal, Wallace Gillpatrick saw the happiest side of liis life in what was thou the realm of President Diaz, and his hook, "The Man who Likes Mexico." rellecting his cheerful mood, is a delightful account of his leisurely journeys through a land which he describes as then hospitable, gladly welcoming the stranger, peaceful and happy—in verity, the land of guitarstrumming and manana. 'The writer, living in New England, was induced to visit .Mexico through friends in the ancient mining district of Huahuapan. So enamored did he become of the country that he remained six years. His first taste of real life across the border was at Durango, where he witnessed a bullfight. The brutal exhibition he passes over lightly, probably realising that the subject has been written threadbare. Life on the trail in the fastness of the impregnable Sierra stirs in one every drop of Gipsy blood. "Have you ever ridden over the mountains of Mexico on a mule? If not. there is jov before you—provided that you love the mountains, and long days of brilliant sunshine, and cloudless, starlit

nights. 'Choose a mule by all means—a mare makes the best saddle-animal. A Mexican mule takes no chances. If overtaken by darkness, you may drop your bridle rein on your mule's neck, and be perfectly secure in her caution and judgment. Your mozo is nearly always a cheerful, obliging individual, trained to servitude and hardship, expecting little. After a long day's journey he unsaddles the animal, lias a fire blazing in a "jiffy," and cook your supper; while you lie on the ground and stretch your tired legs, inhaling the grateful fumes of meat on the coals. You are ravenous, and for the moment supper is more important than anything else in life. Tf you are provided well, you are soon devouring a steak, broiled as only a mozo can broil, hot tortillas (corn cakes), frijoles (beans). and. perhaps, tamales. Tlien comes a steaming cup of black coffee; and with a pipe or a cigarro for company, you roll yourself in your blankets and "lazily watch the stars, the campfiro. and listen to the wind in the trees, until—you stretch yourself luxuriously with the feeling that you have been asleep, and behold your mozo calmly preparing breakfast. It is four o'clock. You have slept eight solid hours." The mozo, we learn, is generally an honest, dependable fellow, though the writer admits one notable exception, the new guide, who accompanied him the last day of his journey. This mozo had such an inhuman expression that he was men; tally christened "Wolf Face." The usual mode of trail-riding was reversed and the mozo compelled to take and keep the lead, the writer keeping his revolver j within easy reach. Ilis fears were well | founded, it appears:— "One day our storekeeper, who spoke quaint English, reminded me of him. 'The people were all sui'prised that night you asrive,' he remarked; 'they say you bring one very bad peon.' " "Why bad?' I enquired. "■Quien sabe?' he said with a shrug. •They say he has killed some people.' "•What did he kill them for?" I enquired. "•For to rob.' replied the storekeeper. "He is very bad man. He has —how you say it—corazon de lobo'" (the heart of a wolf). Urn pan was in the midst of a boom, "and didn't know whether to bo glad or sorry." However, such tilings move slowly and nobody is worried: "'Seeing some workmen loitering in quite a pretentious building, evidently about half completed, I asked them when it would be finished. Plies quien sabe? It had already been six years under way, and would take at least three more. The senor must realise that it is a question of much time to build so big a house.

LOST MINES. Tales of lost mines of fabulous richness there have been and ever will be. A chapter is devoted to the fascinating story of two of nature's lost treasure vaults. ''La Providencia," discovered by a half-witted boy by accident, and lost through a remarkable landslide which altered the fate of a 'mountain; "El Naanjal." in the middle western part of Durango—both have long been sought by manv men. None has even found them, though an old prospector is introduced who has seen "El Naranjal" from the mountain top. and dreams of the day when he wiil go equipped to actually locate the mine. Mexico's churches are not alone noted for their rich interiors, for the writer tells of remarkable tombs in a crypt in the church of Santa Domingo, at the ancient city of Zacatrcas, containing mummified forms, still life-like, of certain of the sanctified dead of hundreds of years ago: "The most remarkable mummy was in a closed cell, with a small aperture at the top. Peering through this, J saw the form of a priest, standing erect in one corner, with his hands crossed on his breast. The head and face were but slightly disfigured, and the body seemed to have retained its proportions. The robes, which were grey with dust, fell in statuesque folds, and the whole had the look of a carving in stone."