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themselves in well known places of safety. On entering the crater, no one escapes the dread malaria of the spot. Indian and White Man alike go down, with flying pains in the head, and a nauseating feeling at the stomach that is worse than sea-sickness. Conklin, of all our party, seemed most affected. He had strength enough to crawl to one of the huts, and there he sank down on a mat in an almost insensible condition. It was not long before the rest of us joined him, and then commenced one of the most unpleasant nights I ever spent. Seven of of us were confined in a space of about six by seven feet. It was impossible for any man to stretch himself out at full length. Nearly all of us were deathly sick, and combined with these discomforts was the constant fear of being crushed by the falling rocks. All night long they fell with fearful reverberating echoes from the surrounding cliffs. We were told that more than usual came down, owing to the fact that the preceding day had been a little warmer than common. In contrast with the booming sound of these flying bowlders, came the sucking, surging sound of the great respiraderos all around us. These breathing holes, or vaporjets, are six in number. They are in constant action, and throw off immense quantities of smoke and vapor, with now and then a lurid tongue of flame. All the heat of the crater is not confined to these spots, however. Little jets of steam creep out from every crevice, all the rocks are warm, and it is impossible to find a place to lie down where you are not tormented by curling whiffs of sulphur smoke rising from the earth beneath you. Toward midnight I found it impossible to endure my cramped position in the hut any longer. Every muscle in my body ached, and, as sleep was out of the question, I gathered up my blanket and made my way out into the open air. A scene of the most weird and awful character presented itself The crater seemed full of smoke. Detached clouds of vapor waved themselves back and forth along the cliffs like ghosts, and as I listened to the hoarse breathing of that mysterious power which I could not see, I thought of the wild Aztec legends connected with the spot, and, in my superstitious mood, I half believed that the restless spirits of their departed chiefs had risen to confront and haunt me for my intrusion into their dread abode.

Between two rocks on the southern cliff the moon looked down blood-red. I thought of eruptions and earthquakes, and although I knew the peculiar appearance of the moon was due to an optical delusion produced by the smoke, I could not divest myself of the feeling that I was treading on Plutonian territory, and that I

might at any moment be shot out into space. Next morning every one was better, with the exception of Conklin. Noon came, and he revived a little, but this spell was followed early in the afternoon by another of the most alarming character. His face turned to the most ghastly color, his senses entirely left him, and he lay in the bottom of the hut like a dead man. It was impossible to get out now before morning, and, as we had no medicines or mode of giving relief, our anxiety was painful. The second night in the infierno was much the same as the first, with the exception that Thomas and I slept outside the hut. We had become indifferent to the danger from falling rocks by this time, and preferred the sky and the stars and the risk to the dismal interior of the hut. As soon as it was daylight, everything was made ready for our climb up into the world again. Conklin still lay insensible, and it was with heavy hearts that we carried him out and strapped him on the back of a stalwart Indian. To get him up those cliffs alive seemed an impossibility; but it was death to remain, so there was no choice. Inch by inch, and almost dragging him in some places, we got him up over the slanting débris to the foot of the perpendicular wall. It took nearly two hours to do that, and then, lashing him like a dead body to another Indian, he was hoisted up over the cliff. As the rope tightened on him, and he rose higher and higher, with head and arms dangling, there was not a man among us who expected to find him alive when he reached the top. In this expectation we were happily disappointed, however, for on reaching him we could still detect traces of life. Placing him in charge of two of the most trustworthy native mountaineers, we mounted the outer lip, and stood once more in the world. Never did old Mother Earth seem so beautiful. We felt as Lazarus must have felt when he rose from the grave; and when, a few hours later, we found ourselves down among the fragrant pines near the mountain's base, and our exhausted companion, revived by the fresher, denser air, opened his eyes with a look of recognition, we felt that our ambition for volcano climbing was abundantly satisfied.

Returning, however, from this digression, the question naturally presents itself: How is it that a country so rich in material resources, and so blessed by Nature with all that man desires to make him happy and contented, is so backward in the march of civilization, and so slow in developing its latent stores of material wealth? I think there is but one answer to this question, and that is the revolutionary condition of the country, and the absence of a firm, strong government to enforce law and order, and make

life and property secure. Is there any excuse for this condition of things, and have Mexican revolutions, as a general rule, had any higher aim than plunder and the venting of a morbid spirit of unrest? I think I can answer affirmatively to both these queries. The population of Mexico is between eight and nine millions, threefourths of whom are full-blooded descendants of the original Indian inhabitants. These people, after the Spanish conquest, and for nearly three hundred years, were ground down under the heel of a selfish and heartless despotism. The peon system was in full force-a system which, in its practical workings, reduced the condition of the masses to the level of slavery. Education was excluded, and priestly superstitions and tyrannies encouraged and fostered. The most oppressive trade laws and regulations were enforced, and the whole policy of the Spanish Government was directed toward crushing out the light, liberty, and manhood of an unfortunate people, and making them blind contributors to the wealth of Spain. As late as 1810, a Spanish edict was in force to the effect that the grape should not be cultivated in Mexico-that the colony should not compete with the mother country in the manufacture of wine; and it was the ruthless enforcement of this edict by the Spanish soldiery, who descended upon the vineyards of the priest, Miguel Hidalgo, and destroyed his vines, which induced the brave old man to raise his voice against Spanish tyranny, and on the night of the 15th of September, 1810, the first cry for Mexican independence was sent ringing through the land. The people did not know what it meant, but they knew that they were miserable and unhappy. They had heard of the Great Republic on the north, and that the people there ruled themselves and were contented and prosperous. Liberty was a soul-stirring word, and in their ignorance, poverty, and degradation, they felt its appeal, and rallied by thousands to the support of its standard.

Shortly before the death of the old hero, Santa Ana, I had the privilege of meeting him often in his rooms in the City of Mexico. He was cheerful and talkative, and loved to recall his early exploits and reminiscences of the first years of the republic. I can remember him distinctly as he sat one evening on his sofa in a dimly lighted room, with his wooden leg out straight before him, and his white, almost effeminate face beaming pleasantly on the circle of friends around him. His eye was black as a coal, and flashed with all the fire of youth when the conversation touched on any topic which pleased him. Some allusion was made to his early career in the dawning days of the republic.

"Republic!" he exclaimed. "I did not know what a republic was. A body of citizens came to me in Vera Cruz, and asked me to lead them in establishing a republican government. 'But what is a republic?' I asked. 'Viva la Republica!' was all the reply they could make to me; and so we stumbled along in the dark in our efforts to make a government and free ourselves from Spain."

Mexico was not ready for a republican form of government when the cry for independence was raised, nor was she ready for it when her independence was achieved in 1821, nor is she, in fact, ready for it to-day. It cannot be denied, however, that the tendency from 1810 to the present time has been in the right direction. Although not prepared for republicanism, such republicanism as she has maintained is better than slavery, and the progress which has been made in many directions is most astonishing, in view of the difficulties of the situation. Every revolution, while it has decreased the material wealth of the country, has let in some light upon the people, and advanced some social, human, or political right. One by one the wrongs and abuses which had grown up in Mexico had to be met and overcome. The people were ignorant; the use of the elective franchise was unknown; there was no public press, nor way of molding public opinion; bad men were numerous, and availed themselves of the situation to plunder, and steal, and usurp power. There was but one recourse when a great wrong was to be crushed, and that recourse was to arms. Through the whole history of Mexico there have been zealous, honest, patriotic men struggling for right and their country's welfare. For many years the principal struggle was between the church and state, and it was an unequal struggle, for the church had wealth, and organization, and sympathy, and power. But the people triumphed, and the power of the church was broken forever. The result of this struggle was the Liberal Constitution of 1857, which is now the fundamental charter of the land. This document, which is modeled after our own, guarantees civil and religious liberty to all men, and, together with its accompanying liberal code of laws, is a giant stride in the march of progress. The peon system has been done away with, the liberty of conscience and the press proclaimed, the Jesuits banished, and schools and charitable institutions established in many parts of the land. My object in mentioning these things is simple. During the sixty years of Mexican independence she has been so busy getting rid of old obstacles and stumbling-blocks-such as our forefathers did not have to encounter in estab

lishing this republic-that the progress actually | hidden stores of wealth. She wants railroads made is remarkable, and deserving of praise and commendation rather than the contempt and indifference with which these struggles have generally been viewed. I would not defend all these revolutions, for many of them have been foolish-such as that of the chief, Marquez, recently in progress in northern Mexico, and the abortive attempts at insurrection which are now reported; but, viewed as a whole, I doubt whether the advancement already made by Mexico in all departments of civilized life could have been attained in the next fifty years without them.

There is, then, some excuse for the condition | of anarchy which has prevailed so long in the neighboring republic. Nor is Mexico exceptional and alone in this respect. A glance back at the history of every European country will show that all have passed through the same experiences of civil turmoil and disorder before reaching a comparative state of tranquillity and prosperity. England has been no exception to this rule, and we in America to-day are enjoying the fruits and the benefits, in the shape of liberty and human rights, which resulted from each upheaval and civil disturbance of those unhappy times.

Mexico has come later upon the stage, and when we consider the character of her population and the circumstances by which she has been surrounded, we believe she is entitled to a more charitable judgment from the civilized world.

and steam communication by water. It is true there is a fear at present of railroad communication with the United States. But is not this fear well founded? The Mexicans have not forgotten the history of Texas, and they know something of the grasping character of our countrymen. A railroad over the border will, they say, result in Americanizing the frontier States, and, in their present condition, they are conscious of the fact that they could not hold them. An honest effort is being made, however, to encourage commercial intercourse with the United States, and the Government of Mexico has done much more in this respect than has our own. There are now three lines of American steamships touching at Mexican ports, all of which receive a subsidy from the Mexican Government, but not a cent from the Government of the United States. These steamers would, in all probability, be withdrawn but for the aid thus afforded. If our merchants are really desirous of opening up more extended commercial relations with this country, would it not be well to call the attention of Congress to the matter, and ask for the expenditure of a reasonable sum annually in furthering this object? The judicious use of $150,000 a year would result in doubling the present means of communication with Mexican ports. And when we consider that larger sums are spent every year in maintaining steam connections with other, and perhaps less important and more distant, parts of the globe, it seems strange that the market at our very doors should have been so long overlooked.

Mexico wants to trade with us, but our merchants in opening up this trade must, if successful, operate in such a way as not to antagonize or violate the national feelings and the prejudices of a sensitive people. There are difficulties to be overcome, but they can only be overcome gradually and patiently. Nothing can be forced or done in a hurry. Reciprocity treaties, such as the existing one with the Ha

A stable government is the object to be attained before prosperity of any kind can ensue. To the necessity of this proposition all intelligent Mexicans are wide awake, and the indications are that the time has arrived when this desideratum may be realized. With the exception of a few unimportant pronunciamientos, the administration of President Diaz, now in power, has maintained peace and tranquillity throughout the republic for nearly four years, and I fully believe that the day has gone by when any revolutionary movement can again overthrow the federal authority of the republic.waiian Islands, are impossible, and will not be There is still much to be done before Mexico can enter upon the career of prosperity to which she is certainly destined. For the first time in her history she has reached a breathing place, and on looking about she finds herself impoverished, her credit gone, a heavy debt upon her shoulders, internal improvements of all kinds neglected, and her immense natural resources undeveloped. She looks to the outside nations, and particularly to the United States, to assist her through this crisis, by both moral and material support. Foreign capital is invited to come and open up her mines and

VOL. II.-17.

considered, in Mexico. The Germans have shown themselves best adapted for this trade, and by their patient and persevering policy have fairly earned the monopoly of the commerce which they at present control. Mr. Foster, in his letter from which I have already quoted, in referring to this point, says:

"The Hamburg merchants establish their branches in various parts of Mexico, and send their educated youth out to serve an apprenticeship in the business, and to afterward assume the management of the branch houses. They become thoroughly familiar with the condition and practices of the country, and master the intricacies of

the tariff and interior duties. Revolutions and changes of government do not disturb their equanimity. They

become accustomed to 'forced loans' and 'extraordinary contributions. Notwithstanding the irregularities of the custom-house officials and the embarrassments of the contraband trade, they keep the 'even tenor of their way,' and usually (though not always) in middle or advanced life are able to go back to Germany with a competence."

I have, however, already departed far from my original purpose in this paper. It was not my intention to dwell upon commercial topics. I wanted to say something more of the people of Mexico-their customs and habits. I had proposed to speak of their schools and religion, and the odd sights and experiences of a traveler in this interesting land. The Protestant missionary work in Mexico, the ancient ruins, that peculiar institution-a government pawn-shop, or monte pio-the floating gardens, Chapultepec, the bull ring, stage robbing, hacienda life, the paseo, popular amusements, and a hundred other subjects, each of which would merit a chapter in itself; all these must be passed over for the present.

| Protestant. In my excursions through Mexico I met many of the priests. They are generally jolly, good fellows, hospitable and kind, but almost as ignorant as their flocks. I once asked a good padre in an interior town, after returning with him from a religious performance:

"How is it that instead of playing with fire, and jingling bells, and bowing, and marching around, you do not get up once in a while and tell these people: 'It is wrong to lie; you must not steal; be good men.'"

But I saw that I had hurt his feelings, and got no reply save the characteristic shrug. The policy of the church, to hold the masses by amusing them, is fully lived up to in Mexico. There are many amusing forms and ceremonies of a semi-religious character. On Ascension Day, for example, every true and faithful son of the church considers it his duty to manifest, in some manner, his disrespect for the memory of Judas Iscariot. For this purpose every man, woman, and child procures a burlesque image, ranging in size from a few inches in length to immense figures six or eight feet high. These are all provided with a fire-cracker attachment, and when, on the day in question, the bell in the town announces that the hour has arrived for vengeance, every man touches off his Judas, and the poor fellow's effigy is blown into a thousand pieces. This performance is varied a little in different parts of the country. I remember on one occasion of being in a country village on Ascension Day, and of being startled by a wild shout from a hundred voices. On

It is in the city of Mexico itself that the best of everything Mexican is seen. Here is found education and refinement, a love for music and literature, fine schools and churches and philanthropic institutions. Many of the better classes of the people have traveled, and speak all the modern languages; and their professional men -physicians, lawyers, editors, and studentswill rank favorably with those of any other people. The Mexicans are hospitable and exceed-rushing into the street, I was surprised to see a ingly polite-two virtues, by the way, which cover a multitude of little sins, and which may be profitably imitated in America. The educated Mexican of to-day is a free-thinker on religious subjects. As in France, the tendency has been to go from one extreme to the other. The religious fervor or fanaticism of thirty years ago has given place to infidelity, atheism, spiritualism, and an absence of belief in anything. This applies, of course, to none but the educated classes. The great masses are still faithful to Mother Church. This Catholic religion of Mexico is a remarkable medley-a mixture of absurdities and sacred things. Such a thing as spiritual religion is unknown. The great body of the Indian population is as much in the dark to-day respecting the truths of the Christian religion as they were before the conquest. The church has been content to engraft a few of its forms upon the old Indian beliefs and superstitions, and the product is a condition of things found in no other country, Catholic or

frantic steer charging down the road at full speed, with the whole village at his heels, yelling and whooping like a band of wild Indians. Strapped fast to the back of the steer was a life-sized effigy of Judas Iscariot, and as it tipped back and forth, and the steer pitched and bellowed, and the effigy began to come to pieces, tossing an arm here, and a head there, the populace redoubled their shouts, and I have no doubt all felt satisfied that they had performed a good Christian duty, at the same time having lots of fun at the expense of old Judas for his crime of eighteen hundred years ago.

There is much to be done-there is much that we all can do, by extending our sympathy and charity—to raise these people to a higher plane of things. To know each other better must, however, precede all else, and the hope of exciting such desire on the part of my fellow countrymen has been the motive which has actuated me in the preparation of this paper.

D. S. RICHARDSON.

IF IT COULD BE.

If it could be as I dream

When the birds sing loud to the dewy morn,
And the wind comes up through the tasseled corn
Out of the ferny wood,

I should waken far in a glorious land,

Where the mountains, a gleaming sapphire band,
Stand in the sun's bright flood-

If it could be as I dream!

If it could be as I dream

When the maples wave their leaves in the sun,
And the shadows creep slowly, one by one,
Over the long green field,

I should walk in a busy, thronging street,

One would come that way, and our eyes would meet; What would be then revealed,

If it could be as I dream!

If it could be as I dream

When the sunset fades, and the sky grows gray,
And the white moon sails on her silent way

Over a starry sea,

One would come again through the summer night, And his eyes grow sweet with the old, glad light; What would that meeting be,

If it could be as I dream!

JULIA H. S. BUGEIA.

A NEW ENGLAND FARM.

In a quiet country town of New England is a farm which used to be my earthly paradise. My own father's place was very pleasant in its way, but it called for a little too much work, from the time when a boy could ride a horse to plow out corn or follow the hay-cart with a rake. My grandfather's farm, on the contrary, was a place for infinite leisure and sport. The standing invitation he gave me was to "come down and do up the mischief." Then, too, there was the novelty of hidden nooks in house and barns, of unexplored meadows and pastures. Far up on the hillside the woodland lost itself in an unbroken forest, where the small boy could easily imagine beasts of prey. Under the scattering trees that fringed it, foxes had their holes by the side of a sheltering rock. Great was my admiration for the larger boy who could entrap them. Back of the farm buildings was a famous echo rock, from which, as I stood and

| shouted down the hill, my shrill tones were returned with startling distinctness. A log aqueduct brought down from the mountain the most delicious water, which poured with constant music into the great tub on the kitchen porch. Just back of the barns were giant walnut trees, whose nuts gave equal pleasure in the gathering and the eating, and whose fragrant leaves allured the swarming bees to new hives. A sturdy butternut helped to vary the entertainment of the winter evenings. Wide-spreading buttonwoods shaded the house in front, and offered pleasant loitering to the travelers on the | high road. There was no cross-road near. One straight country street ran, with a few rightangled tributaries, for miles along the lower upland of the valley. This farm extended down to and across the river. Below the street were a garden and a barn, and in the high stone wall a wide gateway which gave entrance to the up

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