Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1894-08-20
THE SPELL OF PEACE.
CALMLY FLOWING DAYS WHERE HuR-
nv IS NOT KNOWN.
Views of an American Writer on Life In
Mexico, Where He Has Resided Long
, Enough to Absorb q Philosophic Way OF
Looking at Things.

| Mexico, Where He Has Resided Long
Enough to Absorb Philosophic Way OF
Looking at Things.
have frequently said that south OF the
Rio Grande one finds whole nation OF
philosophers, on the whole the most con-
tented, tranquil people on the face OF the
globe. There is great peace pervadlng
| this pleasant and sunny land. You note
the change Immediately that you cross the
boundary river from bustling, energetic
Texas into dreamy, happy Mexico.
If, as we must believe, the acme OF
human felicity is attained when one has
arrived at perfect content of spirit, then
we must admit that the Mexican people
are as near to the realization of the dream
of Howells and Bellamy as may be mag
ined. True, there are sharp divisional
| lines of caste here, and in this Mexico Is
not what the Altrurian traveller has mag
ined or what Bellamy has dreamed, but
the Mexicans have reached the results
imagined by those authors without max
ing use of their leveling, communistic tho
cries.
Tho separation of nation into castles
tends to contentment. Born a peon, you
expect so to remain, and not being ambi-
tious you are happy in being simply what
| you are, and you have no notion of trying
to be caballero, or gentleman.
1t is a delight to see restful, tranquil
women, and one finds them in Mexico, and
that, too, among the higher classes. who
have travelled, have really lived in Paris,
not merely fitting through that brilliant
capital, have breathed the electric air of
New York and looked on at the varied life
| l. 4 l. TO
rest and be happy the remainder Of their
useful, charming lives. They are content
to be merely women, wives and mothers,
and the proof of their happiness is to be
read in their tranquil, cheerful glance.
These women read and often in differ
ent tongues They have many accomplish
ments and are always good housekeepers
and are hospitable hostesses in their quiet
way The great content of this tropical
land rests on them, these charming wom-
en- of faith and good works, of unvarying
sweetness of character. You should see
their grownup sons affectionately kiss
their hands and witness the love and rev.
ercncc given them by their daughters.
Mexico has produced something infinitely
better than its silver and gold-its women.
In the humber classes one finds this
same tranquil happiness The poor wom-
| an, employed Is hours day in q cotton
mill, puts flowers in her window or hangs
a singing bird in its cage on the wall. The
women bearing burdens from the hills
come trotting down the country roads with
| cheerful faces. These poor women throng
ON Sundays and at early hours on week
days the little country churches and arc
the better for the sincerity of their faith.
In every little town insNexico you find
flowers, a central garden or park, and hear
the song of birds. Roses, red and white,
climb the garden walls and hang over tho
edge to salute you as you pass by. Ono
comes to love the country lanes, with their
rose or geranium hedges or their lofty
walls on either side hiding great cool gar
dens, where the fountains play all day.
Everywhere courtesy, from the peon in
the field to the hacendado on his capari-
soned steed-a land of calmly flowing days
where hurry is unknown! Go to Morelia
or Qucretaro if you wish to leave the mod.
crn world Of daily papers, telephones and
railway rush. You will be in the sixteenth
century, where you may rest.
Tho happ;cst men know on this planet
live in Mexico. One is n monk who lives
and meditates in an old convent which
stands in great orchard, and the other is
| IL Ulluu uldu Vi W years, VINO Is as Cneef-
full as the unfailing sun of his land. Nci-
thcr of these men has any property, neither
may invite you to banquet, open to you a
splendid library or show you treasures of
art collected in wide travels, yet you will
be happy with him and enjoy serene
hour. The monk is saint, strayed from
paradise who lives here simply to let his
light shine, rs is commanded. An artist
wonld like to paint his plain, good face.
Young people go to see him and value his
counsels and friendship.
The blind man is n welcome guest at q
hundred tables where his wit and cheer
full conversation and wise philosophy of
life make him often n domestic arbiter
How much more do our bustling million
aires get out of life?
My monk says: "We have all of us,
rich and poor, just "a hours in q day.
Eight we sleep, perhaps, if our digestion
and our consciences arc sound and amb-
ton does not sit by our bedside planning,
and the rest we have for work or recre.
alton. The whole business of life is
to get out of those waking hours the
greatest number of happy ones-those
who fail to realize that "a hours in the day
are all we have, for we live only from day
to day, and make the best of them fail in
life. Often the rich people fail tho most
stupidity
LONG ago became convinced that some of
the sanest people on the planet are locked
up in Warehouses; and that the most I'M
happy lunatics arc found in counting
rooms, bank parlors and government Of
fees. The man who fails to get something
of substantial happiness out Of the "a
hours is certainly stark mad. He may eat
well, he may discrcetly refrain from froth
ing at the mouth, he may not cut any
capers, but a lunatic he is all the same.
1t is pity that the old converts have
been broken up so completely that only
once In great while you may come upon
solitary man at peace with the world
and himself, passing the long, bright days
in meditative content. The religious or
ders stood for much. They stood for calm
thought, for Astounding charity, for rest
ing places on the rough road of life. But
the locomotive has come and, with its
enormous voice, has awakened villages,
towns, cities and nations to the modern
life of unrest and fruitless haste It's pillar |