The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1894-08-24
THE SPELL OF PEACE.
Calmly Flowing Days Where Hurry Is
Not Known.

Views of an American Writer on Life In
Mexico, Where He Has Resided Long
Enough to Absorb Philosophic Way of
Looking at Things.
I 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 a great peace pervading
this pleasant and sunny land. You note
the change Immediately chat 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 nay be mag
ined True, there are sharp divisional
lines of caste here, and in this Mexico is
not what the Altrurian traveller has imag-
lined or what Bellamy has dreamed, but
the Mexieans have reached the results
imagined by those authors without MAX
ing use of their leveling, communistic the
cries.
The separation of nation into castles
tends to contentment Born 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 a caballero, or gentleman.
1t is 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
of northern lands and have come home 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
emit 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 grewnup sons affeotionately kiss
their hands and witness the love and rev.
erenee 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 a 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 roadsswit
cheerful faces. These poor women throng
on Sundays and at early hours on week
days the little country churches and are
the better for the sincerity of their faith.
In every little town in Mexico you find
flowers, central garden or park, and hear
the song of birds. Roses, red and white,
climb the garden walls and hang over the
edge to salute you as you pass by. One
comes to love the country lanes, with their
rose or geranium hedges or their lofty
walls on either side hiding great cool gar
dens, whore 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 Queretaro IL you wish to leave the mod
ern world Of daily papers, telephones and
railway rush. You will be in the sixteenth
century, where you may rest.
10o Qhppl6SG Au6u L kQ0W Oh tIlb plcAu0U
live In Mexico. One Is a monk who lives
and meditates in an old convent which
stands in great orchard, and the other is
a blind man Of 60 years, who is as cheer
full as the unfailing sun of his land. Mel
Their of these men has any property, neither
may invite you 10 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 a saint, strayed from
paradise, who lives here simply to let his
light shine, as is commanded. An artist
would like to paint his plain, good face.
Young people go to see him and value his
counseas and friendship.
The blind man is a welcome guest at a
hundred tables, where his wit and cheer
full conversation and wise philosophy of
life make him often domestic arbiter.
How much more do our bustling million
aires get out Of life?
My monk says: 1--WE have all of us,
rich anG poor. inst "a hours in day.