San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1896-10-25

Truly, man needs little here be
low.
Poverty becomes interesting
here on account of its ingenious
make-shifts-a hereditary power.
ty that has not even the Don
QuiXate inheritance of "savOry
remembrances."
The first lesson of their lives
is fortitude and it is written in
their very faces.
ut brings them to a very sat
isfactOry philosophy of life, and
that is what we all seek-they
are happier than you or l." re-
marks our hotel guide and phi
lOsOpher.
You don't know how happy |
ann exclaimed one of the ladies
of our party-the frivolous one.
Don't l? 1t can be read back
of the sunlight of your eyes. You
pity, you envy these poor poems?
Now confess each and every one.
We did.
NO nervous headaches
unused the little teacher from the
north.
mo, but maybe a queer sensa-
ton in the region of the stomach
on some days-the world is pref
ty well balanced you'll find"
drawled our philosopher. How
would you like, my dainty lady,
to buy secondhand clothing from
the booth, and sandals from that
and two meals from yonder old
woman on three bits day."
Il could smell the flowers, look
at the mountains and examine
the pottery:" said the teacher,
But just wait a minute; "did
you ever see finer flowers"
Roses. lilies jasmines, pansies,
violets and evergreens, our whole
season is here.
"Muy barato; este muy bonito"
calls the boy; una realew 1T
looks like a bargain, just twelve
cents for a beautiful bunch as
big as we can well carry.
The temptation is too great
and we buy a bunch around,
though we know they will wither
before we hOmeward turn.
Here is the pOttery-GuadaIa-
jara ware, grey and unglazed, but
bright with paint and curious de-
signs, Zacatecas bowls, hard and
polished. Puebla water jars, fine
and smooth, while Aguas Cali
entes, sends many shapes and va
riOus utensils, grey and glazed.
We buy piece of each and store
away flowers and pottery into a
large "bit" basket.
"Tamales, nice hot tamalesw
eXclaims an old woman in tolera-
BILE good English.
"Of what are they made?"
asks one.
The old woman shakes her
head, it is beyond her English.
Our philosopher looks wise.
Maize. mice, eXclaims our Mex
lean friend" eager to sell.
80, my goodness. mice? You
don't really think they are made
of mice? | don't want any.
The old woman wonders why
we are so funny over a little mix
ture of corn and meat, shakes
her head and tells her neighbor
"these Americans are very queer
people"
Laughing we made our way
out, past fruit and vegetable
stands, past bird vendors, shoe
clerks and sandal makers, into
narrow streets where we hailed
a passing street car and soon left
the palpitating city behind to be-
hold it again from the historical
bishops palace.
We soon stand on the spot
where many brave Mexican and
American hero fell.
The very stones at our feet
were once dyed with blood. The
spirit of patriotism, the spirit of
love, the spirit of faith and bray
cry that prompted each human
effort no poet can fully sing, no
historian fully record.
Sunshine and storm has effaced
the hallowed blood drops and
bleached the stones in new born
purity.
The dim and crumbling walls
re-echO not a thrOb of human pas
sion or worships single noble
heart beat.
Time will soon efface every
mark of "Whprp the battle was