Arizona republican., 1922-04-21
Picking Your Own Private Beggar In
City of Mexico Has Its Advantages;
American Misses Her Pet At Xmas
Besear Woman Has Good Patrons


beggar woman the other day. She
displayed a hatful Of copper coins.
They totaled up 10 pesos.
my days takings." she said with
pride. "My patrons are the most
charitable in the City of Mexico"
That is a queer kink of the beg
ging industry here. Most residents
find it convenient to pick their own
beggars and cling to them. Last
Christmas an American friend missed
her pet beggar. He had called on
her once month for a dozen years,
but suddenly he had disappeared.
She feared he might have died. She
really feared it. for he had Quaint
custom of sending in a note for his
monthly dole, which was couched IN
such delightful terms that she felt he
earned his money. But he was not
dead. AT the first of the year he
hobbled from door to door and lett
his card for his patrons! A few days
later he followed this with a bill for
the dues of the month, and of the
month during which he had been alb
sent.
But the beggar topic had best be
dropped. Nothing more infuriates q
Mexican than to speak of Mexicos 8
beggars in preference to Mexico's
farms or Mexico's mines. Yesterday
a photographer was trying to get a
snap at a particularly picturesque old
beggar woman when a pair OF Well
dressed youngsters interyened.
Mines Rather Than Beggars
IF you want to take a photograph
they said in excellent English" pho
tograph a church.
Anyhow, the beggars are not all
there is bf the city's street lifef
Hardly has dark fallen before tiny
charcoal fires begin to sparkle along
the curbs of every downtown street
and in the edge of each Of the charm
ing little green-jewela parks scat
tered through the town. BY the side
of each fire an old Indian woman
rests on her heels. Sometimes she
has decorated her stand with little
candle. the clear light of which
flames through a shade Of red or yell
low glass. over the fire is q bub-
bling pot, filled with stew of vari-
GUS ingredients. and at one side is
a stock of tortillas, the Mexican pam
cake made of the paste and boiled
corn.
The various stands offer different
menus and the peon and the Indian,
copper coins in hand, so along the
line buying a few tortillas here, pill
ing them with beans or stewed meat
or chill there, and topping all off with
a cup Of the very bad coffee that
all Mexico makes. No country raises
better coffee or cooks worse.
Everybody Invests in Lotteries
Vendors OF lottery tickets are ev-
erywhere, the long strings of gaily
colored ticlxets-they look like French
money-hanging from between their
fingers. 1t is an article Of faith here
that most lotteries are crooked, but
every one know buys tickets con-
stantly.
Down on the great Zocalo. or plaza,
where once the Aztec temple stood,
where the Spaniards raised a cathe-
dral and palaces. which was once the
most beautiful city park in the new
world, and which was reduced by
Carranza to a dusty. treeless, sordid
square of noise and heavy paving
stones and screeching electric cars,
one can find the bird and flower mar
kets The flowers are to be relied
on. The Indians bring them in from
Xochimilco, the Indian Venice. where
they still 60 about from garden to
garden in canoes as they did in Mon
tezuna's time, and sell them at
ridiculous prices. But the birds some-
times prove deceivers. The trick OF
painting spalrows may have origin
ated in New York. but It has its fol-
lowers here. And strangers soon
learn that it is only the yellow head
ed parrot which talks, although the
red headed one chiefly abounds. Here
peddlers of small dogs and tiny ant
bears and the Mexican variety OF
woodchucks and even good, honey,
reliable raceoons poster one. 1t Is
treat to the populace to see an Amer
lean dieker with an animal man. In
moment the street to the car tracks
is Jammed with zerape- wrapped,
high hated, sandalled Indians. The
Indian is neither sad nor stern, by
the way. He loves humor. He can
get a good laugh out of such a street
transaction.
Night Scenes In Mexico City
Indian men and women sleep in the
sunshine of the curb in the less
thiclzly populated streets. The four
seatos-which is the Mexican name
for flivver-whiz by everywhere. The
little two-horse carriages rattle past.
their sad bells ringing an alarm
Country Indians offer one rudely
woven blankets and gayly decorated
pots and baskets. The brilliant vel
low of oranges greets one from al
most every doorway downtown. The
bells of the desolated old churches
for they lost their gold and silver
gauds at the time of the reformation
ring softly overhead. Now and
then one sees a squad OF soldiers
marching along the streets, rifle over
shoulder, while in their midst tramps
a prisoner. When darkness comes
the policemen plarch from their sta
ton houses BY detachments, each
swinging a lighted lantern in his
hand, so that the whole has an odd
resemblance to an inverted torchlight
parade.
All night long one hears the police
mems whistle tweedle. IL one hap
pens to be out late-so that he joins
that galaxy of night birds who clatter
noisily at locked street doors until
the porter comes-he will see the
guardian of the peace, each night
against dark angles of the walls,
YEARLY regarding their lighted Lam
terms placed in the center of the In
tersection of the streets. The years
roll back. No doubt Don Quixote
and his faithful Sancho saw just such