Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1930-01-03
BY HUBERT w. KELLEY.

MEXICO CITY, January (N.AN.A)
1t Is very busy day, but one must
have breakfast. There is much to be
done and breakfast will be very brief
And so to Sanborns, the house Of
tiles, for breakfast. 1t must not be. as
other breakfasts. of interminable dura-
ton. One must call upon important
persons and visit the shops for neceS-
sites.
But, no. One must rest a moment in
Scrolled iron bench in the Alameda.
The sunshine is very thin, but it is
warm after a night in a cold, damp
room. There are no furnaces in the
hotel and the nights are chill.
One just out of the tomb must warm
oneself, Ell? Then sink down and rest
and watch the red and yellow buses
pass. No, senior. / 900 mendicantS, it is
utterly out of the question for one of
limited resources who must tip 10 per
cent at Sanborns to support the nom
cooperative charities of the City of
Mexico.
And so to Sanborns, an hour later. It
must be very brief, that breakfast.
There Is so much to be done. Every
table but one in the broad and vener-
able patio of Sanborns is taken. Every
body is eating eggs, marmalade or but
tered rolls.
1AOW plCdSdlI Tile american music
from the balcony. Was It on that stair
way, leading to Sanborns' old curiosity
shop, that Sergt. Manuel Palacios 100
years ago stabbed to death the excellent
Count Don Andres Diego Suarez De
Peredo? And If 1t were, what possible
difference could it make. A man on the
mesa Is so very small as to be of no
consequence, and furthermore. MANY
brave men have been killed in the
revolutions and the bull ring. Ho, hum
Sonny Boy" Is Popular Air.
What? Is the unsurpassed orchestra
playing Sonny Boy" for breakfasts
Sawny Bwah! Let's see. Wasn't the
radio down the Avenida Juraez blab-
bing Sonny Boy while one sat in the
Alameda? And wasn't that aboriginal
burden bearer with the apartment size
piano on his back whistling it as he
patted along In leather sandals? Right
Dotn times. It Is very popular song
in the City of Mexico
Ciink, clink, say the dishes. The
House OF Tiles! What an exquisite little
palace, antique and picturesque. tucked
away among the modern buildings like
an old blue china plate among the mod
ern white dishes of an enameled restau-
rant.
1t was built in 1896 by a governor
general OF the Philippines, but it was
not covered with tiles until the Count
of the Valley Of Orizaba, disguised bv
the dissipation and extravaganza of his
son. told him he would never build a
bridge across the Pacific Only the good
count used the Spanish expression.
You'll never build house of tiles"
But Luis De Vivero the rderelict son.
did build one. He bought the Casa and
covered it with delightful little COL
ored tiles. heaven bless his memory.
AND there one may buy as nearly an
American meal as can be found in the
City of Mexico.
The clock strikes 1890. The chic
waitress brings a demi-tasse.
History, history. The house is fun of
Y. There is too much history in Mex
leo; 1t has produced far more history in
the last 800 years than chicle, bananas,
hemp and gold. You can't escape 1t
The demi-tasse is haunted. No doubt
Benito Juarez drank from it.
An international journalist, an artist
ana another American with an I'M
furnished escutcheOn sit down at the
table.
There goes Obregon's son." says one.
There goes Gen. So-and-So with
his wife and little boy. He's been chief
OF stan now three MONTHS
There goes Mr. So-and-So. the
American aviator, who flies of Yucatan
every few days. Wonderful line, that
to Yucatan. No railroads Air service
takes the place of them"
They're All BuSy-Talking.
A girl from Lawrence, Kans., who
simply adores the altitude, drops by and
talks Is minutes.
"Rivera?" the international journalist
Is saying. why, he's just an exalted
cartoonist. He paints Hindus, further
more, not Mexicans."
half-hearted argument develops
after which somebody complains of the
altitude
Talky-talky- as Lear would saw