National Geographic : 1916 Jul
Photograph by Frank II. Probert EVERY LABORER IS SEARCHED BEFORE LEAVING THE PATIO OF TIIE MINES The peon laborer in the mines has always received as wages only about the equivalent of "victuals and clothes"; and frijoles, tortillas, sombreros, shirts, trousers, and sandals, with a little mescal to wash down the food, represent about the sum total of food and raiment that the peon knows. of the youthful drivers, whose vernacular is wonderfully expressive and effective; indeed, I doubt if anything but a mule can really appreciate the depth of feeling and irresistible persuasiveness of the vile expressions. What strange sights one can see in these main arteries of the city! I have set my camera on the balcony of my room at the Woods Hotel and will snap what passes by. At first, a herd of patient plodding burros loaded down with slabs of the pale green sandstone, quarried near by and used for building purposes; a legless cripple shuffles along on a board, propelling himself with his hands; a car gador trots along tirelessly with his awk ward burden, in this case a sewing-ma chine; more burros overloaded with char coal; another pack struggles under the weight of sacked ore from the mines; still another bearing grain to the market, and the street-car demanding loudly a clear track; a funeral procession, where laughing children carry a baby's casket, swaying from side to side to the accom- paniment of anything but appropriate music, and behind the mourners in silent solemnity. Strangely superstitious are these simple people. Grossly ignorant, constant in their faith, pathetic in their simplicity, kindly and respectful, their life is epit omized in the verse: "Let the World slide, let the World go; A fig for care, and a fig for woe; If I can't pay, why I can owe, And death makes equal the high and low." THE EASTER MORNING MEDLEY 'Tis Easter Sunday morning. I am awakened at early dawn by the tooting of tin horns, accompanied by the sonorous screeches of bass viols and fiddles as sounds are sawn from their strings; by the shuffling of sandaled feet over the stones of the street, and by the babel of voices of passing peons. Church bells clang, sirens scream, whistles wildly min gle in the melody of merriment; for is not this the day when Judas Iscariot is to be hung in effigy!