MARKET SCENE IN SAN LUIS POTOSI
San Luis Potosi is not a new city nor has its growth been of the mushroom variety. Founded in the middle of the sixteenth century, it preserves to-day in wood and stone the spirit of old Spain transplanted by the conquerors to the new world. Drawn hither by the reports of gold, the Spanish cavalier stalked through the streets of this town in complete mail before the Mayflower landed on the shores of Massachusetts. The priests were chanting the solemn service of the church here long before the English landed at Jamestown. Dust had gathered on the municipal library, which now contains a hundred thousand volumes, centuries before the building of the first little red school house in the United States. Before New York had been thought of, the drama of life was being enacted here daily after Castillian models.
It is a cleanly city and the bright attractive look of its houses is refreshing. A city ordinance compels the citizens to keep up the appearance of their houses, and the colours remind one of Seville. It is pleasant to walk along these streets and through the plazas with their trees and flowers and fountains.
I will never forget my arrival in this city. We reached there about midnight, having been delayed by a wreck; and a number of mozos pounced upon the party of Americans who had been dropped by the belated train, each one eager to carry some of the baggage. We were marched through the Alameda, which, for a wonder, adjoins the station, on walks shaded by broad-leaved, tropical plants, down narrow streets and around several corners to the hotel. Arrived here it was only after several minutes of vigorous knocking that a sleepy-looking porter opened the door, and we entered the hotel and walked down the hall through a line of sleeping servants. The room finally assigned to my friend and myself was thirty-four feet long, sixteen feet wide and about twenty-five feet high, and there were four great windows extending nearly from ceiling to floor and protected by heavy iron bars which made them look like the windows of a prison. It had doubtless been some church property at one time, but whether monastery or convent I did not learn.
COCK-FIGHTING IN MEXICO
Not all this city is pretty however, for distance often lends enchantment, and a closer scrutiny takes away much of this charm. I saw filth on the streets here that can only be duplicated in old Spain itself. There are numerous churches and several of them are quite pretentious and contain some fine paintings. On the façade of one church there is a clock presented by the king of Spain in return for the largest piece of gold ever found in America. San Luis is a thrifty city as Mexican towns go and has numerous manufacturing establishments, including a large smelting works, the Compania Metallurgica, and is an important railroad centre. It is distant from the City of Mexico three hundred and sixty-two miles, and has a population of seventy thousand souls.
This city claims quite a number of American families as residents and many of the storekeepers have been somewhat Americanized, for they actually seem to be on the lookout for business. The state capitol is a very interesting building. While looking through this palace I saw the “line up” of petty offenders who were being sent out to sweep the streets. They were the worst looking lot of pulque-drinkers I ever saw and were clothed in rags. Each one was given a handful of twigs with which he was obliged to sweep the streets and gutters, and they were sent out in gangs, each under a police officer. The vices of these people are generally more evident than their virtues. They are inveterate gamblers. Wherever one goes (not alone in San Luis Potosi) fighting cocks are encountered tied by the leg to a stake with a few feet of string. Or they may be carried in the arms of young would-be sports who brag of their birds to any one who will listen. One day I saw a man with a cock whose head was one bloody-looking mass. He had just cut off the rooster’s comb. When I stopped and looked, the Indian laughed as though it were a great joke and said he was “much sick.” This was done so that in a fight his opponent could not catch hold of the comb. Itinerant cock-fighters who travel across the country carrying their birds in hollow straw tubes are popular fellows.
Leaving San Luis Potosi at noontime the traveller catches his last glimpse of this city where