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Even the children, grandly bedecked as they always are, poor little things! sit in their places with countenances quite as immobile and unjoyful those of their elders. It is a singular spectacle; for an hour or more, these wooden-faced men, women and children slowly drive up and down the length of Calle de San Francisco, seldom smiling, and scarcely speaking to each other, their brilliantly clad bodies held in a sort of frozen erectness, and their wonderfully shod feet resting on great cushions of gorgeous natural flowers.

Yet, none the less is the sight one long to be remembered, nor is there a single recollection of Mexico City that it gives me more pleasure to recall. I love to close my eyes, sometimes, and try to feel in fancy the soft caress of the hot sun, as it beat down on the bewildering color pageant made up of gowns, zerapes and flowers; and I imagine I can actually see again the stately stride of the magnificent horses with their splendid trappings, drawing carriages wherein sat bejeweled women; or hear the horns of motors, restrained to a measured pace, uttering musical calls of warning that harmonize, somehow, with the soft strains of a military band playing in the far distance. To see Mexico City thus is to see it at its best.

During the closing years of the Diaz administration and also at the present time, bull-fighting has not been given any great amount of official encouragement, or, much more important, patronage. None the less, it still flourishes, and nearly every Sunday afternoon. during the winter months, vast concourses of enthusiastic people seek the sport offered at the Plaza de los Toros.

The attitude of Americans toward this sport is striking-not to say analogous. Very few who visit the "Ring" are ready to admit, publicly, that they really take pleasure in it-yet most of them do go! This, one carefully ex

cans are so eminently fair and just that they desire personally to investigate things for themselves in order to judge them solely on their merits and not from hearsay. This sounds plausible enough; it would seem, however, that in a number of cases,

several

trips are necessary 'ere unprejudiced judgment can be pronounced. Huge automobiles ticketed "to the Ring" seem to do a rushing business every Sunday, yet always on the Tuesday following the newspapers will print letters from foreign visitors, usually deploring the cruelty of such an exhibition. Quite a commotion was created by one man (a private car magnate, by the way) who wrote an indignant epistle to the Mexican Heraldwhich it printed verbatim-declaring he would not remain in a country where such atrocious cruelty was allowed to exist, and, true to his word, he and his family hastened away in high dudgeon. The position generally taken by Americans who have resided a long time in Mexico is that bull fighting is one of the national amusements -and if you don't like it, why, don't go: an eminently common-sense point of view.

The Mexicans themselves are by no means so tolerant of American prejudice on this score. They take every opportunity to twit us with tales of lynchings in the South (apparently regarding these as some form of national entertainment), prize-fights and football games. Well do I recall the intense enthusiasm and satisfaction evoked when Dr. Eliot's condemnation of the last-mentioned sport was made public.

Unlike the bull rings, Mexican theatres do not seem to derive much additional patronage from the American invasion of the past few years. During one of my visits to Mexico City a few winters ago, there was a short season of Italian opera, the bright particular star of the company being Mme. Luisa Tetrazzini. Yet, though the famous prima donna is much beloved by the Mexicans, this engage

ment proved to be a disastrous one financially, and finally the company was obliged to disband.

Delighted at the prospect of a musical treat, with several music lovers from my hotel I eagerly set forth to hear "Traviata," one of the attractions of the opening week. Though Mme. Tetrazzini was Violetta, the house was not half filled, and at least a third of the audience (particularly in the gallery), appeared to be composed of small children, who, like children of other countries, couldn't be either still or silent.

Indeed, one excessively fullthroated infant in arms yelled lustily throughout the duet in the first act, reaching a veritable climax during "Ah fors' e lui!" in a series of earsplitting shrieks.

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Poor Madame Tetrazzini! It surely was most annoying to be forced to compete with a human accordionand realize that your rival was winning, hands down! We were very far from blaming her when she glared furiously in the direction of the disturbance, then dashed into the sparkling ripples of "Sempre liberia." Suddenly, a most appalling combination of sounds merged itself with pearly rhythm of Violetta's scales. Like soldiers at the word of command, every one looked upward. There, standing in the front of a box in the second tier, was a well-dressed woman, vigorously tossing the disturbing element with one hand, while in the other, with equal energy, she twirled a small watchman's rattle. The wails of the baby quickly

changed to crows of pleasure, but the now thoroughly outraged audience hastened to bestow on the entirely unmoved parent a storm of vehement hisses.

Mme. Tetrazzini, meanwhile, had rushed from the stage, and it was fully three-quarters of an hour before the performance was continued.

It was but a short time after this that I attended another musical function, a concert this time, where the pianist was so manifestly disconcerted and annoyed by the constant bawling of a small child among those present that, suddenly, in the midst of his admirable playing of an "Impromptu" of Schubert's, he stopped, clapped both hands to his temples with a gesture of despair, and fled from the stage, stoutly refusing to continue his part of the program.

This incident seemed to have been the cause that brought forth an editorial in one of the leading papers, El Imparcial, inquiring whether those persons who had paid money to hear music were being fairly treated when deprived of their enjoyment by the antics of naughty children; was it just to the buyers? El Imparcial asked in all seriousness; adding, naively, that, even should a proceeding seem highhanded, it would be better for managers of all places of amusement in Mexico City to refuse admission to infants and small children as was done in Europe and the United States.

I've often thought that I should like to know whether that editorial produced any more practical results than giving me a good laugh.

T

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WO CREATURES new to the eyes of the general public, are the fine pair of secretary birds, male and female, just received from Africa, and now on exhibition at the New York Zoological Park. These stately, longlegged bipeds, with ashy gray plumage and tail feathers two feet long, are the champion snake killers of the

world. The secretary is really a hawk adapted especially for ground hunting. The male stands four feet high, the greater part of this being made up of legs and neck.

The bird gets its odd name from a crest of long, dark plumage rising from the back of the head, which gives him a fanciful resemblance to a clerk having a bunch of quill pens

1. The secretary bird in the act of killing a snake. The bird strikes the snake on the head with a lightning like

blow of its powerful foot. 2. The bird scrutinizing the snake for signs of life.

stuck behind his ears. The naked skin of the face is yellow. The fine gray eyes have heavy, long lashes. In South Africa the birds are said to be of a considerable economic use to the community as a destroyer of venomous pests, for they kill and eat cobras, vipers and other poisonous reptiles.

The writer had a special opportu

nity to make photographs showing how this curious and wiry bird attacks and quickly makes a meal out of his victim. All its food must be alive, and as garter snakes sell at ten cents each, there is likely to be a good market in the Zoological Park for youthful snake hunters.

A garter snake was thrown some distance from the male secretary bird on the runway of the enclosure. Unlike a hawk or vulture, he did not fly upon the prey at once, but cautiously approached the snake with wings partly. outspread, so as to be ready to escape any sudden lunge of the enemy. Still watching its movements, the secretary slowly circled around his antagonist, looking for an opening, but keeping well out of danger. Suddenly, like a flash, the bird raised and shot out one of his powerful feet, with sharp talons, and struck the snake fairly on the head. This was quickly followed by another sharp blow, which proved a knockout.

Another three-foot snake given to the bird proved more active than the first and showed a disposition to fight, making several angry lunges at the secretary, which dodged them in prizering style. In avoiding these lunges, the bird put out its widespread foot to protect the abdomen. The secretary feinted and dodged for a minute or more, watching for a good opening. Suddenly, up shot the heavy foot, and a sledge hammer blow, surely aimed, struck the snake on the head, stunning and putting the reptile out of action. The talons were drawn together when the blow started, spreading out while in the air, and were brought together slightly at the instant of impact with the snake, so that the victim received not only the force of the blow, but the piercing of the sharp claws.

When the snake lay quiet after the blows, the bird eyed it sharply for a moment to see if it were quite harmless, and then, lowering his head slowly, for a bit, he suddenly shot out his beak like an arrow and transfixed the snake just behind the head. After