is of the blood. But spirit, which is superior, and is the quality of our civilisation, this, in the mass, he darkly and barbarically repudiates. Not until he becomes an artizan or connected with machinery does the modern spirit get him.
And perhaps it is this ponderous repudiation of the modern spirit which makes Mexico what it is.
But perhaps the automobile will make roads even through the inaccessible soul of the Indian.
Kate was rather sad, seeing the dance swamped. She had been sitting at a little table, with Juana for dueña, sipping a glass of absinthe.
The motor-cars returning to town left early, in a little group. If bandits were out, they had best keep together. Even the fifis had a pistol on their hips.
But it was Saturday, so some of the young “elegance” was staying on, till the next day; to bathe and flutter in the sun.
It was Saturday, so the plaza was very full, and along the