Things are going on very pleasantly from day to day, as far as we, personally, are concerned, but the national machine seems clogged and creaking, in spite of the victories in the north. Oaxaca is in a state of complete revolution. Six thousand Indians have risen, and the whole country is seething with brigandage, flourishing greenly under the weak central rule. It will take years for things to settle down. On Sunday another picnic is being got up. The ambassador, of course, J. B. P., Mr. Butler, the Bonillas, Professor Baldwin, who is giving a course at the university here, Aliotti and Mr. Brown, president of the National Railways. I always take Elim for the _dias de campo_. He is quite a feature of the gatherings and good as gold, playing by himself. [47] In the palace in the Salón Rojo is a large picture of the battle of Puebla, with Diaz prominently figured. The picturesque dress of the Puebla mountain Indians gives it a familiar note. There is nothing wanting to show the prowess of Mexicans, and it portrays the French retreating down-hill in terrible disorder--chasseurs d'Afrique and chasseurs de Vincennes giving it a European touch not in keeping with the bits of maguey in the landscape. [48] The heir to the Hanoverian throne killed in a motor accident. [49] _Io mi volsi a man destra e posi mente All' altro polo, e vidi quattro stelle, Non viste mai fuor ch'alla prima gente. Goder pareva il ciel di lor fiammelle; O settentrional vedovo sito Poi che privato se' di mirar quelle!_ "PURGATORIO" I This is the passage that commentators take to mean the Southern Cross, the knowledge of which Dante got from Marco Polo. [50] Assassinated at Salonica, 1913. XXIV One Indian's view of voting--Celebrating the King's birthday at the British Legation--A single occasion when Mexican "pillars of society" appear--Reception at Don Pedro Lascurain's _Sunday evening, June 2d._ We had a very lively picnic to-day at the Peña Pobre, all gathering at Calle Humboldt, where we waited vainly for Professor Baldwin. At last, after fruitless telephoning, we started through the shining city, out the Tlalpan road, past the Country Club, where the links were black with golfers, through the _très-coquet_ Tlalpan, to the Peña Pobre hacienda. I drove out with the ambassador, the Italian minister, Mr. Brown, Mr. Potter, and Mr. Butler. We got the necessary permission from the obliging administrator at the door of the hacienda, and then passed on through the lovely rose-garden to a wilder, gorge-like spot, where a long, weather-stained table was built under the shade of some eucalyptus-trees.