The town is also noted for the luscious fruit raised by the Mexican ranchers nearby. My night's lodging was on a large pile of telegraph poles piled near the railroad. No dew falls in that country and a good many of the people who live there would rather sleep on the ground during the summer months than on a good feather bed. A man can sleep on the ground there nine months in the year without taking a cold. I left Alamogordo the next day on a passenger train as a "coal passenger," that is, I had to help the fireman shovel coal for my fare to El Paso. About half of this trip lay in the foothills of the mountains, and then we reached the mountains proper. Gradually the train rose foot by foot (the train was going very slowly now) until we had attained a height of over 5,000 feet above the level of the track. The journey was now through the clouds, and in some places the fog was so thick I could not see the cars that were following behind us, but in a few moments the spiral winding tracks would carry us on the other side of the mountains, where the sun was shining brightly, and I could see far down the beautiful valleys to some distant mountain peak over seventy-five miles away. It was the first time I had ever seen the mountains, and enraptured with their beauty, I forgot to throw coal down for the fireman. The engineer, noticing my abstraction, called: "Hey, come down here a minute." I crawled into the cab. "Where are you from?" he asked, good naturedly. "I'm from North Carolina working my way to Tucson." "I thought you were from the East," he said. "How far do you think it is to that mountain peak over there?" "It looks to be about five miles," I answered. "That's where this clear air fools you. Why that peak is over forty miles away," he laughed. The rest of this trip I was treated exceptionally good. Both the fireman and engineer seemed to take a delight in pointing out to me things of interest. Presently a very high mountain caught my eye. "That's Mt. Shasta," said the fireman. "It's over two miles high, and snow lies up there about nine months in the year. There's a railroad built up there now," he continued, "and its an ideal summer resort." About 8 or 9 p. m. we reached El Paso, Tex. At one time, years ago, El Paso was one of the roughest border towns in the West, but the modern El Paso is altogether a different town. The population now numbers over 50,000, of which 15 or 20 per cent are Mexicans. Just across the Rio Grande River is the Mexican city, Ciudad Juarez. I spent nearly a day in this quaint looking city. In the center of the town is a large park. Seated on one of the beautiful rustic benches, placed close together along the shaded avenues of the park, you are quite free from the hot, scorching sun beating down overhead. Just above your head a large frame work, extending over the entire park, has been constructed, and upon it a thick growth of vines and beautiful flowers are entwined in endless profusion.