The personality of this dictator-president, who has filled such an important place in the world’s history, is most interesting. As I sat in the great salon of the National Palace, awaiting the appearance of President Diaz, I spent the intervening fifteen or twenty minutes in examining the room. On the high walls were pictures of General Washington, the father of liberty in the whole of the two Americas; of the patriot-priest Hidalgo, who first raised the standard of revolt in Mexico, and of Diaz himself. Then Diaz appeared—a man tall for a Mexican, solidly built, with white closely cropped hair and white moustache. He approached with an elastic, graceful and springy step entirely belying his almost eighty years. The Indian blood could easily be traced in his complexion and features. The most striking feature of this man is his eyes, which seem to look into the very soul of all he meets. It is probably this intuitive perception that has been one of the key-notes of his success. He has always been a democratic sort of man and easy of approach, and impresses his sincerity on all those who talk with him. Diaz was always a tireless worker and methodical in his habits. He is abstemious, and it is probably due to this characteristic and his methodical habits, that at eighty years of age he remained as active and energetic as the average man twenty years younger. He kept in touch with the most remote parts of the republic, even to the most distant village. His advisers were often surprised at the vast knowledge he displayed in all matters of state. The private life of Diaz has always been above reproach. He has been twice married. His first wife was Delfina Ortega y Reyes, who died in 1880 before sharing in the full greatness of her husband, leaving a son and two daughters, all of whom are still living. Three years later he was married to a daughter of Romero Rubio, whose full name is Señora Doña Carmen Romero Rubio de Diaz. She is a woman who by her sweetness of character, kindly disposition and charities won a warm place in the affections of the Mexican people. The end of the political career of Diaz is not without a touch of pathos, as well as an element of personal dignity. Broken in health, and deserted by many of his former friends, he resigned the office of President in the following letter addressed to Congress:— “SEÑORES: The Mexican people, who have generously covered me with honours, who proclaimed me as their leader during the international war, who patriotically assisted me in all works undertaken to develop industry and the commerce of the republic, to establish its credit, gain for it the respect of the world and obtain for it an honourable position in the concert of the nations; that same people has revolted in armed military bands, stating that my presence in the exercise of the supreme executive power was the cause of this insurrection.