Mexican literature -- Translations into English; Mexican prose literature
other, escapes calculation and prevision; and there are converted into
an enterprise as insecure as mining, labors which have ever constituted
the principal honest means of livelihood for Mexicans.
* * * * *
In fine, and ever due, wholly or in part, to the atmosphere, the Mexican
of the Central Plateau--and so much the less as the altitude of the
region where he lives is greater--has never been able to count upon the
future, either for his life, or for his health, or for his fields, or
for his mines, or for his daily bread; and the apparent lack of
uniformity in the phenomena of nature, experienced through generations,
has developed in him finally a standard of judgment, composed of simple
coexistences, which, in turn, has forged the fixed belief that all in
nature is uncertain and capricious. As a logical consequence, there has
arisen an unconquerable tendency toward the only manner in his power for
reproducing in the same unpredictable form the contingencies of fortune
and misfortune of life, so far at least as concerns wealth and
misery--that is, to gaming; and thus may be explained the extent of this
vice in Mexico.
MEXICO’S LOWEST CLASS.
A, (_a_). Unfortunate men and women who have no normal or certain means
of subsistence; they live in the streets and sleep in public
sleeping-places, crouched in the _portales_, in the shelters of
doorways, amid the rubbish of buildings in construction, in some _meson_
if they can pay for the space three or four centavos a night, or stowed
away in the house of some _compadre_ or friend. They are beggars,
gutter-snipes, paper-sellers, grease-buyers, rag-pickers, scrub-women,
etc. With difficulty they earned twenty or thirty centavos daily; now
they may receive more, but the general rise in prices leaves them in the
same condition of misery. They are covered with rags, they scratch
themselves constantly, in their tangled hair they carry the dust and
mud of every quarter of the city. They never bathe themselves save when
the rain drenches them, and their bare feet are cracked and calloused,
and assume the color of the ground. In general, they do not attain to an
old age, but to a precocious decrepitude, worn out by syphilis, misery,
and drink.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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