Diaz is a democratic ruler. Without a middle class a successful democracy is impossible, and Diaz, alive to all such facts, set himself the task, during the last ten or fifteen years, of building up a middle class in Mexico. Diaz remains as firm a believer in a democracy as ever, although his own Republic has practically become an autocracy. He believes in an Opposition Party; but it is only now an Opposition Party has actually risen against him. During long and interesting visits to Mexico I was unceasingly impressed by the love of the people for their ruler. They revered and esteemed him as a man, they admired and appreciated his capacity to govern, and even his political enemies threw party feelings aside and realised that in him they had an ideal ruler. The Conservatives—who naturally ought to have opposed him—were tranquilly content to let the man who had held the helm for over thirty years continue to steer their bark. A YOUTHFUL VETERAN Old in years, Diaz has ever been young in spirit. Those nostrils quiver and dilate as he speaks, those deep-set eyes seem to penetrate his listener’s soul. In personality this short, thick-set Mexican appears a giant of physical strength, while his broad brows denote the thinker. He is a youthful veteran. Two months ago (Sept., 1910) this great President assisted at two celebrations. He stood on the balcony of the Municipal Palace and rang the bell that clanged forth the centenary of the Independence of Mexico. Only two months ago he kept his eightieth birthday. Last night I had the pleasure of sitting next Lord Strathcona, one of the most remarkable men of his age, and some ten years older than General Diaz; but then those ten years count for nought in a hardy Scotsman when pitted against a man of Southern climes. Longevity is an asset of the North. Diaz is of the South, and that he should still be strong and vigorous and able to pull the ropes of public affairs after fourscore years is a remarkable achievement for any man, and the more remarkable for a man with Indian blood in his veins. Not only that, but one must remember Diaz had an extraordinarily hard life until a few years ago. His father was a little innkeeper in a little town in Southern Mexico. He died of cholera when the boy was only three years old. There were five other children. The mother’s daily struggle to provide food and clothing for them was great. Diaz went to the village school. At fourteen he joined the Roman Catholic seminary with the intention of entering the Church. It was his mother’s dearest wish. Education in those early days was free in Mexico where even military students pay no fees to-day, and education is on a high standard generally. A LIFE OF ADVENTURE