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interests, while Sonora, just across the border, far richer in water and soil and mineral, has slumbered for years, devastated by incursions of Indians from the North, and then rent with internal political dissensions, yet all the while hoping for the morrow to bring forth peace and prosperity. No wonder the Mexicans love the word mañana, for in to-morrow has lain their hope for years. But Sonora and Mexico are rapidly passing into a new day whence all that has been will be as yesterday, and to-morrow will be bright with promise.

The world now touches the sunshine of Southern California, eating its sun-kissed oranges, its sun-dried figs, its new seedless raisins, and the fruit of its alligator pear trees, transplanted from Mexico. Its deep valleys are raising the finest cotton; its motor highways are jewels in the crown of a State promoting intercourse over wide reaches betwixt its peoples.

The honey of human bee life is in California. In Mexico are yet the thistle, the nettle, and the hornet, the prickly cactus, sheltering the serpent, the poisonous herb shading the centipede and the political centipede.

I was surprised a few years ago to be notified that the Mexican Central forty-year bonds, to