T

HE Speaker rapped for order. "The House will come to order!" The delegates, who had risen respectfully at the entrance of the Honorable Speaker, resumed their seats.

"La Cámara," came in ringing tones from the rear, “será llamada en orden."

From then on every word was parroted by a rotund gentleman who ran up and down the aisles, speaking from as near the original speaker as he could get. Phrase by phrase he repeated in Spanish every remark as it was made in English, or in English what was said in Spanish. To those who could understand both languages it sometimes seemed that the interpreter improved on the speaker's intention, sometimes that he threw in a bit of humor where none was meant. Often the subtlest turning of a phrase gave new meaning. It was really an excellent opportunity for the interpreter to help the men of his own party and to cast slight discredit on the opposing speakers.

This is not a picture of a Central American republic. It is what happens in the legislature of one of our sovereign States. New Mexico is still bilingual, with about half of its population doing all of its thinking

and most of its speaking in Spanish. For that reason the legislative and most of the court proceedings must be done in two languages. It creates a situation which is not only picturesque and interesting to observe, but which is a serious matter to all who are concerned with the development of the State and its people. It has a wider application, one not confined to New Mexico, for about two million Mexicans have recently come into the States to live. Thousands of boys and girls in their teens are mingling with our boys and girls in the schools. What is the answer? Racial amalgamation? Can these people of Latin extraction take on the American point of view? Have they done so, or are they doing so, in New Mexico where for seventy years. they have been exposed to American ways? The answer is vague. The situation in New Mexico is certainly worth studying.

New Mexico has a population of about two hundred thousand Spanish-speaking people. "Mexican" was the term universally applied to them within the memory of most of us. Suddenly, nobody knows just when or why, it became politic to use the hybrid term, "Spanish-American." However, the word "Mexican" seems to have more meaning in view of the

Yong New Mexico history of these people, who are now centuries removed from Spain; so I use it, intending no disrespect. They are Americans and have been citizens for three generations. They are not They are not immigrants. Their ancestors came to New Mexico and established homes three centuries ago. In 1846 they welcomed the American army of occupation, for they were glad to leave the slovenly rule of Mexico for the firm blue-coated administration which promised them protection from Indian depredations. They eagerly enlisted in the American army, they adopted the flag and the Constitution. They were and are the most loyal of patriots. They have fought in every war since 1848, and they have always performed creditably.

In spite of all this, the Mexicans are somehow not yet an integral part of the body politic. They wish to be. According to all political speeches and to all newspapers they are of vast political importance. Actually and admittedly, in all secret conclaves, they are a race apart, a problem.

The reason for this is not altogether a matter of language. The Mexican people of New Mexico are foreign to the American amalgamated citizen in their whole psychology as well as in their speech. From about 1600 to 1800 settlers were coming into New Mexico from Mexico or directly from Spain. In either case they brought the Spanish culture with them. Many of the first comers were men of high degree -adventurers from fine Spanish families, who knew literature, who wrote literature. The first poem

written on the soil of the United States was an epic of the conquest of New Mexico which was published in 1610. The first play of which this country can boast was written in New Mexico and presented at Alcalde in 1598. It has been performed annually at Alcalde ever since. It is now sometimes performed at Santa Fé to the complete boredom of an American audience which cannot stand its leisurely movement and which is entirely ignorant of the feat of arms it celebrates.

To the Mexican, "Los Moros" is still a thrilling play. To the typical Mexican all plays are thrilling. Life according to him should be all one great play. One must work, true enough. But why work all the time? Why glorify and exalt labor? Work, properly, is what one does to get money and leisure with which to play. The theory of the joy of the job is quite wasted on the Mexican. He knows better joys than jobs. So his work-days are well besprinkled with play-days. Every Sunday has its games and its dance; every saint's day has bigger games and dances; every day that can possibly be made to yield a reason for play is squeezed to the limit. So was life when the first Americans came. So is life now in spite of seventy years of American domination. So will life probably be until the last Mexican has married an American and the race is ended.

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The Mexican frankly hates work and refuses to be bullied into believing that he loves it. On the other hand, he admires authority and is quite willing to be bullied into anything not work. A Latin temperament, the Catholic Church and

three centuries of peonage have naturally produced a citizen who be lieves in authority. It is said that the Irishman, landing at Ellis Island, inquires, “What is the Government?" Being told that the government is Republican, he says at once, “Then I'm a Democrat. I'm agin the Government." The Mexican may not have asked in so many words, but he quickly learned that the Government which had promised him so much was Republican. So, wishing to manifest his loyalty, he at once became a Republican. That is, all the dons became Republicans. Their peones naturally followed suit. The Mexican is loyal to his country, yes, but his loyalty is first and fundamentally a personal matter. Each man is loyal to his patrón. In the old days the dons owned the lands which the peones worked. Even when the villagers owned their lands, the neighboring great man was recognized as patrón, and his word was law. In the home of the patrón, the father was ruler and every member of the family gave him absolute obedience. Even highly-educated dons say now, after generations of American influence, that they cannot understand loyalty to a principle which would take precedence over loyalty to a father.

The younger generation is showing signs of a change. Political lines are becoming more lax. Some of the young men who went overseas came back thrilled with the discovery that they need not vote as the patrón said. Some of them voted against him at least once, just to prove it. Ordinarily, however, the patrón still controls. In many cases the patrón is not now of Spanish extraction. As lands

have changed hands and old families have lost their hold, new-comers have taken their place. The great man is still patrón, whether he is of the old Spanish aristocracy or an Armenian trader, a Jew storekeeper, or a Scotch or Irish sheepman. The desire to lean on authority seems stronger than any racial feeling.

It is related of a certain election in New Mexico that the railroad ticketagent, an Englishman, was the only person living at the water-tank, which was the polling place. So the ballot-box and the ballots were sent to him. His attitude toward American politics was haughty and amused, but he read the papers and he thought the men heading the opposing tickets were equally capable. When election day came, the men of the precinct, most of whom had been herding sheep on the hillsides, rode in to vote. There were sixteen in all. They had asked for instructions from the don; but no word had come. They asked the ticket-agent, as the most authoritative-looking person in sight, what to do. Understanding the situation perfectly, the Englishman allowed his sense of humor to triumph and advised voting for the Democrat. The voice of authority was enough. All the ballots were accordingly so marked and cast, and the box was locked to return to the county-seat. Business over for the day, the voters adjourned to the sunny side of the water-tower, where cigarettes were rolled and a quiet little game was started. At noon when everybody had lost and won about equally, the don's messenger arrived with orders that they must vote for the Republican. His indignation when he heard what had