We are glad our friend wrote us in the frank spirit he did. For we now have a proper excuse to speak upon this subject. Surely fun and laughter and a sense of humor are desirable qualities in this life. And so why not in a magazine which tries sincerely to reflect life in some positive way? We have several articles in prospect which preach sound doctrines, but which are not without leaven in the way of humor. There are two classes of people who are fit subjects for the shafts of the satirist and the jibes of the jester; first, those who take themselves too seriously and, second, those derelicts and irresponsibles who, somehow, and usually from some unrecognized cause, fail to fit snugly into their environment. We laugh at the first because we are civilized, at the second because we are barbarians. And yet, this classification is made from the view-point of the sane. The insane man directs his jokes where they do not take root and, consequently, do not bring the applause of the audience. The insane man is always right. The sane man is sometimes wrong. cap and bells only at one's peril. Beneath his merry mask, the jester must be a good deal of a man and a philosopher; and, to be a philosopher, one must be intelligent and thoughtful. He must be a student of his environment and, above all, he must keep his liver in good order, lest his merriment be tinctured with bile. Between the jest and the diatribe there is all the difference in the world. A child could recognize it. But between the jest that is sweet and sympathetic, and the jest that carries bitterness and spleen, it is often difficult to differentiate, and the line of demarcation begins and ends at the point of view. The attempted jest that carries a sting without a laugh is, of course, not worthy of the name, and yet it is only the galled jade that winces. There is something in most of us that makes us laugh at a man chasing his hat through the streets, provided we are not the man. A politician, a grafter, malefactors in general, are no different from other people in their make-up. They dislike being made the butt of jokes. In a way, they like an open fight or bitter criticism. That is, they recognize it as all in the game and are prepared to stand up and meet it. But the humorous flank movement usually finds them unprepared. The names of such men as Voltaire, Cervantes, Dickens, Swift, Rabelais testify to the esteem in which the people hold this valuable social service. Thus it is well that a special effort be made constantly to furnish outlets to the jester, the good-natured reformer, the man who can smile and make others smile while, at the same time, hewing to a definite serious plan. Life is a battle for truth and truth is elusive. To get at truth, one must invariably surmount quantities of fixed habits of thought, sometimes called prejudice, James J. Hill and innate conservatism or inertia. Perhaps the quickest and safest way to attack the foes of truth is through the keen, goodhumored analysis of the joker. At any rate, in olden times the jester was the only one at court who dared to tell the truth to the king. First the king laughed First the king laughed and then he pondered. On the other hand, one may don the On Wheat Miss A feature of the July OUTING MAGAZINE will be of timely importance. Agnes C. Laut interviews James J. Hill, the railroad builder, and reports in the July number his views upon "Low Wheat Yields and the Remedy." A crisis in wheat production is reached. Mr. Hill's dispassionate statement of the case and his shrewd suggestions for remedy must prove of universal interest. UR stay in Tepic had been a pleasant one, and with some regret we mounted and rode away from the clear, cool atmosphere of this delightful old mountain town to return to the humidity and heat of the lower altitudes. The morning was fine and invigorating, our horses fresh after a two days' rest, and we trotted out at a smart pace upon the road to Navarette, chatting of our experiences as we rode. At Espino we remembered the story of Lozado's execution there of the judge and the thief; and at San Louis, another village by the way, we saw a cliff over which the same Lozado used playfully to suspend federal prisoners at the ends of ropes. CROSSES BY THE WAYSIDE places where people had met sudden death. One of the crosses, of quite recent origin, marked the spot where a woman had fallen over a cliff one night. She was a passenger in the stage coach, and to relieve herself from a cramped position in the diligencia descended from the vehicle to walk up a steep incline. The road here overhangs a precipice, and in the darkness the unfortunate woman, failing to see the danger, ventured too near the edge and was hurled to instant death upon the rocks below. The good-natured stage driver erected the cross to commemorate the occasion, and doubtless it quieted any qualms of conscience he may have felt for his own lack of care of his passenger. It was early in the afternoon when we reined up at Navarette, but too late to attempt the still miry road to Santiago Ixcuintla in the darkness that would certainly overtake us before reaching there; so we accepted a hearty invitation to spend the night at the now familiar hostelry. The only other guest at the hotel These, we were told, indicated was a Mexican Jew with his mozo en route Copyrighted, 1909, by The OUTING Publishing Company. All rights reserved. At intervals by the roadside we noticed small cairns, each of them surmounted by a cross. from Tepic to Santiago Ixcuintla in a twowheeled cart drawn by a horse. The Jewish gentleman, who was of enormous proportions, occupied a cot in the common sleeping room. When we saw the mozo dressing his master in the morning Randall regretted the fact that he had no moving picture machine to photograph the pair. The scene certainly would have brought down any American house, had it been possible to preserve it on films for future exhibition. They started long before daylight, and we overtook them later in dire straits. The cart was stuck fast in the middle of a mudhole, the Jew could not get out of the vehicle, and he was emitting loud and voluble Spanish phrases with intonations that suggested profanity, but my unfamiliarity with the language precludes my saying that the utterances were not entirely what they should have been under the circumstances. The mozo was just returning from a near-by ranch house. with a couple of borrowed mules to snake the outfit to dry land, and we halted to make certain that the unfortunate one was duly rescued before we rode on. We did not see them again and whether they met with further mishaps I cannot say. rather to be accepted as a matter of course and all in a day's work. Back in the hills a noted bandit had been holding up travelers and occasionally shooting one, thereby causing them considerable inconvenience. He had seventeen murders charged against him, of which he was very proud, it was said. Two or three days before our arrival a report came to Santiago Ixcuintla that this gentleman of the road was operating much nearer the town than usual, and an officer with a They were not adverse to having their pictures taken. A BATTLE WITH BANDITS At nine o'clock in the morning we crossed the ferry into Santiago Ixcuintla. Here we learned incidentally that an officer, badly wounded by bandits, had just been brought in from the hills for surgical treatment. There was no noticeable excitement over the occurrence, such as one might expect in a small town like this upon such an event, and it seemed posse was dispatched to round him up. The officer posted his men near the point where the brigand was supposed to be stopping, and with one man rode down the trail to reconnoiter. Suddenly and unexpectedly he came upon the desperado, with a companion, and instantly gun play commenced. When the fight was over the officer was badly shot up, his man was dead, the chief desperado was dead, and the other bad man had disappeared in the direction of the mountains. It may be said that there are not many of these occurrences now. The Rurales, or mounted police, have pretty nearly put a stop to brigandage. Several years ago, during the presidency of Comonfort, the government recognized the wisdom of the old adage, "Set a thief to catch a thief," and offered pardon and protection to all brigands who would come in and enlist as Rurales. Most of them took advantage of the offer, and with these men on the side of law and order, holdups soon became infrequent, and the Rurales developed into a wonderfully efficient mounted force to hunt down bandits. They are fearless riders, they know every mountain pass and fastness, and when |