OH, SHOOT! 



cans, too, have quit making money out of 

 Mexico, for they have not the means with 

 which to reap their own blessings. Nor, at 

 this writing, are conditions improving to any 

 visible extent, and so, while war-shocked 

 peoples are bending to the task of increasing 

 the earth's productivity, one of the very 

 richest of its gardens lies idle. 



Guaymas was a busy town of fifteen thou- 

 sand inhabitants before Madero's day; its 

 shops were stocked ; its harbor was filled with 

 ships from every land; trains were rolling 

 northward heavy with freight; a boom had 

 struck the west coast. Lands were being 

 colonized; irrigation ditches were building; 

 ranches were growing; mines were opening. 

 To-day, Guaymas is one third its former size, 

 its shops are empty, and its harbor is the same. 

 Many of its prominent citizens are in exile; 

 three trains a week serve the whole west coast. 

 Even religion has been done away with and 

 the churches are closed. 



A citizen of Guaymas, a Mexican gentleman 

 of education, of force, and of surprising en- 

 ergy, pointed out to me the hazy hills across 

 the bay and said: 



"Yonder I have thousands of acres of the 

 232 



