IN OLD SAN ANTONIO 167 



conditions everywhere and always : roses in all 

 the gardens, and steam in the radiators ; chil- 

 dren, black and white, paddling about in the 

 mud barefooted and barelegged, and gentlemen 

 with heavy overcoats on, and, not unlikely, collars 

 turned up. Concerning such things, here in 

 " San Antone," you take your choice. For my- 

 self I have compromised the matter, keeping my 

 boots on and wearing, except when the sun has 

 been more than commonly persuasive, the light- 

 est of spring overcoats. 



The great drawback to a walking man's com- 

 fort, and just now the most impressive " feature " 

 of the city, — more impressive by far than the old 

 Spanish missions, the most famous of which, the 

 Alamo, is directly at my door, — has been the 

 mud ; deep and black, and more adhesive than glue. 

 If you go outside the city your shoes gather it 

 as a rolling snowball gathers snow (" to him that 

 hath shall be given," you repeat to yourself), 

 and it is like one of the labors of Hercules to 

 get it off. I walk about, scuffing and kicking, 

 with pounds of it on either overshoe, like a dark 

 fringe, and fancy I know how it feels to drag a 

 ball and chain. However, conditions are better- 

 ing in this respect, and in any case, things might 

 easily be worse. Yesterday morning, seeing the 

 sky clouded, I remarked to the elevator boy on 



