"With feet that make no sound upon the floor."
The twentieth-century sunshine lights up the dusky corners wherein are stored the relics of the Spanish conquerors and the followers of St. Francis. Perchance Francis d'Assisi himself, "revisiting the glimpses of the moon," glides along the shadows, drawn to the spot where, at so fearful a cost of life and treasure, his "holy faith" was guarded; or it may be the warrior in his armor who for an instant is dimly discerned through the dust-covered windows. Coronado, too, may haunt this scene. Many are those in the historic ranks who have contributed to the making of Santa Fé. It is the most composite city in American history. The very air is vocal with tradition and legend.
The little shops around the Plaza bear their signs mostly in Spanish. Yet mingling with these is the office of Mr. Lutz of the Santa Fé transcontinental line, with which the New Mexican capital is connected by a branch to Lamy, on the main line, where one may stand and converse with Denver,--a feat which may surprise the ghost of Coronado or of Juan de Oñate were it looking on; and Colonel Frost's daily journal, with its news of the world, is just at the corner. Not far away, too, is Mr. Linney, who represents the United States Signal Service, and regards Santa Fé as a most opportune town in which to pursue his most up-to-date study of atmospheric phenomena.
A remarkable personality in Santa Fé is Colonel Max Frost, the editor of "The New Mexican," the political leader of the Republican party and a man who, though blind and paralyzed, is simply a living encyclopædia of historic and contemporary events. At eight o'clock every morning Colonel Frost is in his office, at his desk, dictating to three expert stenographers, carrying on three different subjects simultaneously. Instead of his blindness being a hindrance to his work, he has, by the sheer force of his remarkable energy, transformed the obstacle into a stepping-stone. "I can do more work in ten minutes than most men can in an hour," he said, in reply to a question, "as, being blind, I have nothing to distract my attention. I put my mind on my work and keep it there."
Colonel Frost's experience is the most convincing testimony to the phenomenal power that lies in mental concentration. He cannot move without assistance,--physically he is a wreck; yet he dictates columns of work daily; he is the most influential leader of the political party, and he is one of the makers of New Mexico. Every line of copy in his daily paper is read to him before it goes to press, and the vigorous and brilliant editorial page is largely his own work. For four hours, every evening, Mrs. Frost reads to him from the great Eastern dailies, the periodicals, and new books. It is said in New Mexico that Colonel Frost has been the power behind the throne in territorial legislation since the time that General Lew. Wallace served as chief executive in 1879.