 9. Visits from Spaniards, Visit from the President, Disquisition, Poblana Dress, Bernardo the Matador, Bullfight Extraordinary, Plaza de Toros, Fireworks, Portrait of CN, Fancy Ball, Dress, Costume of the Patronesses, Beauty in Mexico, Doctor's Visit, Cards of Fair Part, Marquesa de San Roman, Toilet in Morning Visits of Ceremony, Attempt at Robbery, Murder of a Consul, La Guerra Rodríguez, Doctor Plan, M. D. Humboldt, Anecdote, Former Customs, 5th January. Yesterday, Sunday, a great day here for visiting after Mass is over. We had a concourse of Spaniards, all of whom seemed anxious to know whether or not I intended to wear a Poblana dress at the Fancy Ball, and seemed wonderfully interested about it. Two young ladies or women of Puebla, introduced by Senor Blanc, came to proffer their services in giving me all the necessary particulars and dressed the hair of Josefa, a little Mexican girl to show me how it should be arranged, mentioned several things still wanting and told me that everyone was much pleased at the idea of my going in a Poblana dress. I was rather surprised that everyone should trouble themselves about it. About twelve o'clock the president in full uniform attended by Zaid's de Camp paid me a visit, and sat about half an hour, very amiable as usual. Shortly after came more visits, and just as we had supposed they were all concluded, and we were going to dinner, we were told that the Secretary of State, the Ministers of War and of the Interior, and others were in the drawing-room. And what do you think was the purport of their visit? To adjure me by all that was most alarming, to discard the idea of making my appearance in a Poblana dress. They assured us that Poblanas, generally were Femes de Reyn, that they wore no stockings, and that the wife of the Spanish Minister should by no means assume, even for one evening such a costume. I brought in my dresses show their length and their propriety, but in vain, and in fact, as to their being in the right, there could be no doubt, and nothing but a kind motive could have induced them to take this trouble. So I yielded with a good grace, and thanked the Cabinet Council for their timely warning, though fearing that in this land of procrastination it would be difficult to procure another dress for the fancy ball, for you must know that our luggage is still toiling its weary way on the backs of mules from Vera Cruz to the capital. They had scarcely gone when Senor Blanc brought a message from several of the principal ladies here whom we do not even know, and who had requested that as a stranger I should be informed of the reasons which render the Poblana dress objectionable in this country, especially on any public occasion like this ball. I was really thankful for my escape. Just as I was dressing for dinner a note was brought, marked Reservada Private, the contents of which appeared to me more odd than pleasant. I have since heard, however, that the writer Don Jose Arnaiz is an old man and a sort of privileged character who interferes in everything whether it concerns him or not. I translate it for your benefit. The dress of a Poblana is that of a woman of no character. The lady of the Spanish minister is a lady in every sense of the word. However much she may have compromised herself, she ought neither to go as a Poblana nor in any other character but her own. So says to the Senor de Sien Jose Arnaiz who esteems him as much as possible. 6. Early this morning, this being the day of the bullfight extraordinary, placards were put up as I understand on all the corners of the streets announcing it accompanied by a portrait of C. N. Count C. A. came soon after breakfast accompanied by Bernardo, the first matador whom he brought to present to us. I send you the white satin note of invitation with its silver lace and tassels to show you how beautifully they can get up such things here. The matador is a handsome but heavy-looking man, though said to be active and skillful. 7. Yesterday towards the afternoon there were great fears of rain which would have caused a postponement of the combat. However, the day cleared up, the bulls little knowing how much their fate depended upon the clouds. A box in the centre with a carpet and a silver lamp had been prepared for us, but we went with our friends, the C. A.s, into their box adjoining. The scene to me especially who have not seen the magnificence of the Madred Arena was animating and brilliant in the highest degree. Fancy and immense amphitheatre, with four great tiers of boxes and a range of uncovered seats in front, the whole crowded almost a suffocation, the boxes filled with ladies in full dress, and the seats below by gaily dressed and most enthusiastic spectators. Two military bands of music playing beautiful airs from the operas, an extraordinary variety of brilliant costumes all lighted up by the eternally deep blue sky, ladies and peasants and officers in full uniform, and you may conceive that it must have been altogether a varied and curious spectacle. About half past six a flourish of trumpets announced the president, who came in uniform with his staff and took his seat to the music of Cuera, Cuera, Ibellici trombi. Shortly after the Matadors and Picadors, the former on foot, the latter on horseback, made their entry saluting all around the arena and were received with loud cheering. Bernardo's dress of blue and silver was very superb and cost him five hundred dollars. The signal was given, the gates were thrown open and a bull sprang into the arena, not a great fierce looking animal as they are in Spain, but a small, angry, wild looking beast with a troubled eye. Thrice sounds the clarion and lo the signal falls, the den expands and expectation mute, gapes round the silent circles peopled walls, bounds with one lashing spring the mighty brute and wildly staring spurns with sounding foot, the sand nor blindly rushes on his foe. Here, there, he points his threatening front to suit his first attack, wide waving to and fro his angry tail, red rolls his eyes dilated glow. A picture equally correct and poetical, that first pose of the bull is superb, pasta in her media did not surpass it. Meanwhile the Matadors and the Banderieros shook their colored scarves at him, the Picadors poked at him with their lances. He rushed at the front and tossed up the scarves which they threw at him, while they sprung over the arena, galloped after the others, striking the horses so that, along with their riders, they occasionally rolled in the dust, both, however, almost instantly recovering their equilibrium, in which there is no time to be lost. Then the Matadors would throw fireworks, crackers adorned with streaming ribbons, which stuck on his horns as he tossed his head, enveloped him in a blaze of fire. Occasionally the Picadors would catch hold of the bull's tail, and, passing it under his own right leg, wheel his horse around, forced the bullock to gallop backwards and throw him on his face. Maddened with pain, streaming with blood, stuck full of darts and covered with fireworks, the unfortunate beast went galloping round and round, plunging blindly at man and horse and frequently trying to leap the barrier, but driven back by the waving hats and shouting of the crowd. At last, as he stood at bay and nearly exhausted, the Matador ran up and gave him the mortal blow, considered a peculiar proof of skill. The bull stopped as if he felt that his hour were come. Staggered, made a few plunges at nothing, and fell. A finishing stroke, and the bull expired. The trumpet sounded, the music played, for horses galloped in tide to a yoke to which the bull was fastened, and swiftly dragged out of the arena. This last part had a fine effect, reminding one of the Roman sacrifices. In a similar manner eight bulls were done to death. The scene is altogether fine, the address amusing, but the wounding and tormenting of the bull is sickening, and as here the tips of his horns are blunted, one has more sympathy with him than with his human adversaries. It cannot be good to accustom a people to such bloody sights. Yet, let me confess, that though at first I covered my face and could not look, little by little I grew so much interested in the scene that I could not take my eyes off it, and I can easily understand the pleasure taken in these barbarous diversions by those accustomed to them from childhood. The bull fight, having terminated amidst loud and prolonged cheering from the crowd, a tree of fireworks erected in the midst of the arena, was lighted and amidst a blaze of colored light appeared, first the arms of the Republic, the Eagle and Nopal, and above a full-length portrait of CN, represented by a figure in a blue and silver uniform. Down fell the Mexican Eagle with a crash at his feet while he remained burning brightly, and lighted up the fireworks in the midst of tremendous shouts and cheers. Thus terminated this function extra-ordinaria, and when all was over we went to dine at Countess C.A.'s, and had some music in the evening and afterwards returned home tolerably tired. Tenth. The fancy ball took place last evening in the theatre, and although owing either to the change of climate, or to the dampeness of the house I have been obliged to keep my room since the day of the bull fight and to decline a pleasant dinner at the English ministers, I thought it advisable to make my appearance there. Having discarded the costume of the light-headed Poble Amanas, I adopted that of a virtuous Roman Contandida, simple enough to be run up in one day. A white skirt, red bodice, with blue ribbons and lace veil put on square behind, I propose to which head-dress it is very common amongst the Indians, to wear a piece of stuff folded square and laid flat upon the head, in this Italian fashion, and as it is not fastened I cannot imagine how they trot along without letting it fall. We went to the theatre about eleven, and found the entrée, though crowded, with carriages very quiet and orderly. The coup d'oeil on entering was extremely gay and certainly very amusing. The ball given for the benefit of the poor was under the patronage of the latest C.A., G.A., Guére, and others, but such was the original dirtiness and bad condition of the theatre, that to make it decent they had expended nearly all the proceeds. As it was, and considering the various drawbacks, the arrangements were very good. Handsome lusters had superseded the lanterns with their tallow candles, the boxes were hung with bright silk draperies, and a canopy of the same drawn up in the form of a tent covered the whole ballroom. The orchestra also was tolerably good. The boxes were filled with ladies presenting an endless succession of china-crepe shawls of every colour and variety, and a monotony of diamond earrings, while in the theatre itself, if every ball might be termed a fancy ball, this was that ball. Of Swiss peasants, Scotch peasants, and all manner of peasants, there were a goodly assortment, as also of Turks, Highlanders, and men in plain clothes. But, being public, it was not, of course, select, and amongst many well-dressed people there were hundreds who, assuming no particular character, had exerted their imagination to appear more fanciful and had succeeded. One, for example, would have a scarlet satin petticoat, and over it a pink satin robe, with scarlet ribbons to match. Another a short blue satin dress, beneath which appeared a handsome purple satin petticoat, the whole trimmed with yellow bows. They looked like the signs of the zodiac. All had diamonds and pearls, old and young, and middle-aged, including little children of whom there were many. The lady patronesses were very elegant. The Senora de Guerre wore a headdress, in the form of a net, entirely composed of large pearls and diamonds, in itself a fortune. The Senora de C.A. as Madame de la Valière, in black velvet and diamonds, looking pretty as usual, but the cold of the house obliged her to muffle up in furs and boas, and so to hide her dress. The Senora de C.A. as Mary, Queen of Scots, in black velvet and pearls with a splendid diamond necklace, was extremely handsome. She wore a cap introduced by the Albini, in the character of the Scottish Queen, but which, though pretty in itself, is a complete deviation from the beautiful simplicity of the real Queen Mary cap. She certainly looked as if she had arrived at her prime without knowing, fathering gay. Various ladies were introduced to me who are only waiting to receive our cards of fair part before they call. Amongst the girls, the best dresses that I observed were the Senoritas de F.D., though one-handsome, with a figure and face of a Spanish peasant, the other much more graceful, and intelligent looking, though with less actual beauty. However, so many of the most fashionable people were in their boxes, that I am told this is not a good occasion on which to judge of the beauty or style of toilette of the Mexican women, besides which these fancy balls, being uncommon, they would probably look better in their usual costume. On the whole I saw few striking beauties, little grace, and very little good dancing. There was too much velvet and satin, and the dresses were too much loaded. The diamonds, though superb, were frequently ill-set. The dresses, compared with the actual fashion, were absurdly short, and the feet, naturally small, were squeezed into shoes, still smaller, which is destructive to grace whether in walking or dancing. There was a young gentleman pointed out to me as being in the costume of a Highlander. How I wished that Sir William Cumming, Macleod of Macleod, or some veritable Highland Chieftain, could suddenly have appeared to annihilate him, and show the people here what the dress really is. There were various unfortunate children bundled up in long satin or velvet dresses, covered with blonde and jewels, and with artificial flowers in their hair. The room was excessively cold, nor was the ancient odor of the theatre entirely obliterated, nor indeed do I think that all the perfumes of Arabia would overpower it. Having walked about and admired all the varieties of fancy costumes, I, being nearly frozen, went to the Countess C's box on the pit-tier, and enveloped myself in a cloak. They pointed out the most distinguished persons in the boxes, amongst others the family of the E.S., who seemed very handsome, with brilliant colors and fine teeth. We remained until three in the morning, and declined all offers of refreshment, though, after all, a cup of hot chocolate would not have been a miss. There was supper somewhere, but I believe, attended only by gentlemen. I had the satisfaction in passing out to see numerous ladies on their partner's arms, and all bedesined as they were with finery, stop under the lamps and light their cigars, cool and pretty. 16. I have passed nearly a week in a slight fever, shivering and hot. I was attended by a doctor of the country who seems the most harmless creature imaginable. Every day he felt my pulse and gave me some little innocent mixture. But what he specially gave me was a lessen in polite conversation. Every day we had the following dialogue as he rose to take leave. 17. Madame. This by the bedside. I am at your service. Many thanks, sir. 18. Madame. This at the foot of the bed. Know me for your most humble servant. 19. Good morning, sir. 20. Madame. Here he stopped beside a table. I kiss your feet. 21. Sir, I kiss your hand. 21. Madame. This near the door. My poor house and all in it. Myself, though useless, all I have is yours. 22. Many thanks, sir. 23. He turns round and opens the door, again turning round as he does so. 24. Adieu, Madame, your servant. 25. Adieu, sir. 26. He goes out, partly reopens the door, and puts in his head. 27. Good morning, Madame. 27. This civility so lengthened out as if parting were such sweet sorrow, between doctor and patient seems rather misplaced. 28. It is here considered more polite to say, senorita than senora, even to married women, and the lady of the house is generally called by her servants La Niña, the little girl, even though she be over eighty. 29. This last custom is still more common in Havana, where the old negrises, who have always lived in the family and are accustomed to call their young mistresses by this name, never change whatever be her age. 30. I have received a packet of letters which have done me more good than the old doctor's visits. The captain left us yesterday and took charge of a box of chocolate stamped with various figures, and of some curious dulces for you. Our cards giving the mehicans the tardy information of our arrival were sent out some days ago. I copy one that you may have a specimen of the style, which looks for all the world, like that of a shop advertisement, purporting that Don Blanc makes wigs, dresses hair, and so forth, while Donia Blanc washes lace and does a fine linen. Don A. C. de la Barca, enviado extraordinario e ministro penipotentiario di HMC cerca de la Repubblica Mexicana, y su esposa, Donia F. E. C. de la Barca, participa a su rieguada a este capital y se afrencen a su disposición en la plazuela de Buenavista Footnote 1. Don A. C. de la Barca, enviado extraordinario e ministro penipotentiario di HCM, and his lady, Donia F. E. C. de la Barca, inform you of their arrival in this capital, and put themselves at your disposal in the street of Buenavista. 18. For the last few days our rooms have been filled with visitors, and my eyes are scarcely yet accustomed to the display of diamonds, pearls, silks, satins, and blondes, and velvets in which the ladies have paid their first visits of etiquette. A few of the dresses I shall record for your benefit, not as being richer than the others, but that I happen to recollect them best. 19. The Marquesa de San Roman, an old lady who has traveled a great deal in Europe, and is very distinguished for talents and information. She has the Grand Cross of Maria Luisa of Spain, is of a noble Venetian family, and on to the Duke of Canizaro. Her dress was a very rich black Ginoa velvet, black blonde mantilla, and a very splendid parour of diamonds. She seems in exceedingly delicate health. She and her contemporaries are fast fading away, the last record of the days of visceroity. In their place a new race has started up, whose manners and appearance have little of the vielle cour about them. Chiefly. It is said wives of military men sprung from the hotbeds of the revolutions, ignorant and full of pretensions as parvenous who have risen by chance and not by merit must be. I continue my list after the fashion of the court journal. Countess de Esso, under dress of rich violet satin, gown of black blonde, mantilla of black blonde, diamond earrings, five or six large diamond, bruxes fastening, the mantilla, necklace of large pearls and diamond, sievegni. The senora s, dress of white satin, gown of white blonde, white blonde mantilla, pearls, diamonds, and white satin shoes. Madame sr, black velvet dress, white blonde mantilla, pearls, diamonds, short sleeves, and white satin shoes. The senora d, a, d, fawn-colored satin dress, black blonde mantilla, diamonds and black satin shoes. The senora b, a, the wife of a general, extremely rich and who has the handsomest house in Mexico. Dress of purple velvet embroidered all over with flowers of white silk, short sleeves and embroidered corsage, white satin shoes and has pasageur, a deep flounce of mechelin appearing below the velvet dress which was short, a mantilla of black blonde fastened by three diamond agrates, diamond earrings of extraordinary size, a diamond necklace of immense value and beautifully set, a necklace of pearls valued at twenty thousand dollars, a diamond sievegni, a gold chain going three times around the neck and touching the knees, on every finger two diamond rings like little watches. As no other dress was equally magnificent with her I conclude my description, only observing that no Mexican lady has yet paid me her first morning visit without diamonds. They have few opportunities for displaying their jewels so that were it not on the occasion of some such morning visit of etiquette the diamonds would lie in their cases wasting their serene rays in darkness. Last night an attempt was made to break into the house, but our fine little bulldog Hercules, a present from Señor A.D. kept his grounds so well and barked so furiously that the servants were awakened, even the porter, the soundest slumberer amongst them, and the robbers escaped without doing further mischief, then inflicting a severe wound on the poor animal's paw which has made him for the present quite lame. Apropos to which matters a most cruel murder of which I have just been hearing the particulars, was committed not very long ago in this neighborhood upon Mr. M., the Swiss Consul. He was also a leather merchant, and one morning, having sent out his porter on some commission, a carriage drove up to the door, and three gentlemen presented themselves to Mr. M., requesting to speak to him on business. He begged them to walk in, and there entered a general in uniform, a young officer and a monk. Mr. M. requested to be informed of their business when suddenly the general, seizing hold of him whilst the others went to secure the door, exclaimed, We have not come to hear about your goods. We want your money. The poor man astounded at perceiving the nature of his customers, assured them he kept about little money in the house, but proceeded instantly to open his private drawers, and them to their contents, amounting in fact to a trifle of some few hundred dollars. Finding that he had indeed no more to give them they prepared to depart, when the monk said, We must kill him, or he will recognize us. No, said the officers, leave him and come along, there is no danger. Go on, said the monk, I follow, and turning back, stab the consul to the heart. The three then re-enter the carriage and drove off at full speed. A few minutes afterwards the porter returning found his master bathed in blood, and rushing out to a neighboring gambling-house gave the alarm. Several gentlemen ran to his assistants, but he died in an hour after, having given all the particulars of the dress and appearance of his murderers, and that of their carriage. By these tokens they were soon afterwards discovered, and by the energy of the governor, then Count C.A., they were arrested and hanged upon the trees in front of our house, together with the real Mexican colonel who had kindly lent the ruffians his carriage for the occasion. It is seldom that crime here meets with so prompt a punishment. Our friend Count C.A., when governor of Mexico, was celebrated for his energy in El Perseguimiento de los Ladrones, persecuting the robbers, as it is called. It is said upon one occasion his seal carried him rather far. Various robberies having been committed in the city he had received a hint from the government, that the escape of the perpetrators was considered by them as a proof that he had grown lukewarm in the public service. A few days afterwards riding in the streets he perceived a notorious robber, who, the moment he observed himself recognized, darted down another street with a swiftness of an arrow. The governor pursued him on horseback. The robber made all speed towards the square, and rushed into the sanctuary of the cathedral. The Count galloped in after him, and dragged him from his place of refuge near the altar. This violation of the church's sanctity was, of course, severely reprimanded. But, as the governor remarked, they could no longer accuse him of want of zeal in the discharge of his duty. He took as his porter the captain of a gang of robbers, ordering him to stand at the door, and to seize any of his former acquaintances who might pass his own pardon, depending on his conduct in this respect. Riding out one day to his country place with his lady, this man accompanying them as a servant, they were overtaken by a messenger who desired the return of the Count to the city, upon some urgent and important business. It was already dusk, yet the Count, trusting to the honour of the robber, ordered him to conduct his lady to the Hacienda, and she alone on horseback with his alarming guide performed her journey in safety. Before I conclude this letter, I must tell you that I received a visit this morning from a very remarkable character, well known here by the name of La Guiera. The fair, Rodriguez, said to have been many years ago celebrated by Humboldt as the most beautiful woman he had seen in the whole course of his travels. Considering the lapse of time which has passed since that distinguished traveller visited these parts, I was almost astonished when her card was sent up, with a request for admission, and still more so to find that in spite of years and of the furrows which it pleases time to plow in the loveliest faces, La Guiera retains a profusion of fair curls, without one grey hair, a set of beautiful white teeth, very fine eyes, and great vivacity. Her sister, the Marquesa de Hulwapa, lately dead is said to have been also a woman of great talent and extraordinary conversational powers. She is another of the ancient noblies who has dropped off. The physician who attended her in her last illness, a Frenchman of the name of Plann, in great repute here, has sent in a bill to her executors of ten thousand dollars, which although it does not excite any great astonishment, the family refuse to pay, and there is a lawsuit in consequence. The extortions of medical men in Mexico, especially of foreign physicians, have arrived at such a height that a person of moderate fortune must hesitate before putting himself into their hands. One, a rich old lady in delicate health, and with no particular complaint, is a sureer fund for them than a silver mine. Footnote one, the Mexican government has since taken this matter into consideration, and is making regulations which render it necessary for a medical man to possess a certain degree of knowledge, and to have recited a specified time in the city before he is permitted to practice. They are also occupied in fixing a certain sum for medical attendance. I found Laguera very agreeable, and a perfect living chronicle. She is married to her third husband, and had three daughters, all celebrated beauties. The countess de Regla, who died in New York, and was buried in the cathedral there, the Marquesa de Guadalupe, also dead, and the Marquesa de E, now a handsome widow. We spoke of Humboldt and talking of herself as of a third person. She related to me all the particulars of his first visit, and his admiration of her, that she was then very young, though married, and the mother of two children, and that when he came to visit her mother, she was sitting sowing in a corner, where the baron did not perceive her, until talking very earnestly on the subject of cochinial. He inquired if he could visit a certain district, where there was a plantation of nopales. To be sure, said Laguera from her corner, we can take empty Humboldt there, whereupon he first perceiving her stood amazed, and at length exclaimed, Falgame Dios, who is that girl? Afterwards he was constantly with her, and more captivated, it is said, by her wit than by her beauty, considering her a sort of western madame de Steyl, all which leads me to suspect that the grave traveller was considerably under the influence of her fascinations, and that neither mines nor mountains, geography nor geology, petrified shells nor outpen Calstein had occupied him to the exclusion of a slight stratum of flirtation. It is a comfort to think that sometimes even the great Humboldt nods. One of Laguera's stores is too original to be lost. A lady of high rank having died in Mexico, her relatives undertook to commit her to her last resting place, habited according to the then prevailing fashion in her most magnificent dress, that which she had worn at her wedding. This dress was a wonder of luxury even in Mexico. It was entirely composed of the finest lace, and the flounces were made of a species of point which cost fifty dollars, avara, the Mexican yard. Its equal was unknown. It was also ornamented and looped up at certain intervals, with bows of ribbon very richly embroidered in gold. In this dress the Condesa de Blanc was laid in her coffin, thousands of dear friends crowding to view her beautiful costume de mort, and at length she was placed in her tomb, the key of which was entrusted to the sacristan. From the tomb to the opera is a very abrupt transition. Nevertheless, both have a share in this story. A company of French dancers appeared in Mexico, a twentieth-rate ballet, and the chief Dan Seuss was a little French damsel remarkable for the shortness of her robes, her coquetry and her astonishing pirouettes. On the night of her favorite ballet, Mademoiselle Pauline made her entree in a succession of pirouettes, and, poising on her toe, looked around for a probation when a sudden thrill of horror accompanied by a murmur of indignation pervaded the assembly. Mademoiselle Pauline was equipped in the very dress in which the defunct countess had been buried. Lace, point flounces, gold ribbons impossible to mistake it. Hardly had the curtain dropped when the little Dan Seuss found herself surrounded by competent authorities, questioning her as to where and how she had obtained her dress. She replied that she had bought it at an extravagant price from a French modiste in the city. She had rifled no tomb, but honestly paid down golden ounces in exchange for her lawful property. To the modists went the officers of justice. She also pleaded innocent. She had bought it of a man who had brought it to her for sale, and had paid him much more than a pas de orre, as indeed it was worth. By dint of further investigation the man was identified and proved to be the Sacristain of Saint Blanc. Short-sighted Sacristain, he was arrested and thrown into prison, and one benefit resulted from his cupidity. Since in order to avoid throwing temptation in the way of future Sacristans, it became the custom, after the body had lain in state, for some time in magnificent robes, to substitute a plain dress previous to placing the coffin in the vault. A poor vanity, after all. I was told by a lady here that on the death of her grandchild he was not only enveloped in rich lace, but the diamonds of three condesas and four marquesas were collected together and put on him, necklaces, bracelets, rings, bruises and tiaras to the value of several hundred thousand dollars. The street was hung with draperies and a band of music played, whilst he was visited by all the titled relatives of the family in his dead splendor, poor little baby. Yet his mother mourned for him as for all her blighted hopes, and the last sion of a noble house. Grief shows itself in different ways, yet one might think that when its sixth constellation in display must be less profound than when it shuns it. END OF LATTER VIII. San Fernando, House of Pérez de Galvez, a removal, size of the houses, old monastery, view by sunset, evening visits, Mexican etiquette, a night view from the azotea, tacubaya, mageis, making of pulque, organos and nopal, environs of Mexico, miracle, hacienda, view from the countess C.A.'s house, arzobispado, anecdote, comparative view of beauty, indians rancheritas, Mexican cordiality, masses for the dead, San Augustine, form of invitation, death of a senator, a mistake, San Fernando, 25th February. We have been engaged for some time past in the disagreeable occupations, first a finding, then a furnishing, and lastly of entering into a new house. We were very anxious to hire that of the Marquesa de Julwapa, which is pretty, well situated and has a garden, but the agent, after making us wait for his decision more than a fortnight, informed us that he had determined to sell it. House rent is extremely high, nothing tolerable to be had under two thousand five hundred dollars per annum, unfurnished. There is also an extraordinary custom of paying a sum called traspaso, sometimes to the amount of fourteen thousand dollars, taking your chance of having the money repaid you by the next person who takes the house. We next endeavored to procure a house not far from our present residence, a palace in fact, which I mentioned to you before as having been occupied at one time by Santana, and at another by the English Legation, but the present proprietor cannot be prevailed upon to let it. It has a beautiful garden and all of ground, but it's not a very secure abode except with a guard of soldiers. We at length came to the determination of taking up our quarters here. It is a handsome new house, built by Henedal G., and has the fault of being only too large. Built in a square, like all mehican houses, the ground floor which has a stone paved court, with a fountain in the middle, contains about twenty rooms, besides outhouses, coach house, stables, pigeon house, garden house, etc. The second story where the principal apartments are, the first floor being chiefly occupied by servants, has the same number of rooms, with cold room, wood room, bathroom, and water everywhere, in the court below, in the garden and on the azotea, which is very spacious, and where, where the house our own, we might build a mirador, and otherwise ornament it, but to build for another is too heroic. The great defect in all these houses is their want of finish, the great doors that will not shut properly, and the great windows down to the ground which, in the rainy season, will certainly admit water, making these residences appear something like a cross-breed between a palace and a barn, the splendor of the one that is comfort of the other. I will not inflict upon you the details of all our petty annoyances caused by procrastinating tradesmen. Suffice it to say, that the Mexican mañana, tomorrow, if properly translated means never. As to prices, I conclude we pay for being foreigners and diplomats, and will not believe in a first experience. However, we are settled at last, and find the air here much purer than in the heart of the city, while the maladies and epidemics so common there are here almost unknown. Behind this house is a very small garden, bounded on one side by the great wall, which encloses the orchard of the old monastery of San Fernando, within whose vast precincts only seven or eight monks now linger. It is an immense building, old and gray and time worn, with church adjoining, and spacious lands appertaining to it. At all times it is picturesque, but by moonlight or sunset it forms a most olden time vision. At that hour standing alone in the high-walled garden, when the convent bells are tolling, and the convent itself with its iron barred gothic windows and its gray-green olive trees that look so unreal and lifeless, is tinged by the last rays of the sun, the whole seems like a vision, or a half-remembered sketch, or a memory of a romance. Then the sun sets behind the snow-crowned mountains with a bright fiery red, covering their majestic sides with a rosy glow, while great black clouds come sailing along like the wings of night, and then is the hour for remembering that this is Mexico, and in spite of all the evils that have fallen over it, the memory of the romantic past hovers there still. But the dark clouds sail on and envelop the crimson tents, yet lingering and blushing on the lofty mountains, and like monstrous night-birds brood there in silent watch, and gradually the whole landscape, mountains and sky, convent and olive trees, look gray and sad and seem to melt away in the dim twilight. Then the bright moon rises and flings her silver veil over the mountains, and lights up the plains, glittering and quivering upon the old grey stones, and a sound of military music is heard in the distance far and faint, and all the bells are tolling from old San Fernando that repeats himself like a sexagenarian, from the towers of the cathedral, from many a distant church and convent, and above the rumbling of carriages in the home of the city are heard the notes of a hymn, now rising, now falling on the ear as a religious procession passes along to some neighbouring temple. But it grows late, a carriage enters the courtyard, a visit, there is no romance here. Men and women are the same everywhere, whether enveloped in the graceful mantilla, or wearing her balts last, whether wrapped in Spanish cloak, or Mexican saropee, or Scottish plaid. The manners of the ladies here are extremely kind, but Spanish etiquette and compliments are beyond measure tiresome. After having embraced each lady who enters according to the fashion, which after all seems cordial to say the least of it, and seated the lady of most consequence on the right side of the sofa, a point of great importance, the following dialogue is direcure. How are you? Are you well? At your service and you? Without novelty, say novedad, at your service. I am rejoiced, and how are you senora? At your disposal, and you? A thousand thanks, and the senor? At your service without novelty, etc., etc., etc. Besides, before sitting down there is pray be seated, pass first, senorita, no madame, pray pass first. Via, well, to oblige you, without further ceremony, I dislike compliments and etiquette. And it is a fact that there is no real etiquette, but the most perfect, laiz y aler, in the world. All these are mere words, tokens of good will. If it is in the morning there is the additional question of, how have you passed the night, and the answer, in your service? Even in Mexico the weather affords a legitimate opening for a conversation-battery, but this chiefly, when it rains or looks dull, which occasioning surprise, gives rise to observation. Besides a slight change in the degree of heat or cold which we should not observe, they comment upon. The visit over, the ladies re-embrace, the lady of the house following her guest, to the top of the staircase, and again compliments are given and received. Madame, you know that my house is at your disposal. A thousand thanks, madame. Mine is at yours, and though useless know me for your servant, and command me in everything that you may desire. Addue, I hope you may pass a good night, etc., etc., etc. At the bottom of the first landing-place the visitors again turn round to catch the eye of the lady of the house, and the addues are repeated. All this which struck me at first already appears quite natural and would scarce be worth mentioning, but as affording a contrast to our slight and indifferent manner of receiving and taking leave of our guests, all the ladies address each other, and are addressed by gentlemen by their Christian names, and those who have paid me more than one or two visits, use the same familiar mode of address to me. Amongst women I rather like this, but it somewhat startles my ideas of the fitness of things to hear a young man address a married woman as Maria, Antonia, Anita, etc. However, things must be taken as they are meant, and as no familiarity is intended, none should be supposed. But these visitors are gone, and into the open court the Consolitary Moon is shining. All clouds have passed away, and the blue sky is so blue as to dazzle the eyes even in the moonlight. Each star shines out bright, golden, and distinct, and it seems a sin to sleep and to lose so lovely a night. But for a true night view, mount upon the azotea, and see all Mexico sleeping at your feet, the whole valley and the city itself floating in moonlight, the blue vault above gemmed with stars, and the mountains all bathed in silver, the white volcanoes seeming to join earth and sky. Here even Salvatore's genius would fail. We must evoke the ghost of Byron. The pencil can do nothing. Poetry alone might give a faint idea of a scene so wondrously beautiful. 26. We went yesterday with Mr. M. Blank, his wife and daughter and a padre, to visit the Archbishop's Palace at Tacubaya, a pretty village about four miles from Mexico, and a favorite ride of ours in the morning. The country round Mexico, if not always beautiful, has the merit of being original, and on the road to Tacubaya, which goes by Chapultepac, you pass large tracts of country almost entirely uncultivated, though so near the city, or covered by the mighty Magu plant, the American Agave, which will flourish on the most arid soil, and, like a fountain in a desert place, furnishes the poorest Indian with the beverage most grateful to his palate. 27. It seems to be to them what the reindeer is to the equimox, fitted by nature to supply all his wants. The Mague and its produce, Pulque, were known to the Indians in the most ancient times, and the primitive Aztecs may have become as intoxicated on their favorite octly, as they called it as the modern Mexicans do on their beloved Pulque. 28. It is not often that we see the superb flower with its colossal stem, for the plant, that is in blossom, is a useless beauty. The moment the experienced Indian becomes aware that his Mague is about to flower, he cuts out the heart, covers it over with the side leaves of the plant, and all the juice, which should have gone to the great stem of the flower, runs into the empty basin thus formed, into which the Indian thrives a day, and during several months in succession inserts his acohote, or gourd, a kind of siphon, and applying his mouth to the other end, draws off the liquor by suction, a curious looking process. First it is called honey water, and is sweet and scentless, but easily ferments when transferred to the skins or earthen vases where it is kept. To assist in its fermentation, however, a little old Pulque, Madre Pulque as it is called, which has fermented for many days is added to it, and in twenty four hours after it leaves the plant, you may imbibe it in all its perfection. It is said to be the most wholesome drink in the world, and remarkably agreeable when one has overcome the first shock, occasioned by its rancid odor. At all events, the Mague is a source of unfailing profit, the consummation of Pulque being enormous, so that many of the richest families in the capital owe their fortune entirely to the produce of their Magues. When the owners do not make the Pulque themselves, they frequently sell their plants to the Indians, and a Mague, which costs a real, when first planted, will, when ready to be cut, sell for twelve or eighteen dollars, a tolerable profit, considering that it grows in almost any soil, requires little manure, and unlike the vine, no very special or periodical care. They are planted in rows like hedges, and though the individual plant is handsome, the general effect is monotonous. Of the fibers is made an excellent strong thread called pita, of which pita they make a strong brownish paper, and might make cloth if they pleased. There is, however, little improvement made by the Mexicans upon the ingenuity of their Indian ancestors in respect to the Mague. Upon paper made of its fibers, the ancient Mexicans painted their hieroglyphical figures. The strong and pointed thorns which terminate the gigantic leaves they used as nails and pins, and amongst the abuses not the uses of these, the ancient Saguenari priests were in the habit of piercing their breasts and tearing their arms with these in acts of expiation. Besides, there is a very strong brandy distilled from Pulque which has the advantage of producing intoxication in an infinitely shorter period. Together with the Mague grows another immense production of nature, the organos which resemble the barrels or pipes of an organ, and being covered with prickles, the plants growing close together, and about six feet high makes the strongest natural fence imaginable, besides being covered with beautiful flowers. There is also another species of cactus, the nopal, which bears the tuna, a most refreshing fruit, but not ripe at this season. The plant looks like a series of flat green pincushions fastened together and stuck full of diminutive needles. But though the environs of Mexico are flat, though there are few trees, little cultivation, and uninhabited haciendas, and ruined churches in all directions, still with its beautiful climate and ever-smiling sky, the profusion of roses and sweet peas and the deserted gardens, the occasional clumps of fine trees, particularly the graceful arbol de peru, Chinamol, the Peruvian pepper tree. Its bending branch is loaded with bunches of coral-colored berries, the old orchards with their blossoming fruit trees, the conviction that everything necessary for the use of man can be produced with scarcely any labor, all contributes to render the landscape one which it is impossible to pass through within difference. A magnificent ashtray, the Mexican Fresno, the pride of Tacubaya, which throws out its luxuriant branches covering a large space of ground, was pointed out to us as having a tradition attached to it. It had nearly withered away, when the ilustrisimo señor fonti, the last of the Spanish archbishops, gave it his solemn benediction, and prayed that its figure might be restored. Heaven heard his prayer, new buds instantly shot forth, and the tree has since continued to thrive luxuriantly. Tacubaya is a scattered village, containing some pretty country houses and some old gardens with stone fountains. The word country house must not, however, be understood in the English acceptation of the word. The house, which is in fact merely used as an occasional retreat during the summer months, is generally a large empty building, with innumerable lofty rooms communicating with each other, and containing the scantiest possible supply of furniture. One room will have in it a deal, table, and a few chairs. You will then pass through five or six quite empty, then you will arrive at two or three with green painted bedsteads and a bench, the walls bare or ornamented with a few old pictures of saints and virgins, and bare floors ornamented with nothing. To this, at a kitchen and outhouses, a garden running to waste and overrunning with flowers, with stiff stone blocks and a fountain in the middle, an orchard and an olive-ground, such are most of the haciendas that I have yet seen. That of the countess C.A., which seems to be the handsomest in Tacubaya, is remarkable for commanding from its windows one of the most beautiful views imaginable of Mexico. The Volcanoes and Chapultepec. From her azotea there is also a splendid view of the whole valley, and as her garden is in good order, that she has an excellent billard table, a piano, but above all a most agreeable society in her own family, and that her house is the very center of hospitality. One may certainly spend many hours there without regretting the absence of the luxurious furniture which in Mexico seems entirely confined to the townhouses. The countess herself assured us that she had twice completely furnished the house, but as in two revolutions everything was thrown out of the windows and destroyed, she was resolved in future to confine herself to la estricte necesaire. We went to see a house and garden which has fallen in chance succession to a poor woman who, not being able to occupy her unexpected inheritance, is desirous of selling it. The garden and grounds are a deserted wilderness of sweets. We were joined by several monks from a neighbouring convent, and with them went to visit the Archbishop's Palace. Che men fae sunt. The Padre informed us that he was formerly a merchant, a married man, and a friend of yet turbides. He failed, his wife died, his friend was shot, and he joined a small community of priests who lived retired in the convent of La Profesa, which with its church is one of the richest in Mexico. The Arzobispado is a large, handsome, but deserted building commanding the same fine view as from the house of the countess, and with a garden and fine olive ground of which the trees were brought from Europe. The garden was filled with large double pink roses and bunches of the mil flu rose, which are disposed in arches, a favourite custom here. Also with a profusion of sweet peas and jesemine and a few orange trees. The gardener gave us some beautiful bouquets, and we lingered here till sunset, admiring the view. There is no point from which Mexico is seen to such advantage. It is even a finer prospect than that from Chapultepec, since it embraces the castle itself, one of the most striking features in the landscape. But just as the sun sunk behind the mountains, a sudden change took place in the weather. The wind rose, great masses of dark clouds came driving over the sky, and the rain fell in torrents, forcing us to make a hasty retreat to our carriages, and having omitted to take any precautions, and this road not being particularly safe at night, we were probably indebted for our safe return more to good luck than guidance, or perhaps we owed it in part to the padre, for the robbers are shy at attacking either soldiers or priests, the first from fear, and the second from all. Talking of robbers and robberies, rather a fertile theme of conversation, Señor Blanc told me the other day that, in the time of a former president, it came to pass, that a certain gentleman went to take his leave at the palace, previous to setting off for Veracruz. He was received by the president, who was alone with his aide-de-camp, Señor Blanc, and mentioned to him in confidence that he was about to take a considerable sum of money with him, but that it was so well concealed in the lining of a trunk which he described, that even if attacked by robbers it was impossible they should discover it, and that therefore he did not think it necessary to take an escort with him. The next day this confidential gentleman left Mexico in the diligence. Not far from the gates the coach was attacked, and strange to say the robbers singled out the very trunk which contained the money opened it, ripped up the lining, and having possessed themselves of the sum therein concealed, peaceably departed. It was a singular coincidence that the captain of the robbers, though somewhat disguised, bore a striking general resemblance to the president's aide-de-camp. These coincidences will happen. My chief occupation lately has consisted in returning visits, and it is certain that, according to our views of the case, there is too wide a distinction between the full dress style of toilette adopted by the ladies when they pay visits, and the undress in which they receive their visitors at home. To this there are some, nay, many exceptions, but in mass this is the case. On first arriving from the United States, where an ugly woman is a phoenix, one cannot fail to be struck at the first glance with a general absence of beauty in Mexico. It is only by degrees that handsome faces begin to dawn upon us, but, however, it must be remarked that beauty without color is apt to be less striking, and to make less impression on us at first. The brilliant complexion and fine figure of an English woman strike everyone. The beauty of expression and finely chiseled features of a Spaniard steal upon us like a soft moonlight, while a French woman, however, plain, has so graceful a manner of saying agreeable things, so charming a tournure such a picante way of managing her eyes and even her mouth, that we think her a beauty after half an hour's acquaintance, and even lose our admiration for the quiet and high bread but less graceful on glass. The beauty of the woman here consists in superb black eyes, very fine dark hair, a beautiful arm and hand, and small well-made feet. The defects are that they are frequently too short and too fat, that their teeth are often bad, and their complexion not the clear olive of the Spaniards nor the glowing brown of the Italians, but a billious looking yellow. Their notion of inserting the foot into a shoe half an inch shorter ruins the foot and destroys their grace in walking and consequently in every movement. This fashion is, fortunately, beginning to fall into disuse. It is therefore evident that when a Mexicana is endowed with white teeth and a fine complexion, when she has not grown too fat and when she does not torture her small foot to make it smaller, she must be extremely handsome. The general carelessness of their dress in the morning is, however, another great drawback to beauty. A woman without stays with uncombed hair and riboso had need to be very lovely if she retained any attraction at all. This indolence indeed is growing out of fashion especially among the younger part of the community, owing perhaps to their more frequent intercourse with foreigners, though it will probably belong before the morning at home, is not considered a privileged time and place for a dishebelet. Notwithstanding I have made many visits where I have found the whole family in a perfect state of order neatness, but I have observed that there the fathers and what is more important, the mothers had travelled in Europe and established a new order of things on their return. Upon the whole the handsomest women here are not Mexicans, that is, not born in the capital, but in the provinces. From Puebla and Jalapa and Veracruz we see many distinguished by their brilliant complexions and fine teeth, and who are taller and more graceful than those born in the city of Mexico, precisely as in Spain, where the handsomest women in Madrid are said to be those born out of it. The common Indians whom we see every day bringing in their fruit and vegetables to market, are generally speaking very plain, within humble, mild expression of countenance, very gentle and wonderfully polite in their manners to each other, but occasionally in the lower classes one sees a face and form so beautiful that we might suppose such another was the Indian who enchanted Cortez, with eyes and hair of extraordinary beauty. A complexion dark but glowing, with the Indian beauty of teeth like the driven snow, together with small feet and beautifully shaped hands and arms, however imbrowned by sun and toil. In these cases it is more than probable that, however Indian in her appearance there must have been some intermarriages in former days between her progenitors and the descendants of the conquerors. We also occasionally observe very handsome rancheritas, wives or daughters of the farmers riding in front of their farm servants on the same horse, with the white teeth and fine figures which are preserved by the constant exercise that country women must perforce take, whatever be their natural indolence, while the early fading of beauty in the higher classes, the decay of teeth, and the over-corpulency so common amongst them, are no doubt the natural consequences of want of exercise and of injudicious food. There is no country in the world where so much animal food is consumed, and there is no country in the world where so little is required. The consumers are not the Indians who cannot afford it, but the better classes who generally eat meat three times a day. This with the quantities of chili and sweet meats in a climate which everyone complains of as being irritating and inflammatory, probably produces those nervous complaints which are here so general, and for which constant hot baths are the universal and agreeable remedy. In point of amiability and warmth of manner I have met with no women who can possibly compete with those in Mexico, and it appears to me that women of all other countries will appear cold and stiff by comparison. To strangers this is an unfailing charm, and it is to be hoped that whatever advantages they may derive from their intercourse with foreigners they may never lose this graceful cordiality which forms so agreeable a contrast with English and American frigidity. C. N. received an invitation some time ago to attend the honras of the daughter of the Marquis of S.A., that is, the celebration of mass for the repose of her soul. M. was observing today that if this Catholic doctrine be firmly believed, and that the prayers of the Church are indeed availing to shorten the sufferings of those who have gone before us, to relieve those whom we love from thousands of years of torture, it is astonishing how the rich do not become poor and the poor beggars in furtherance of this object, and that if the idea be purely human it showed a wonderful knowledge of human nature on the part of the inventor as what source of profit could be more sure. Certainly no expense was spared on this occasion. San Augustine in itself a beautiful church was fitted up with extraordinary splendor. The walls and pillars were covered with draperies of rich crimson velvet. Innumerable wax candles were lighted and an invisible band of music played during the intervals of the deep-rolling organ. All the monks of San Augustine with their white hoods and sandaled feet and carrying lighted tapers were ranged near the altar. All the male relatives of the family, dressed in deep mourning, occupied the high-backed chairs, placed along one side of the church, the floor of which was covered with a carpet, on which various veiled and mourning figures were kneeling, whom I joined. The whole service, the chanting, the solemn music and the prayers, were very impressive yet, more joyous than sad, perhaps from the pervading feeling that each note as it rose to heaven carried some alleviation to the spirit of the young and beloved one for whose repose they played and brought her nearer to the gates of the holy city. She was but twenty when she died, and our first house is close to that of the Marquis de Assay, her father, so that we were shocked to learn that she had expired on the night of our great serenade. We, of course, not aware of her illness, actually to the sound of that gay music, and amidst the shouting and clapping of hands of the multitude. When the service was over the procession passed out, every one kissing the hand of the bishop as he went along, and we found some difficulty in making our way through the crowds of leperos, who, though not allowed to enter the church on this occasion, were swarming at the gates. Our carriage, as we returned home, formed one of a file of at least one hundred. We found on our table another invitation to a very splendid mass, which is to be performed in San Francisco, on account of the death of a friend of ours, a senator of a distinguished family. The style of these invitations is as follows. A device is engraved on the paper, such as a tomb and cypress, and below is printed José María A. José G. de la C. A. and Basilio G. Brothers and uncles of the senator de Agostin T., who died on the twenty-eighth of last month, request you to assist at the suffrage of the funeral honors, which, by the desire of his wife, Donia J. A., will be celebrated in the Church of San Francisco on the morning of the eighth of this month of February, 1840, at nine o'clock. Beside, this invitation was a piece of information of a different description. General A. and Anna R. begged to inform you that they have contracted matrimony and have the honor of offering themselves to your disposal. M. Street, Number Twenty-Four, Mexico, 1840. Here, as in Spain, a lady, after her marriage, retains her maiden name, and though she adds to it that of her husband, she is more commonly known by her own. Footnote. From ignorance of another Mexican costume, I made rather an awkward blunder the other day, though I must observe, in my justification that I had lately been in the agonies of searching for servants, and had just filled all the necessary departments pretty much to my satisfaction. Therefore, when the porter of the Señora de Blanc brought me the compliments of his mistress, and that she begged to inform me that she had another servant at my disposal, otra criada a mi disposición, I returned for answer that I was greatly obliged, but had just hired a recamerada. Chambermaid, at this the man, stupid as he was, opened his great eyes with a slight expression of wonder. Fortunately, as he was turning away, Ibe thought me of inquiring of the Señora's health, and his reply that she and the baby were coming on very well, brought the truth, suddenly before me, that the message was merely the etiquette used on informing the friends of the family of the birth of a child, a conviction which induced me slightly to alter the style of my answer. Experencia doset. And a footnote. And of Letter X. Letter XI of Life in Mexico. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Life in Mexico by Francis Calderón de la Barca. Letter XI Kaede Tacuba. The Leap of Alvarado. The Noche Triste. Sale of Accurates Goods. Padre Leon. Leprosy. Pictures. The Annunciation. The Alameda. Paseo de Bucarelli. The Viga. Indians in Canoes. A Murder. A Country Fat. Visit to the Colegio Vizcaino. Zajota Aragonesa. Old Soldiers. The street in which we live forms part of the Calle de Tacuba. The ancient Lacopan. One of the great causeways by which ancient Mexico communicated with the continent. The other two were Tepayarriac. Now Guadalupe. And Iztapalapan. By which, last, the Mexican Emperor and his nobles went out to receive Cortes on his entrance to Tenochtitlan. The ancient city was divided into four districts and this division is still preserved, with a change from the Indian names to those of San Pablo, San Sebastián, San Juan and Santa Maria. The streets run in the same direction as they did in former times. The same street frequently changes its name in each division, and this part of the Calle de Tacuba is occasionally called the plazuela del sopilote. San Fernando and the Puente de Alvarado, which is the more classic of the three, as celebrating the valor of a hero, while a ditch crossed by a small bridge near this, still retains the name of El Salto del Alvarado. In memory of the famous leap given by the valiant Spaniard Pedro de Alvarado on the memorable night called the Noche Triste of the 1st of July, 1520, when the Spaniards were forced to retreat from Mexico to the mountains of Tepayarriac. On that sad night, the rain falling in torrents, the moon and the stars refusing their light, the sky covered with thick clouds, Cortés commanded the silent march of his troops. Sandoval, the unconquerable captain, let his vanguard and the stern hero Pedro de Alvarado brought up the rear. A bridge of wood was carried by forty soldiers to enable the troops to pass the dishes or canals, which must otherwise have impeded their retreat. It is said that in choosing the night for this march Cortés was guided by the councils of an astrologer. Be that as it may, the first canal was happily passed by means of the portable bridge. The sentinels who guarded that point were overcome, but the noise of the struggle attracted the attention of the vigilant priests, who in the silence of the night were keeping watch in the temple. They blew the holy trumpets, cried to arms, and awakened the startled inhabitants from their slumbers. In a moment the Spaniards were surrounded by water and by land. At the second canal which they had already reached, the combat was terrible. All was confusion, wounds, groans, and death, and the canal became so choked with the dead bodies that the rearguard passed over them as over a bridge. We are told that Cortés himself swam more than once over the canal, regardless of danger, cheering on his men, giving out his orders every blow aimed in the direction of his voice, yet cool and intrepid as ever, in the midst of all the clamour and confusion and darkness. But arrived at the third canal, Alvarado finding himself alone, and surrounded by furious enemies, against whom it was in vain for his single arm to contend, fixed his lance in the bottom of the canal and leaning against it, gave one spring to the opposite shore. An Aztec author and contemporary of Cortés says that when the Indians beheld these marvelous leap and that their enemy was safe, they bit the dust, comieron tierra, and that the children of Alvarado, who was ever after known as Alvarado of the leap, proved in the course of a lawsuit before the judges of Descucco by competent witnesses the truth of this prowess of their father. In a hitherto unpublished manuscript which has come to light this year, in an annual cult on the Mosaico Mexicano, there are some curious particulars concerning the Noche Triste. It is said that the alarm was given by an old woman who kept a stall, and mention is made of the extraordinary valour of a lady called Maria de Estrada, who performed marvelous deeds with her sword, and who was afterwards married, to Don Pedro Sanchez Farfan. It is also said that when the Indians beheld the leap, they called out, truly this man is the offspring of the sun, and that this manner of tearing up the ground and eating earth by handfuls was a common Indian mode of expressing admiration. However, Mexico is so rich in traditions, that when I particularise this one it is only because we live on the site where the event took place. We went a few days ago to see some effects which are for sale, belonging to a cura who died lately, having heard that he has left some good paintings amongst them. We went in the evening and found no one but the agent, an individual in the Daniel Lambert style, an old woman or two, and the padre Leon, a Jesuit, capillan of the Capuchin nuns, and whose face, besides being handsome, looks at the very personification of all that is good, and mild and holy. What a fine study for a painter his head would be! The old priest who died and who had brought over various valuables from Spain had a sister who was a leper and who died in the hospital of San Lazaro. This dreadful scourge is by no means holy unknown here, and though it is ordained that all who are afflicted by it shall be shut up in this hospital, I have met two persons and one of these in society who have the disease. For this house which is very large, the executors ask a preposterous rent, the goods of the defunct which were for sale were arranged on long tables in a very large apartment. There were virgins and saints, surpluses, candlesticks and snuffer trays, boxes of all sorts and sizes, and ill-set partures of emeralds and diamonds, several good paintings, especially one of the enunciation. There was the death of San Jose, various saints, etc., all religious subjects as may be supposed. Two Sien bought, one I greatly coveted. There were also two pieces of embroidered velvet on which were the arms of Castile, said to have been hung on a portrait of Queen Cristina when she entered Madrid. The agent begged Sien to buy them, asking at the same time an impossible price therefore. There was, moreover, a large box full of relics from Jerusalem which the Padre told me could not be sold, but that I might choose whatever I liked, so that I returned home with various agnus days, crucifixes and rosaries. The next day a messenger from Padre Leon brought me the painting of the enunciation which I had admired so much, and which is a sketch of Bayo, a Valencian painter, from his own painting of the enunciation in the Royal Chapel of Arranjuez. Also the embroidered velvet begging my acceptance of both. We have since wished to show our sense of the Padre's politeness, but he will neither accept presents, nor will he visit any one but such as in the hour of need require his spiritual services. In the house of sickness and by the bed of death he is ever to be found, but chiefly if it is also the abode of poverty. In the house of the rich man he rarely visits, and then only when his presence has been requested, when he has been called into administer spiritual consolation to the sick or the dying. But in the dwelling of the lowly, in the meanest and most wretched hovels, he has never to be sought. The guardian and friend of the poor, his charities, are equally extensive and judicious. Yesterday being a fete day, the paseo was very full of carriages and consequently more brilliant and amusing than usual. This paseo is the Mexican Prado or Hyde Park, while the viga may be reckoned the Kensington Gardens or the Metropolis, only however a succeeding to the other, for there is no walking, which in Mexico is considered wholly unfashionable. And though a few ladies in black gowns and mantillas do occasionally venture forth on foot very early to shop or to tend mass, the streets are so ill kept, the pavement so narrow, the crowd so great, and the multitude of leperos in rags and blankets so annoying, that all these inconveniences added to the heat of the sun in the middle of the day, form a perfect excuse for their non-appearance in the streets of Mexico. In the Alameda, however, which is so pretty and shady, it is very agreeable to walk, but though I have gone there frequently in the morning, I have met but three ladies on foot, and of these two were foreigners. After all, everyone has feet, but ladies alone have carriages, and it may be a mixture of aristocracy and indolence which prevents the Mexican donias from profaning the souls of their feet by a contact with their mother earth. The Paseo called De Bucarelli, after a visceral of that name, is a long and broad avenue bounded by the trees which he planted, and where there is a large stone fountain whose sparkling waters look cool and pleasant, ornamented by a gilded statue of victory. Here every evening, but more especially on Sunday and fed days, which last are nearly innumerable, may be seen two long rows of carriages, filled with ladies, crowds of gentlemen, on horseback riding down the middle between these carriages, soldiers at intervals attending to the preservation of public order, and a multitude of common people and leperos, mingled with some well-dressed gentlemen on foot. The carriages are four, the most part extremely handsome European coaches, with fine horses and odd liveries, mingled with carriages made in the country, some in the old Mexican fashion, heavy and covered with gilding, or a modern imitation of an English carriage, strong but somewhat clumsy and ill-finished. Various hackney coaches drawn by mules are seen among the finer equipages, some very tolerable and others of extraordinary form and dimensions, which bear tokens of having belonged in former days to some noble don. Horses, as being more showy, are more fashionable in these public promenades than mules, but the latter animal requires less care and is capable of undergoing more fatigue than the horse. Most families have both mules and horses in their stable, and for those who visit much this is necessary. The carriages of which the most fashionable seems to be the carotela, open at the sides with glass windows, are filled with ladies in full toilet, without montillas, their heads uncovered and generally quaffs, with flowers or jewels, but the generality being close coaches afford but an indistinct view of the inmates as they pass along saluting each other with their fingers or fin. The whole scene on the evening of a fit is exceedingly brilliant but very monotonous. The equestrians, with their fine horses and handsome mehican dresses, apparently take no notice of the ladies as they pass, rarely salute them and never venture to enter into conversation with them. But they are well aware to whom each carriage belongs and consequently when it behooves them to make their horses curvette, and otherwise show off their horsemanship to advantage. Black eyes are upon them and they know it. When the carriages have made two or three turns, they draw up at different stations in a semi-circle a little off the road, and there the inmates sit and view the passersby. Occasional streams of smoke may be seen issuing from the carriages, but chiefly it must be confessed from the most old-fashioned equipages and from the hackney coaches. Smoking amongst ladies in the higher classes is going very much out of fashion, and is rarely practiced openly except by elderly or at least by married ladies. In a secondary class indeed young and old inhale the smoke of their cigarritos without hesitation, but when a custom begins to be considered vulgar it will hardly subsist to another generation. Unfeminine as it is I do not think it looks ungraceful to say pretty woman's smoke. This paseo commands a fine view of the mountains, but I greatly prefer the viga, which now begins to be the fashionable promenade. It is bordered by a canal shaded by trees which leads to the Chinapas, and is constantly covered with Indians in their canoes bringing in fruit and flowers and vegetables to the mehican market. Early in the morning it is a pretty sight to see them in these canoes gliding along in a perfect bower of green branches and flowers. Yesterday on returning from an evening drive there having left Sien and several gentlemen who had dined with us, taking coffee and smoking upon the balcony, I found that by good fortune I had escaped being witness of a murder which took place before our door. These gentlemen had observed after some time a group of persons, male and female, of the lower class talking and apparently amusing themselves, sometimes laughing and at other times disputing and giving each other blows. Suddenly one of the number, a man, darted out from amongst the others and tried to escape by clambering over the low wall which supports the arches of the aqueduct. Instantly and quite coolly another man followed him, drew his knife and stabbed him in the back. The man fell backwards with a groan upon which a woman of the party, probably the murderer's wife, drew out her knife and stabbed the man several times to the heart. The others meanwhile neither speaking or interfering but looking on with folded arms with their usual placid smile of indifference. At the same time some soldiers appeared in the distance riding down the street seeing which the man and woman who had committed the murder endeavored to take shelter in our house. The porter had fortunately barred the doors and the soldiers riding up took them both into custody. No sensation was excited by this, which is an everyday occurrence. Yesterday I saw a dead man lying near the Longa, the exchange, and nobody took any notice of him. You have been engaged in a very disagreeable business, said I to Colonel Blank, who had come to pay us a visit and was still en grande tenue, having just returned from the execution of one of his own soldiers who had stabbed a comrade. Yes, said he, with an air of peculiar gaiety, we have just been shooting a little tambour. We were invited lately to a Dia de Campo, a day in the country, a very common amusement here, in which, without any peculiar arrangement or etiquette, a number of people go out to some country place in the environs and spend the day in dancing, breakfasting, walking about, etc. This was given at Takubaya by Don B. G., a senator who, and was amusing enough. The music consisted of a band of guitars from which the performers, common men, and probably self-taught, contrived to draw wonderfully good music, and in the intervals of dancing played heirs from the Straniera and Puritani. The taste for music is certainly universal, the facility is wonderful, the science nearly at zero. The ladies in general wore neither diamonds nor pearls, but a sort of demi-toilet, which would have been pretty if their dresses had been longer and their shoes not so tight. Some wore bonnets which are considered full dress. The E. family and the young senora de sea were beautifully dressed. Makin' women, when they sit, have an air of great dignity and the most perfect repose of feature. They are always to be seen, to most advantage on their sofas in their carriages or in their boxes at the theatre. There were immensely long tables covered with Makin' cookery, which I begin to get accustomed to, and a great many toasts were given and a great quantity of champagne drank. We danced a great deal, Cuadrillas, waltzes and Spanish country dances, walked about in the garden and orchard in the evening, and returned to dance again to the music of the indefatigable guitars, so that it was dusk when all the carriages set off, much about the same time to bury each other company. The following day, the Countess C., having been kind enough to procure an order for permission to visit the Colegio Viscaino, which I was anxious to see, we went there with a large party. This college, founded by the gratuitous charities of Spaniards, chiefly from the province of Biscay, is a truly splendid institution. It is an immense building of stone in the form of a square, on the model, they say, of the Palace of Madrid, and possesses in the highest degree the air of solidity and magnificence, which distinguishes the Makin' edifices, and which, together with the width and regularity of the streets, the vastness of the public squares, the total absence of all paltry ornament, the balconies with their balustrades and window-gradings of solid iron and bronze, render Mexico, in spite of its insufficient police, one of the noblest-looking cities in the world. The object of this college is to provide for the education of the children of Spaniards, especially for the descendants of Biscayans, in Mexico, a certain number being admitted upon application to the directors. There are female teachers in all the necessary branches, such as reading, writing, sewing, arithmetic, etc., but besides this, there is a part of the building with a separate entrance, where the children of the poor, of whatever country, are educated gratis. These spend the day there and go home in the evening. The others are kept upon the plan of a convent, and never leave the institution while they belong to it, but the building is so spacious and airy, with its great galleries and vast court, and fine fountains, garden and spacious azotea, that the children are perfectly well off. There are portieres and sisters, pretty much as in a convent, together with an old respectable rectora, and the most perfect order and cleanliness prevails through the whole establishment. We first visited the poor scholars passing through the large halls where they sat with their teachers, divided into classes, sewing, writing, reading, embroidering, or casting up accounts which last accomplishment must, I think, besorally against the mehican genius. One of the teachers made a little girl present me with a hair chain which she had just completed. Great order and decorum prevailed. Amongst the permanent scholars in the upper part of the institution, there are some who embroider astonishingly well, surplices, altar hangings, in short, all the church vestments in gold or silk. In the room where these are kept are their confessionals for the pupils. The priests are in a separate room, and the penitents kneel before the grating which separates the two apartments. All the sleeping rooms are scrupulously neat and clean, with two green painted beds in each, and a small parlor off it, and frequently ornamented with flowers and birds. The girls are taught to cook and dine and make themselves generally useful, thus being fitted to become excellent wives to respectable men in their own rank of life. We visited the chapel which is extremely rich and handsome, encrusted with gilding, and very large. The pupils and their teachers attend mass in the gallery above, which looks down upon the chapel and has a grating before it. Here they have the organ, and various shrines, saints, nacimientos, etc. We were afterwards shown into a great hall devoted to a different purpose, containing at one end a small theatre for the pupils to act plays in. All the walls of the long galleries are covered with old paintings on holy subjects, but many of them falling to pieces from them or want of care. The building seems interminable, and after wandering all through it for several hours, and visiting everything from the garden below where they gave me a large bunch of roses and carnations, to the azotea above which looks down upon every street and church and convent in Mexico, we were not sorry to rest on the antique high-backed chairs of a handsome apartment, of which the walls were hung with the portraits of the different Spanish directors of the college in ancient court costume. Here we found that the directors had prepared a beautiful collation for us, fruit, ices, cakes, custards, jellies, wands, etc., in great profusion. Rested and refreshed we proceeded to visit the pupils at their different classes. At the writing class various specimens of that polite art were presented to us. That of the elder girls was generally bad, probably from their having entered the college late in life. That of the younger ones was much more tolerable. We saw some really beautiful specimens of embroidery. Having returned to the hall where there was a piano, some of our party began to sing and play. The senora G.O. sang an Italian air beautifully. She is evidently a scientific musician. The senorita H.S. played one of hers's most difficult combinations with great execution, and a pretty girl who is living in a convent having been placed there by her novio to keep her out of harm's way till he is prepared to give her his hand, sang a duet with another young lady which I accompanied. Both had fine voices but no notion of what they were singing. My friend the senora C. delighted us with some of the innumerable and amusing verses of the Jota Aragonesa which seems to have neither end nor beginning, all gay and all untranslatable, or at least losing their point and wit when put into an English dress. Such as, a poor man met with a sixpence, and for joy he gave up the ghost, and in the troubles of death even his sixpence was lost. The woman who loves two at once knows what is discreet and right, since if one of her candles goes out, still the other remains alight, etc. It is impossible to see any building of this size kept more perfectly clean and neat, generally the case here in all establishments which are under Petticoat government. The old Spanish institutions are certainly on a magnificent scale, though now for the most part neglected and falling to ruin, nor has any work of great consequence been attempted since the independence. After various alarms and rumours in our house concerning robbers, some true, some exaggerated, and some holy false, we have at length procured two old Spanish soldiers of the Invalidos, who have taken up their quarters downstairs and spent their time in cleaning their guns, making shoes, eating and sleeping, but as yet have had no occasion to prove their valour. Perhaps the fact of there being soldiers in the house will be sufficient to keep off the more ordinary robbers. END OF LETTER XI. LETTER XII. LETTER XI. THE DRAIN OF HUEJUE TOCA. THE GREAT MARKET OF LA TELOCLO. 16TH MART. We are now in Lent in the midst of prayer, church going and fasting. The carnival was not very gay, with the exception of a few public masked balls, and very brilliant paseos. The viga is one of the most beautiful promenades imaginable, though it might easily be rendered still more so, but even as it is, with its fine shady trees and canal, along which the lazy canoes are constantly gliding, it would be difficult on a fine evening just before sunset, especially on the evening of a fat day, to find anywhere a prettier or more characteristic scene. Which rank of society shows the most taste in their mode of enjoyment must be left to the scientific to determine. The Indians with their flour garlands and guitars lying in their canoes and dancing and singing after their own fashion as they glide along the water, inhaling the balmy breezes or the ladies, who shut up in their closed carriages promenade along in full dress and silence for a given space of time, acknowledging by a gentle movement of their fan the salutations of their fair friends from the recesses of their coaches, and seeming to dread lest the air of heaven should visit them too roughly. Though the soft breeze laden with balm steals over the sleepy water, and the last rays of the sun are gilding the branches of the trees with a broken and flickering light. Then at certain intervals of time each carriage slowly draws up beside its neighbor, as in the other paseo, the elegant Karatella beside the plebeian hackney coach, the splendid equipage of the millionaire beside the lumbering and antique vehicle whose fashion hath now departed. There sit the inmates in silence as if the business of life were over, and it was now their part to watch the busy world from the loopholes of their retreat, and see it rolling along whilst they take the rest. The gentlemen also draw up their prancing steeds, though not within hail of the carriages, but they in the fresh air and under the green trees have as much advantage over the senoras as the wandering friar has over the cloistered nun. Yet enter the vigour about five o'clock when freshly watered and the soldiers have taken their stand. To prevent disturbance and two long lines of carriages are to be seen going and returning as far as the eye can reach, and hundreds of gay plebeians are assembled on the sidewalks with flowers and fruit and dulces for sale, and innumerable equestrians in picturesque dresses and with spirited horses fill up the interval between the carriages, and the canoes are covering the canal. The Indians singing and dancing lazily as the boats deal along, and the whole under a blue and cloudless sky, and in that pure clear atmosphere, and could you only shut your eyes to the one disagreeable feature in the picture, the number of leperos busy in the exercise of their vocation, you would believe that Mexico must be the most flourishing, most enjoyable, and most peaceful place in the world, and moreover the wealthiest. Not a republic, certainly, for there is no well-dressed people, hardly a connecting link between the blankets and the satins, the poppies and the diamonds. As for the carriages, many would not disgrace Hyde Park, though there are some that would send a shiver all along Bond Street, but the very contrast is amusing, and upon the whole, both as to horses and equipages, there is much more to admire than to criticize. There, for example, is the handsome carriage of the rich blank, who has one of the finest houses in Mexico. His wife wears a velvet turban twisted with large pearls, and has at this moment a cigar in her mouth. She is not pretty, but her jewels are superb. How he made his fortune, partly by gambling, and partly by even less honorable means, let some abler chronically relate. Or look at this elegant carotela with its glass sides all open, giving to view a constellation of fair ones, and drawn by a handsome grey frisones. These ladies are remarkable as having a more European heir than most others, brighter colors, longer and simpler dresses, and Paris bonnets. Perhaps they have been in Europe. It is remarkable that the horses of the gentlemen all appear peculiarly unmanageable every time they pass these carriage. Another handsome plain carriage containing the family of one of the ministers, mother and daughters all beautiful, with Spanish eyes and dark glowing complexions, followed close by a hackney coach containing women with ribosos, and little children with their faces and fingers all bedopped with candy. Some of the coachmen and footmen where may he can dresses and others have liveries. But here come three carriages in suite, all with the same crimson and gold livery, all luxurious and all drawn by handsome white horses. It is the president, certainly not, it is too ostentatious. Even royalty goes in simpler guise, when it can descend to mingle in the amusements of its subjects. In the first carriage appear the great man himself and his consort, rather withdrawing from the plebian gaze. There is here much crimson and gold, much glass and well-stuffed cushions, much comfort and magnificence combined. Two handsome northern steeds, white and prancing, draw this commodious equipage. The next is a splendid coach containing the children and servants, while in the third equally magnificent are the babies and nurses. By the side of the first carriage rides an elderly gentleman who, where his seat firmer, might be mistaken for a picador. He wears a rich Mexican dress all covered with gold embroidery. His hat, with gold rolls, is stuck jointly on one side, contrasting oddly enough with his unease expression of countenance, probably caused by the inward trepidation of which he cannot wholly repress the outward sign while managing his high-bred steed. And with his feet pressing his silver stirrups, cautiously touching him with a whip which has a large diamond in the handle. For the chief wander of his equipment, and that which has procured him such a retinue of little ragged and shouting boys, is his saddle, this extraordinary piece of furniture which cost the owner five thousand dollars is entirely covered with velvet, richly embossed in massive gold, he sometimes appears with another inlaid with pure silver. His whole appearance is the most singular imaginable and the perturbation of spirit in which he must return when it begins to grow dusk, and he reflects at once upon his own value, and his countrymen's taste for appropriation must balance enjoyment which his vanity receives from the admiration of the little boys in the paseo. Just as these millionaires pass by, an old Hackney coach in their wake attracts our attention, exactly the sort of quaint old vehicle in which it sometimes pleases Lady Morgan to introduce her heroines. In it are six figures closely masked, their faces covered with shawls. After many conjectures it is impossible to guess whether they are men or women. It was impossible, but as the carriage has returned the wind suddenly blows aside the shawls of two of the party, and discloses the gowns and hoods of the friars. Oh tempora, oh mores! There were three masked balls at the theatre of which we only attended one. We went about ten o'clock to a box on the pit-tier, and although a pronunciamento, a fashionable term here for a revolution, was prognosticated, we found everything very quiet and orderly, and the ball very gay and crowded. As we came in, and were giving our tickets, a number of masks came springing by shrieking out our names in their unearthly voices. Captain G., brother of Lord Blank, came to our box, also a séan of La Huenée Francaise, M. D. C., who condescendingly kept his hat on during the whole evening. In a box directly above us were the French legation who arrived lately. Amongst the women the dresses were for the most part dominoes adopted for greater concealment, as it was not considered very creditable to be there. There were also several in men's attire, chiefly French modistes, generally a most disreputable set here, and numerous men dressed as women. There were masked poblanas without stockings and with very short petticoats, knights in armour, innumerable dresses probably borrowed from the theatre, and even more than the usual proportion of odd figures. The music was very good, and the dancers waltzed and galloped and flew around the room like furies. There was at least no want of animation. Hundreds of masks spoke to us, but I discovered no one. One in a domino was particularly anxious to direct my attention to the poblana dress, and asked me if it would have done for me to attend a fancy ball in such a costume. Very angry at his absurdity, I began to explain how I should have dressed, when I recollected the folly of explaining anything to a creature whom I did not know. Sien stepped out of the box to walk amongst the crowd at which various masks showed great signs of joy surrounding and shaking hands with him. The boxes were filled with ladies, and the scene was very amusing. Seigneur M., whose box we occupied, ordered in cakes and wine, and about one o'clock we left the ballroom and returned home, one of our soldiers acting as lackey. I paid a visit the other day, which merits to be recorded. It was to the rich Seigneur Blanc, whose first visit I had not yet returned. She was at home, and I was shown into a very large drawing-room, where, to my surprise, I found the lamps, mirrors, etc., covered with black crepe, as in cases of mourning here. I concluded that some one of the family was dead, and that I had made a very ill-timed first visit. However, I sat down when my eyes were instantly attracted by something awful, placed directly in front of the sofa where I sat. There were six chairs arranged together, and on these legs stretched out a figure, apparently a dead body, about six feet long enveloped in black cloth, the feet alone visible from their pushing up the cloth. Oh horror! Here I sat, my eyes fixed upon this mysterious apparition, and lost in conjecture as to whose body it might be. The master of the house? He was very tall, and being in bad health might have died suddenly. My being perceived argued nothing against this since the first nine days after a death, the house is invariably crowded with friends and acquaintances, and the widow or orphan or childless mother must receive the condolences of all and sundry in the midst of her first bitter sorrow. There seems to be no idea of grief wishing for solitude. Pending these reflections I sat on easily, feeling or fancying a heavy air in the apartment and wishing most sincerely that some living person would enter. I thought even of slipping away but feared to give offence, and in fact began to grow so nervous that when the senora, D. Blank, entered at length I started up as if I had heard a pistol. She wore a colored muslin gown and a blue shawl, no signs of mourning. After the complimentary preface I asked, particularly after her husband keeping a side glance on the mysterious figure. He was pretty well. Her family just recovered from the smallpox after being severely ill. Not dangerously said I hesitatingly thinking she might have a tall son, and that she alluded to the recovery of the others. No, but her sister's children had been alarmingly ill. Not lost any, I hope? None. Well, so taking up was I that conversation flagged, and I answered and asked questions at random until at last I happened to ask the lady if she were going to the country soon. Not to remain, but to-morrow we are going to convey a Santo Cristo, a figure of the crucifixion there, which has just been made for the chapel, glancing towards the figure, for which reason this room is, as you see, hung with black. I never felt so relived in my life, and thought of the mysteries of Udolfo. The house is being so large and the servants not drilled to announce visitors, besides that the entres sols are frequently led to other families, it is a matter of no small difficulty for a stranger to pioneer him or herself into the presence of the people of the house. The mistakes that I have made for not being aware of this fact concerning the entres sols, which are often large and handsome, and the poor are having begged me to walk up, I generally stopped the first landing-place, and then walked up to the first door that I saw. I did walk in one morning upon to a gentleman who seemed marvelously startled by my visit. They looked like two medical students, and were engaged before a table. Heaven knows how. Dissecting, I imagine. I inquired for the senora blank, which astonished them still more, as well it might. However, they were very civil, and rushed downstairs to call up the carriage. After that adventure I never entered a house unaccompanied by footmen until I had learned my way through it. We had a pleasant dinner party a few days ago at the Prussian ministers, and met the sea's family there. The Condesa des Sea has been a long while in Europe and in the best society, and is now entirely devoted to the education of her daughters, giving them every advantage that Mexico can afford in the way of masters, besides having at home a Spanish governess to assist her, an excellent woman whom they regard as a second mother. Though there is very little going on in Mexico at present, I amuse myself very well. There is so much to see, and the people are so kind and friendly. Having got riding horses we have been making excursions all around the country, especially early in the morning, before the sun is high when the air is delightfully cool and refreshing. Sometimes we go to the Figa at six in the morning to see the Indians bringing in their flowers and vegetables by the canal. The profusion of sweet peas, double puppies, blue bottles, stock ghillie flower and roses I never saw equaled. Each Indian woman in her canoe looks as if seated in a floating flower garden. The same love of flowers distinguishes them now as in the time of Cortez, the same which humbled remarked centuries afterwards. In the evening these Indian women in their canoes are constantly crowned with garlands of roses or puppies. Those who sit in the market selling their fruit or their vegetables appear as if they sat in bowers formed of fresh green branches and colored flowers. In the poorest village church the floor is strewn with flowers, and before the service begins fresh nosegays are brought in and arranged upon the altar. The baby at its christening, the bride at the altar, the dead body in its beer, are all adorned with flowers. We are told that in the days of Cortez a bouquet of rare flowers was the most valuable gift presented to the ambassadors who visited the court of Montezuma, and it presents a strange anomaly, this love of flowers having existed along with their sanguinary worship and barbarious sacrifices. We went the other evening on the canal in a large canoe within Aning, as far as the little village of Santanita, and saw for the first time the far-famed Chinampas, or floating gardens which have now become fixtures, and are covered with vegetables intermingled with flowers, with a few poor huts beside them occupied by the Indians, who bring these to the city for sale. There were cauliflower, chili, tomatoes, cabbages and other vegetables, but I was certainly disappointed in their beauty. They are however curious on account of their origin. So far back, as 1245, it is said, the wandering Aztecs or Mexicans arrived first at Chapultepec, when, being persecuted by the princes of Taltucán, they took refuge in a group of islands to the south of the lake of Tezcucco. Falling under the yoke of the Tezcuccan kings, they abandoned their island home and fled to Tezapan, where, as a reward for assisting the chiefs of that country in a war against other petty princes, they received their freedom, and established themselves in a city to which they gave the name of Mexicalsingo, from Mejitli, their god of war, now a collection of strong barns and poor huts. But they did not settle there, for to obey an oracle they transported themselves from this city to the islands east of Chapultepec, to the western side of the lake of Tezcucco. An ancient tradition had long been current amongst them, that wherever they should behold an eagle seated upon a nopal, whose roots pierced a rock, there they should found a great city. In 1325 they beheld this sign, and on the spot, in an island in the lake, founded the first house of God, the Teocali, or great temple of Mexico. During all their wanderings, wherever they stopped, the Aztecs cultivated the earth and lived upon what nature gave them. Surrounded by enemies, and in the midst of a lake where there are few fish, necessity and industry compelled them to form floating fields and gardens on the bosom of the waters. They weaved together the roots of aquatic plants, intertwined with twigs and light branches, until they had formed a foundation sufficiently strong to support a soil formed of the earth which they drew from the bottom of the lake, and on it they sowed their maize, their chili, and all other plants necessary for their support. These floating gardens were about a foot above the water, and in the form of a long square. Afterwards, in their natural taste for flowers, they not only cultivated the useful but the ornamental, and these small gardens, multiplying, were covered with flowers and aromatic herbs, which were used in the worship of the gods, or were sent to ornament the palace of the emperor. The Chinampas along the canal of the Vega are no longer floating gardens, but fixed to the mainland in the marshy grounds lying between the two great lakes of Chalco and Tescucco. A small trench full of water separates each garden, and though now in this marshy land they give but a faint idea of what they may have been when they raised their flower-crowned heads above the clear waters of the lake, and when the Indians in their barks wishing to remove their habitations could tow along their little islands of roses, it is still a pretty and a pleasant scene. We bought numerous garlands of roses and poppies from the Indian children, both here at Santa Anita, a little village where we landed, and as we returned towards evening we were amused by the singing and dancing of the Indians. One canoe came close up to ours and kept beside it for some time. A man was lying lazily at the bottom of the boat, tingling his guitar, and one or two women were dancing monotonously and singing at the same time to his music. Sondra jars of pulque and earthen dishes with tortillas and chili and pieces of tasajo, long festoons of dried and salted beef, proved that the party were not without their solid comfort in spite of the romantic guitar and the rose and poppy garlands with which the dancing nymphs were crowned. Amongst others they performed the palomo, the dove, one of their most favorite dances. The music is pretty, and I send it to you with the words. The music from here the words are given me by my friend, the Senora A.D., who sings all these little Indian airs in perfection. If we may form some judgment of a people's civilization by their ballads, none of the Mexican songs give us a very high idea of theirs. The words are generally a tissue of absurdities, nor are there any patriotic songs which their newborn freedom might have called forth from some musical aid people. At least I have, as yet, only discovered one air of which the words bear reference to the glorious Grito de Delores and which asserts in rhyme that on account of that memorable event the Indian was able to get as drunk as a Christian. The translation of the palomo is as follows. What are you doing, little dove, there in the wine-shop, waiting for my love until Tuesday in my life. A dove in flying hurt her little wing. If you have your dove I have my little dove too. A dove in flying all her feathers fell off. Women pay badly, not all, but some of them. Little dove of the barracks you will tell the drummers when they beat the retreat to strike up the march of my loves. Little dove, what are you doing there, leaning against that wall? Waiting for my dove till he brings me something to eat. At the end of each verse the chorus of palomita palomo palomo. Yes, monotonous as it is, the air is so pretty, the women sang so softly and sleepily, the music sounded so soothingly as we glided along the water that I felt in a pleasant half-dreamy state of perfect contentment, and was sorry when arriving at the landing-place we had to return to a carriage and civilized life with nothing but the garlands of flowers to remind us of the Chinampas. Unfortunately these people generally end by two frequent applications to the Haro of Pulque or what is worse, to the pure spirit known by the name of Chinturite, the consequence of which is that from music and dancing and rose-becrowning they proceed to quarreling and jealousy and drunkenness, which frequently terminates in their fighting, stabbing each other or throwing each other into the canal. The end crowns the work. Noble as this present city of Mexico is, one cannot help thinking how much more picturesque the ancient Tenochtitlan was and how much more fertile its valley must have been on account of the Great Lakes. Yet even in the time of Cortes these lakes had no great depth of water and still further back, in the time of the Indian emperors navigation had been so frequently interrupted in seasons of drought that an aqueduct had been constructed in order to supply the canals with water. After this a spaniards like all new settlers hewed down the fine trees in this beautiful valley both on plain and mountain, leaving the bare soil exposed to the vertical rays of the sun. Then their well-founded dread of inundation caused them to construct the famous desague of Huejetoca, the drain of subterranean conduit or channel in the mountain for drawing off the waters of the lakes, thus leaving marshy lands or sterile plains covered with carbonate of soda, where formerly were silver lakes covered with canoes. This last was a necessary evil, since the Indian emperors themselves were sensible of its necessity and had formed great works for draining the lakes, some remains of which work still exist in the vicinity of the Pinon. The Great Desague was began in 1607 when the marquee of Salinas was Viceroy of Mexico, and the operations were commenced with great pomp, the Viceroy assisting in person, mass being set on a portable altar and fifteen hundred workmen assembled, while the marquee himself began the excavation by giving the first stroke with a spade. From 1607 to 1838 millions of dollars were expended, and yet this great work was not brought to a conclusion. However the limits of the two lakes of Zompango and San Cristobald, the north of the valley, were thus greatly reduced, and the lake Tescucco, the most beautiful of all the five, no longer received their contributions. Thus the danger of inundations has diminished, but water and vegetation have diminished also, and the suburbs of the city, which were formerly covered with beautiful gardens, now present to the eye an arid expanse of efflorescent salt. The plains near San Lazaro, especially in their arid whiteness, seemed characteristic of the unfortunate victims of leprosy enclosed in the walls at that hospital. We wrote out the other day by the barrio or ward of Santiago, which occupies part of the ancient Taltelolco, which once constituted a separate state, had kings of its own, and was conquered by a Mexican monarch who made a communication by bridges between it and Mexico. The great market mentioned by Cortes was held here, and its boundaries are still pointed out, whilst the convent chapel stands on the height where Cortes erected a battering engine when he was besieging the Indian Venice. End of letter XII.