 13. Convent of San Joaquin, Mexico in the Morning, Tacuba, Carmelite Pryor, Convent Garden, Jacienda Los Morales, El Olivar, A. Joaquimaya, Hummingbirds, Correspondents, Expected Consecration, Visit to the Minerea, Botanic Garden, Arbol de las Manilas, The Museum, Equestrian Statue, Academy of Painting and Sculpture, Disappointment. Early this morning we rode to the Convent of San Joaquin belonging to Friars of the Carmelite Order, passing through Tacuba, the ancient Tlalcopan, once the capital of his small kingdom, and whose monarch, Dedele Panquet Saltzin, short and convenient name, Cortes caused to be hung on a tree for a supposed or real conspiracy. The number of carts the innumerable Indians loaded like beasts of burden, their women with baskets of vegetables in their hands and children on their backs, the long strings of aryeros with their loaded mules, the droves of cattle, the flocks of sheep, the herds of pigs, rendered a work of some difficulty to make one's way on horseback out of the gates of Mexico at an early hour of the morning. But it must be confessed that the whole scene is lively and cheerful enough to make one forget that there is such a thing as care in the world. There is an indifferent placid smile on every face and the bright blue sky smiling over them all, dogs bark and asses bray, and the Indian with neary mules load on his back, drags his head off to salute a bevy of his bronze-coloured countrymen, nearly equally laden with himself, and they all show their teeth and talk their liquid Indian and pass on. These planes of Tacuba once the theater of fierce and bloody conflicts and wear during the siege of Mexico Alvarado of the Leap, fixed his camp, now presents a very tranquil scene. Tacuba itself is now a small village of mud huts with some fine old trees, a few very old ruined houses, a ruined church and some traces of a building which assured us had been the palace of their last monarch, whilst others declare it to have been the site of the Spanish encampment. San Joaquin, also a poor village, contains the fine convent and immense walled garden and orchard belonging to the rich monks of the Carmelite order. As Sien knows the prior, he sent in our names, and I was admitted as far as the sacristy of the convent church. The prior received us with the utmost kindness. He is a good-looking man, extremely amiable and well-informed and still young. The gentlemen were admitted into the interior of the convent, which they describe as being a very large, handsome building, clean and airy with a fine old library, chiefly composed of theological works. To the garden which is immensely large and though not much cultivated, full of flowers and to the great orchard celebrated for the profusion and excellence of its fruit. There is a mirador in the garden which can be seen from the road, and from which there is a very extensive view. I was very anxious for admission only to the garden and pleaded the manly appearance of my riding hat, which would prevent all scandal were I seen from a distance, but the complacence of the good prior would not go quite so far as that, so I sat in the sacristy and conversed with a good-natured old monk with a double chin, whilst the others wandered through the grounds. They afterwards gave us a very nice breakfast, simple but good, fish from the lake, different preparations of eggs, risolet, coffee and fruit. The monks did not sit down with us, nor would they partake of anything themselves. We went in the evening to see a pretty hacienda called Los Morales, the mulberry tree belonging to a Spaniard, which has a nice garden with a bath in it, and where they bestowed a quantity of beautiful flowers on us. The other day we sat off early together with the Belgian and French ministers and their families in carriages to visit a beautiful deserted hacienda called El Olivar, belonging to the Marquis of Santiago. The house is perfectly bare with nothing but the walls, but the grounds are a wilderness of tangled flowers and blossoming trees, rosebushes, sweet peas, and all manner of fragrant flowers. We passed an agreeable day wandering about breakfasting on the provisions brought with us, arranging large bouquets of flowers and firing at a mark which must have startled the birds in their solitary and uncultivated retreat. We had a pleasant family dinner at the ease, and passed the evening at the Baron de Blanques. The gentleman returned late, it being the day of a diplomatic dinner at the English ministers. The Countess Del Vee has just sent me a beautiful bird with the most gorgeous plumage of the brightest scarlet in blue. It is called a huacamaya and is of the parrot species, but three times as large, being about two feet from the beak to the tip of the tail. It is a superb creature, but very wicked, gnawing not only its own pole but all the doors and committing great havoc amongst the plants, besides trying to bite everyone who approaches it. It pronounces a few words very hoarsely and indistinctly and has a most harsh, disagreeable cry. In fact, it presumes upon its beauty to be as unamiable as possible. I prefer some beautiful little hummingbirds, chumapirtos as they are called here, which have been sent to me and which I am trying to preserve alive, but I fear the cold will kill them, for though we see them occasionally here, hanging by their beaks upon the branches of the flowers like large butterflies and shaking their brilliant little wings so rapidly that they seem to emit sparkles of colored light. Still, this is not their home. Properly speaking, they belong to the tierra caliente. These little birds are of a golden, green and purple and are so tame that whilst I am writing I have two on my shoulder and one perched on the edge of a glass, having at its long tongue for sugar and water. Our livestock is considerable. We have guinea fowls, who always remind me of old maiden ladies in half-morning, and whose screaming notes match those of the huacamaya, various little green parrots, a scarlet cardinal, one hundred and sixty pigeons in the pigeon-house, and three fierce dogs in conspicuous situations. I receive a very polite letter today from the Senora de Santana, and as it was enclosed in a few lines from Santana himself, I send you his autograph for I doubt much whether we have seen the last of that illustrious personage or whether his philosophic retirement will endure forever. I have been endeavoring lately to procure permission from Senor Posada, who is shortly to be consecrated archbishop, to visit the Convince of Nuns in Mexico. Senor, CEO, Secretary of State, our particular friend has been kind enough to interest himself in the matter, though within different hopes of success. A few days ago he sent me his correspondence with Senor Posada, who observes that the vice-queens alone had the privilege of the entree, and seems to hesitate a good deal as to the advisableness of granting a permission which might be considered a precedent for others. However, I think he is too amiable to resist our united entreaties. I hold out as an argument that C. N., being the duplicado of the Queen herself, my visit is equal to that of the vice-queen, which argument has at least amused him. His consecration is fixed for the 31st of May. Don Pedro Fonte, the last archbishop named in the time of the Spanish Dominion, having renounced the Mitre, three illustrious churchmen were proposed to fill the vacant place. This Don Manuel Posada, Don Antonio Camposen, Dr. Don José María de Santiago, the first was chosen by the Mexican government and was afterwards proclaimed in the Roman Consistory last December, with a probation of Gregory XV. They are now only awaiting for the Pontifical Bulls, which are daily expected from Rome, and it is said that the ceremony which will take place in the cathedral will be very magnificent. April 3, accompanied by the Minister, we spent yesterday in visiting the Mineria, the Botanic Garden, the Museum, etc., all which leave a certain disagreeable impression on the mind, since without having the dignity of ruins they are fine buildings neglected. The Mineria, or School of Mines, the work of the famous architect and sculptor Tulsa, is a magnificent building, a palace whose fine proportions would render it remarkable amongst the finest edifices of any European country. All is on a great scale, its noble rows of pillars, great staircases, large apartments and lofty roofs, but it reminds one of a golden aviary containing a few common sparrows. Several rich Spaniards contributed more than six hundred thousand dollars to its construction. We were shown through the whole of this admirable building by the director, who occupies a very handsome house attached to it, but however learned the professors may be, and amongst them is a scientific señor del río, now very old, but a man of great learning and research, the collection of minerals, the instruments, and models are all miserable and ill-kept. The Botanic Garden within the palace is a small ill-kept enclosure where there still remain some rare plants of the immense collection made in the time of the Spanish government, when great progress was made in all the natural sciences, four hundred thousand dollars having been expended in botanical expeditions alone. Courses of botanical lectures were then given annually by the most learned professors, and the taste for natural history was universal. El arbol de las manitas, the tree of the small hands, was the most curious which we saw in the garden. The flowers of a bright scarlet in the form of a hand with five fingers and a thumb, and it is said that there are only three of these trees in the Republic. The gardener is an old Italian who came over with one of the viceroys, and though now one hundred and ten years old, and nearly bent double, possesses all his faculties. The gardener is pretty from the age of the trees and luxurients of the flowers, but melancholy is a proof of the decay of the science in Mexico. The palace itself, now occupied by the president, formerly belonged to Cortes, and was ceded by his descendants to the government. In exchange they received the ground formerly occupied by the palace of the Aztec Kings, and built on it a very splendid edifice, where the state archives are kept, and where the Montepio, the office where money is lent on plate jewels, etc., now is the director of which is Don Francisco Tagle, whose apartments within the building are very elegant and spacious. The museum within the university and opposite the palace in the Plaza, called Del Valador, contains many rare and valuable works, many curious Indian antiquities, but they are ill-arranged. On the walls are the portraits of the Vice Kings, beginning with Hernán Cortes. We spent a long while here examining these antiquities, but we have seen nothing in Mexico to equal the beauty of the colossal equestrian statue in bronze of Charles IV, placed on a pedestal of Macon marble, which stands in the court of the university, but formerly adorned the middle of the square. It is a magnificent picture of sculpture, the masterpiece of Tolosa, remarkable for the noble simplicity and purity of its style, and was made at the expense of an ex visoroi, the Marquis of Branziforte. We also saw the goddess of war lying in a corner of the court, beside the stone of sacrifices which we had already been shown. Today we have been visiting the Academy of Painting and Sculpture, called the Academy of Fine Arts, of which I unfortunately recollected, having read Humboldt's brilliant account, in my forcibly prolonged studies on Borda Jason, and that he mentions its having had the most favorable influence in forming the national taste. He tells us that every night in this spacious halls, well illumined by argand lamps, hundreds of young men were assembled, some sketching from the plaster casts, or from life, and others copying designs of furniture, candelabras, and other bronze ornaments, and that here, all classes, colors, and races were mingled together, the Indian besides the white boy, and the son of the poorest mechanic, besides that of the richest lord. Teaching was gratis and not limited to landscape and figures, one of the principal objects being to propagate amongst the artists a general taste for elegance and beauty of form, and to enliven the national industry. Plaster casts, to the amount of $40,000 were sent out by the King of Spain, and as they possess in the Academy various colossal statues of basalt and porphyry, with Aztec hieroglyphics it would have been curious, as the same learned traveler remarks, to have collected these monuments in the courtyard of the Academy and compare the remains of Mehekan sculpture, monuments of a semi-barbarous people, with the graceful creations of Greece and Rome. Let no one visit the Academy with these recollections or anticipations in his mind, that the simple and noble taste which distinguishes the Mehekan buildings, their perfection in the cutting and working of their stones, the chaste ornaments of the capitals, and rally voice, are owing to the progress they made in this very Academy is no doubt the case. The remains of these beautiful but mutilated plaster casts, the splendid engravings which still exist, would alone make it probable, but the present disorder, the abandoned state of the building, the non-existence of these excellent classes of sculpture and painting, and above all the low state of the fine arts in Meheko at the present day, are amongst the sad proofs, if any were wanting, of the melancholy effects produced by years of civil war and unsettled government. The holy week is now approaching, and already Indians are to be seen bringing in the palm branches and the flowers for the altars, and they are beginning to erect booths and temporary shops, and to make every preparation for the concourse of people who will arrive next Sunday from all the different villages and ranchos far and near. End of Letter XIII. Letter XIV of Life in Meheko. 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 Meheko by Francis Calderón de la Barca. Letter XIV. Palm Sunday. Holy Thursday. Variety of costumes. San Francisco. Santo Domingo. Santa Teresa. Nuns. Stone bust. The academy. Religious procession. Pilgrimage to the churches. Santa Clara. Nuns voice. Orange trees and rose bushes. The cathedral illuminated. Our savior in chains. Good Friday. The great square towards evening. Dresses of men, women, and children. Approach of the host. Judas. Great procession. Misere. The square by moonlight. A lonely walk. Sabado de Gloria. Ball in contemplation. Weekly soirees. embroidered muslins. A tertuli at home. 21st April. On the morning of Palm Sunday I went to the cathedral accompanied by Mademoiselle de Blanc, daughter of the Blanc minister. We found it no easy matter to make our way through the crowd. But at last, by dint of patience and perseverance and changing our place very often, we contrived to arrive very near the great altar, and there we had just taken up our position. When it is interested man. Gave us a friendly hint that as the whole procession with their branches must inevitably squeeze past the spot where we were, we should probably be crushed or suffocated. Consequently we followed him to a more convenient station, also close to the altar and defended by the railing, where we found ourselves tolerably well off. Two ladies to whom he made the same proposition and who rejected it, we afterwards observed in a sad condition, their mantillas nearly torn off and the palm branches sweeping across their eyes. In a short time the whole cathedral presented the appearance of a forest of palm trees. A la verna mud, moved by a gentle wind and under each tree a half-naked Indian, his rags clinging together with wonderful pertinacity, long matt dirty black hair both in men and women, bronze faces with mild unspeaking eyes, or all with one expression of eagerness to see the approach of the priests. Many of them had probably travelled a long way and the palms were from Tierra Caliente, dried and plated into all manner of ingenious ways. Each palm was about seven feet high, so as far to overshadow the head of the Indian who carried it, and whenever they are blessed, they are carried home to adorn the walls of their huts. The priests arrived at length, in great pomp and also carrying palm branches. For four mortal hours we remained kneeling or sitting on the floor, and thankful we were when it was all over, and we could make our way once more into the fresh air. From this day during the whole week all business is suspended, and but one train of thought occupies all classes, from the highest to the lowest. The peasants flock from every quarter, shops are shut, churches are opened, and the divine tragedy enacted in Syria, eighteen hundred years ago, is now celebrated in land, then undiscovered, and by the descendants of nations sunk in paganism for centuries after that period. But amongst the lower classes the worship is emphatically the worship of her who herself predicted, from henceforth all nations shall call me blessed. Before her shrines and at all hours thousands are kneeling. With faces expressive of the most intense love and devotion, and with words of the most passionate adoration, they address the mild image of the mother of God. To the sun their feelings seem composed of respectful pity, of humble but more distant adoration, while to the version they appear to give all their confidence, and to look up to her as to a kind and bountiful queen, who dressed in her magnificent robes and jeweled diadem, yet mourning in all the agony of her divine sorrows has condescended to admit the poorest beggar to participate in her woe, whilst in her turn she shares in the afflictions of the lowly, feels for their privations, and grants them her all-powerful intercession. On holy Thursday nothing can be more picturesque than the whole appearance of Mexico. No carriages are permitted and the ladies being on foot take the opportunity of displaying all the riches of their toilette. On this day valvets and satans are your only wear. Diamonds and pearls walk the streets. The mantillas are white or black blonde. The shoes white are coloured satin. The petticoats are still rather short, but it would be hard to hide such small feet, and such still smaller shoes. You farts are freer for a trebel, but a quarry born on trebel if no one sees it. As for me, I ventured upon a lilac silk of palmiers and a black mantilla. The whole city was filled with picturesque figures. After the higher senoras were to be remarked, the common women, chiefly in clear white, very stiffly starched muslins, some very richly embroidered, and the petticoat trimmed with lace, white satin shoes, and the dresses extremely short, which in them looks very well. A reboso is thrown over all. Amongst these were many hands and faces, but in a still lower and more Indian class, with their gay-coloured petticoats the faces were sometimes beautiful, and the figures more upright and graceful. Also they invariably walk well whilst many of the higher classes, from tight shoes and want of custom, seem to feel pain in putting their feet to the ground. But none could vie with the handsome poblana peasants in their holiday dresses, some so rich and magnificent that, remembering the warning of our ministerial friends, I am inclined to believe them more showy than respectable. The pure Indians with whom the church is in the whole city is crowded, are as ugly as can be imagined, a gentle, dirty, and much enduring race. Still, with their babies at their backs, going along at their usual gentle trot, they add much to the general effect of the coup d'etre. We walked to San Francisco about ten o'clock in the body of the church being crowded, went upstairs to a private gallery with a gilded grading, belonging to the Countess de Santiago, and here we had the advantage of seats, besides a fine view of the whole. This church is very splendid, and the walls were hung with canvas paintings, representing different passages of our savior's life, his entry into Jerusalem, the Woman of Samaria, the Well, etc., which, with the palm trees, had a cool and oriental effect. Before the altar which was dazzling with jewels was a representation of the Lord's Supper, not in painting, but in sculptured figures as large as life, habited in the Jewish dresses. The bishops and priests were in a blaze of gold and jewels. They were assisted during the ceremony by the young Count of Santiago. The music was extremely good and the whole effect impressive. We visited several churches in the course of the day and continued walking until four o'clock, when we went to dine with our friends, the A.S. After dinner, one of their coachmen enhanced a Mexican in a superb dress. All embroidered in gold was called upstairs to dance, the Harabe, to us with a country girl. The dance is monotonous, but they acquitted themselves to perfection. We then continued our pilgrimage through the city, though as the sun had not yet set, we reserved our chief admiration until the churches should be illuminated. One, however, we entered at sunset, which is worthy of remark, Santo Domingo. It looked like a little paradise or a story in the Arabian Nights. All the steps up the altar were covered with pots of beautiful flowers, orange trees loaded with fruit and blossom, and rose bushes in full bloom, glasses of colored water, and all kinds of fruit, cages full of birds singing delightfully hung from the wall and really fine paintings filled up the intervals. A gay carpet covered the floor and in front of the altar, instead of the usual representation of the Savior crucified, a little infant Jesus, beautifully done in wax, was lying amidst the flowers with little angels surrounding him. Add to this the music of Romeo and Juliet, and you may imagine that it was more like a scene in an opera than anything in a church. But certainly as the rays of the setting sun streamed in with a rosy light through the stained windows, throwing a glow over the whole, birds and flowers and fruit, paintings and angels, it was the prettiest and most fantastic scene I ever beheld, like something expressly got up for the benefit of children. We did not kneel before each altar for more than three minutes, otherwise we should never have had time even to enter the innumerable churches which we visited in the course of the night. We next went to Santa Teresa, La Nueva, a handsome church belonging to a convent of strict nuns, which was now brilliantly illuminated, and here as in all the churches we made our way through the crowd with extreme difficulty. The number of leperos was astonishing, greatly exceeding that of well-dressed people. Before each altar was a figure dreadful in the extreme of the Saviour, as large as life, dressed in purple robe and crown of thorns, seated on the steps of the altar, the blood trickling from his wounds, each person before leaving the church devoutly kneeling to kiss his hands and feet. The nuns, amongst whom is a sister of Señor A, sung behind the grading of the gallery above, but were not visible. One of the churches we visited, that of Santa Teresa, called the Antigua, stands upon the site formerly occupied by the Palace of the Father of the Unfortunate Montezuma. It was here that the Spaniards recorded when they took Montezuma prisoner, and here Cortez found and appropriated the treasures of that family. In 1830 a bust of stone was found in the yard of the convent, which the workmen were digging up. Don Lucas Alaman, then Minister of Exterior Relations, offered a compensation to the nuns for the curious piece of antiquity which they gladly gave up to the government, on whose account he acted. It is said to be the idol goddess of the Indians, Santiago, the goddess of medicine and medicinal herbs, also known by the name of Temaz Kaltechi, or the Grandmother of the Baths. A full account is given of her in one of the numbers of the Mosaico Mexicano, as also of a square stone found in the same place, beautifully carved and covered with hieroglyphical characters. In the evening towards the hour when the great procession was expected we went to the balconies of the Academia, which command a fine view of the streets by which it was to pass. Till it arrived we amused ourselves by looking over the Bu Restes of former days. The collections of painting and sculpture, the fine plaster castes that still remain, and the great volumes of fine engravings. It was dark when the procession made its appearance which rendered the effect less godly and more striking. The Virgin, the Saints, the Holy Trinity, the Savior in different passages of his life, imprisonment and crucifixion were carried past in succession, represented by figures magnificently dressed, placed on lofty scaffoldings of immense weight, supported by different bodies of men. One is carried by the Coachmen, another by the Aguadores, water carriers, a third by the Cargadores, porters, a Herculane race. First arrived the favorite protectress of all classes, the Virgin of Dolores, surmounted by a velvet canopy seated on a glittering throne, attired in her sable robes, her brow surmounted by glittering rays, and contracted with an expression of agony, of all representations of the Verhin, the only one which is always lovely, however rudely carved, with that invariably beautiful face of terrible anguish. Then followed the Savior bearing the cross, the Savior crucified, the Virgin supporting the head of her dying Son, the Trinity, the Holy Spirit represented by a dove, all the apostles from Saint Peter with the keys to Judas with the money bag, and a long train of saints all brilliantly illuminated and attended by an amazing crowd of priests, monks and laymen. However childish and superstitious all these may seem, I doubt whether it be not as well thus to impress certain religious truths on the minds of a people too ignorant to understand them by any other process. By the time the last saint and angel had vanished, the hour was advanced and we had still to visit the illuminated churches. Being recommended to divest ourselves of our ornaments before wandering forth amongst the crowd, a matter of some moment to the Signora A., who wore all her diamonds, we left our earrings, brusous, etc., in charge of the person who keeps the academia, and recommends our pilgrimage. Innumerable were the churches we visited that evening, the Cathedral, la Ensenanza, Jesús Maria, Santa Clara, Santa Brigida, Santa Hipolito, La Encarnación, the Five Churches of San Francisco, etc., etc., a list without an end, kneeling for a short space of time before each blazing altar. For the more churches one visits, the more meritorious is the devotion. The Cathedral was the first we entered, and its magnificence struck us with amazement. Its gold and silver and jewels, its innumerable ornaments and holy vessels, the rich dresses of the priests, all seemed burning in almost intolerable brightness. The high altar was the most magnificent, the second with its pure white marble pillars, the most imposing. The crowd was immense, but we made our way slowly through it to the foot of each altar, where the people were devoutly kissing the saviour's hand or the hem of his garment, or beating their breasts before the mild image of our Lady of Grief. Each church had vied with the other in putting forth all its splendour of jewelry, of lights, of dresses, and of music. In the Church of Santa Clara, attached to the convent of the same name, small but elegant, with its pillars of white marble and gold, one voice of angelic sweetness was singing behind the grating alone, and in the midst of a most deathlike stillness. It sounded like the notes of a nightingale in a cage. I could have listened for hours, but our time was limited, and we set off anew. Fortunately, the evening was delightful, and the moon shining brightly. We visited about twenty churches in succession. In all the organ was peeling, the blaze of lights overpowering, the magnificence of jewels and crimson velvet and silver and gold dazzling, the crowd suffocating, the incense blinding. The prettiest effect in every church was caused by the orange trees and rose bushes, which covered the steps of the altars, up to where the magnificence of the altar itself blazed out, and the most picturesque effect was produced by the different orders of mocks in their gowns and hoods, either lying on their faces or standing ranged with torches like figures carved in stone. In the passage leading to most of the churches was a table, at which several ladies of the highest rank sat collecting alms for the poor. The fair Quitesus had not been very successful, and that chiefly amongst the lower classes. The fatigue was terrible, walking for so many hours on that bad pavement with thin satin shoes, so that at length our feet seemed to move mechanically, and we dropped on our knees before each altar like machines touched by a spring and rose again with no small effort. Of all the churches we entered that night, the cathedral was the most magnificent, but the most beautiful and tasteful was San Francisco. The crowd there was so dense that we were almost carried off our feet, and were obliged, in defiance of all rule, to take the arms of our caballeros. Still, it was worth the trouble of making our way through it to see such a superbly illuminated altar. It was now eleven o'clock, and the crowd were breaking up as the churches are shut before midnight. In one corner of the middle aisle near the door was the representation of a prison from which issued a stream of soft music, and at the window was a figure of Christ in chains, his eyes bandaged and a Jew on each side, the chains hanging from his hands and clanking as if with the motion of his arms. The rush here was immense. Numbers of people were kneeling before the window of the prison and kissing the chains and beating their breasts with every appearance of contrition and devotion. This was the night before the crucifixion and the last scene of the Holy Thursday. We reached home, hardly able to stand. I never felt more dazzled, bewildered and sleepy, but I was wakened by finding a packet of letters from home, which brought back my thoughts, or rather carry them away to very different lands. On Good Friday, a day of sorrow and humiliation, the scene in the morning is very different. The great sacrifice is complete. The immortal has died a mortal death. The ladies all issue forth in mourning, and the churches look sad and won after their last night's brilliancy. The heat was intense. We went to San Francisco again to the tribuna of the Countess de Santiago to see the adoration and procession of the cross, which was very fine. But the most beautiful and original scene was presented towards sunset in the great square, and it is doubtful whether any other city in the world could present a coup d'et of equal brilliancy. Having been offered the entree to some apartments in the palace, we took our seats on the balconies, which commanded a view of the whole. The plaza itself, even on ordinary days, is a noble square, and but for its one fault a row of shops called a Parian, which breaks its uniformity, would be nearly unrivaled. Every object is interesting. The eye wanders from the cathedral to the house of Cortes, the Montepio, and from thence to a range of fine buildings with lofty arcades to the west. From our elevated situation we could see all the different streets that branch out from the square covered with gay crowds pouring in that direction to see another great procession, which was expected to pass in front of the palace. Booths filled with refreshments and covered with green branches and garlands of flowers were to be seen in all directions, surrounded by a crowd who were quenching their thirst with orgyat, chia, lemonade, or pulque. The whole square from the cathedral to the portales and from the Montepio to the palace was covered with thousands and tens of thousands of figures, all in their gayest dresses, and as the sun poured his rays down upon their gaudy colors they looked like armies of living tulips. Here was to be seen a group of ladies, some with black gowns and mantillas, others, now that their church-going duty was over, equipped in velvet or satin, with their hair dressed and beautiful hair they have, some leading their children by the hand, dressed, alas, how they were dressed. Long velvet gowns trimmed with blonde, diamond rings, high French caps, beferbelode with lace and flowers, or turbans with plumes of feathers. Now and then the head of a little thing that could hardly waddle alone might have belonged to an English dowager duchess in her opera box. Some had extraordinary bonnets also with flowers and feathers, and as they toddled long, top heavy, one would have thought they were little old women till a glimpse was caught of their lovely little brown faces and black eyes. Now and then a little girl simply dressed with a short frock and long black hair plated down and uncovered would trip along a very model of grace amongst the small caricatures. The children here are generally beautiful, their features only too perfect and regular for the face to fulfill the promise of its spring. They have little color with swimming black or hazel eyes and long lashes resting on the clear pale cheek and a perfect mass of fine dark hair of the straight Spanish or Indian kind, plated down behind. As a contrast to the senoras with their overdressed beauties where the poor Indian women trotting across the square their black hair plated with dirty red ribbon, a piece of woolen cloth wrapped about them, and a little mahogany baby hanging behind, its face upturned to the sky and its head going jerking along somehow without its neck being dislocated. The most resigned expression on earth is that of an Indian baby. All the groups we had seen promenading the streets the day before were here collected by hundreds. The women of the shopkeeper class or it may be lower in their smart white embroidered gowns with their white satin shoes and neat feet and ankles and ribosos or bright shawls thrown over their heads. The peasants and country women with their short petticoats of two colors generally scarlet and yellow for they are most anti-quirkerish in their attire. Thin satin shoes and lace trimmed chemises or bronze colored damsels all crowned with flowers strolling along with their admirers and tingling their light guitars and above all here and there. A flashing poblana with a dress of real value and much taste and often with a face and figure of extraordinary beauty especially the figure large and yet a lance with a bold coquettish eye and a beautiful little brown foot shown off by the white satin shoes. The petticoat of her dress frequently fringed and embroidered in real massive gold and a riboso either shot with gold or a bright colored china crepe shawl. Coquettishly thrown over her head we saw several whose dresses could not have cost less than five hundred dollars. Add to this motley crowd men dressed alla mehikane with their large ornamented hats and set-upis or embroidered jackets sauntering along smoking their cigars, leperos in rags, Indians in blankets, officers in uniform, priests in their shovel hats, monks of every order, Frenchmen exercising their wit upon the passers-by, Englishmen looking cold and philosophical, Germans gazing through their spectacles mild and mystical, Spaniards seeming pretty much at home and abstaining from remarks, and it may be conceived that the scene at least presented variety. Sometimes the tinkling of the bell announced the approach of Nuestromo instantly the whole crowd are on their knees crossing themselves devoutly. Two men who were fighting below the window suddenly dropped down side by side. Disputes were hushed, flirtations arrested and to the busy home of voices succeeded a profound silence. Only the rolling of the coach wheels and the sound of the little bell were heard. No sooner had it passed than the talkers and the criers recommenced with fresh vigor. The vendors of hot chestnuts and cooling beverages plied their trade more briskly than ever. A military band struck up an air from Semiramis and the noise of the innumerable matrakas, rattles, some of wood and some of silver, with which everyone is armed during the last days of the holy week broke forth again as if by magic, while again commenced at the sale of the judices, fireworks in the form of that arch trader, which are sold on the evening of Good Friday and left off on Saturday morning. Hundreds of these hideous figures were held above the crowd by men who carried them tied together on long poles. An ugly misshapen monster they represent the betrayer to have been. When he sold his master for thirty pieces of silver did he dream that in the laps of ages his effigies should be held up to the execration of a Mexican mob of an unknown people in undiscovered countries beyond the seas. A secret bargain perhaps made whisperingly in a darkened chamber with the fierce Jewish rulers, but now shouted forth in the ears of the descendants of Montezuma and Cortez. But the sound of a distant hymn rose on the air and shortly after there appeared advancing towards the square a long and pompous retinue of middored priests with banners and crucifixes and gorgeous imagery conducting a procession in which figures representing scenes concerning the death of our savior were carried by on platforms as they were the preceding evening. There was the virgin in mourning at the foot of the cross, the virgin in glory, and more saints and more angels, Saint Michael and the dragon, etc., etc. A glittering and innumerable train, not a sound was heard as the figures were carried slowly onwards in their splendid robes lighted by thousands of tapers which mingled their unnatural glare with a fading light of day. As the miserere was to be performed in the cathedral late in the evening we went there, though with small hopes of making our way through the tremendous crowd. Having at length been admitted through a private entrance, per favor, we made our way into the body of the church, but the crowd was so intolerable that we thought of abandoning our position when we were seen and recognized by some of the priests and conducted to a railed-off enclosure near the shrine of the virgin with the luxury of a turkey carpet. Here, separated from the crowd, we sat down in peace on the ground. The gentlemen were accommodated with high-backed chairs besides some ecclesiastics, for men may sit on chairs or benches in church, but women must kneel or sit on the ground. Why? Quien sabe, who knows, is all the satisfaction I have ever obtained on that point. A lonely walk. The music began with a crash that wakened me out of an agreeable slumber into which I had gradually fallen, and such discordance of instruments and voices, such confusion was confounded, such inharmonious harmony never before deafened immortal ears. The very spheres seemed out of tune, and rolling and crashing over each other. I could have cried, misere, with a loudest, and in the midst of all the undriiled band was a music master, with violin stick uplifted, rushing desperately from one to the other in vain endeavoring to keep time, and frightened that the clamor he himself had been instrumental in raising, like Phaeton entrusted with his unmanageable coarsers. The noise was so great as to be really alarming, and the heat was severe in proportion. The calm face of the Virgin seemed to look reproachfully down. We were thankful when, at the conclusion of this stormy appeal for mercy, we were able to make our way into the fresh air and soft moonlight through the confusion and squeezing at the doors, where it was rumored that a soldier had killed a baby with his bayonet—a bad place for poor little babies, decidedly. Outside in the square it was cool and agreeable. A military band was playing heirs from Norma, and the woman kind were sitting on the stones of the railing, or wandering about and finishing their day's work by a quiet flirtation, au clair de la lune. It was now eleven o'clock, and the pulcherias were thrown open for the refreshment of the faithful, and though hitherto much order had prevailed, it was not likely to endure much longer, notwithstanding which we had the imprudence to walk and attend it to our own house at San Fernando. In the centre of the city there seemed no danger. People were still walking and a few still drinking at the lighted booths, but when arrived at the lower part of the Alameda, all was still, and as we walked outside under the long shadows of the trees, I expected every moment to be attacked and wished we were anywhere, even on the silvery top of Popo Catapetl. We passed several crowded pulcherias, where some were drinking and others drunk. Arrived at the arches we saw from time to time a suspicious blanketed figure have hid by the shadow of the wall. A few doors from our own domicile was a pulque shop filled with leperos, of whom some were standing at the door shrouded in their blankets. It seemed to me we should never pass them, but we walked fast and reached our door in safety. Here we thundered in vain. The porter was asleep and for nearly ten minutes we heard voices within, male and female, ineffectually endeavouring to persuade the heavy-headed Cerberos to relinquish his keys. It would have been a choice moment for our friends had any of them wished to cost us, but either they had not observed us, or perhaps they thought that Sien walking so late must have been armed, or perhaps more charitable construction they had profited by the solemnities of the day. We got in at last, and I felt thankful enough for shelter and safety, and as we read of the day's performance as you may be in reading a description of them. Next morning, sabbado de gloria, I could not persuade myself to go as far as the plaza, to see the escariots explode. At a distance we listened to the hissing and crackling of the fireworks, the ringing of all the bells and the thundering of artillery, and knew by the hum of busy voices, and the rolling of carriages that the holy week was numbered with a past. We hear that it is in contemplation amongst the English here, headed by their minister, to give a ball in the Mineria, to celebrate the marriage of Quinvectoria, which will be turning these splendid halls to some account. I have some intention of giving a series of weekly soirees, but I am assured that they will not succeed, because hitherto such parties have failed. As a reason is given the extravagant notions of the ladies in point of dress, and it is said that nothing but a ball where they can wear jewels, and a toilette therewith consistent will please them, that a lady of high rank who had been in Madrid, having proposed simple tertulias and white muslin dresses, half the men in Mexico were ruined that year, by the embroidered French and Indian muslins bought by their wives during this reign of simplicity. The idea of a plain white muslin, a dress worn by any lepera, never having struck them as possible. Nevertheless, we can but make the attempt. We propose going next week, too, to Lanzingo, where our friends, the blanks, have a country place, from thence we proceed to visit the mines of Real del Monte. Twenty-third. On Monday we gave a tertulia, which, notwithstanding all predictions, went off remarkably well, and consisted of nearly all the pleasantest people in Mexico. We had music, dancing, and cards, and at three in the morning their German cotillion was still in full vigor. Everyone was disposed to be amused, and moreover the young ladies were dressed very simply, most of them in plain white muslins. There was but a small sprinkling of diamonds and that chiefly among the elderly part of the community. Still it is said that the novelty alone induced them to come, and that weekly soirees will not succeed. We shall try, besides which the lady of the blank minister proposes being at home on Wednesday evenings, the lady of the blank minister takes another evening. I, a third, and we shall see what can be effected. End of letter the fourteenth. Letter the fifteenth 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 the fifteenth. Letter from the Archbishop. Visit to the Incarnación. Reception. Description. The Novices. Convent supper. Picture-esque scene. Sonata on the organ. Attempt at robbery. Alarms of the household. Visit San Ocostín. Anonymous letter. The Vertín de los Remidios. Visit to the chapel. The Padre. The image. Anecdote of the large pearl. A mine. Twenty-fourth. The Archbishop has not only granted me permission to visit the convents, but permits me to take two ladies along with me, of which I have been informed by the minister, Señor C.O., in a very amiable note just received, in closing one from Señor Posada, which I translate for your edification. To His Excellency, Señor Donje de C.O., April 24th, 1842. My dear friend and companion, the abbess and nuns of the convent of the Incarnación are now prepared to receive the visit of our three pilgrims next Sunday, at half past four in the afternoon and should that day not suit them, let them mention what day will be convenient. Afterwards, we shall arrange their visit to the Concepción, En Zenanza, Antigua and Jesus Maria, which are the best, and I shall let you know, and we shall agree upon the days and hours most suitable. I remain your affectionate friend and capillán Manuel Posada. Accordingly, on Sunday afternoon we drove to the Incarnación, the most splendid and richest convent in Mexico, accepting perhaps la Concepción. If it weren't any other country, I might mention, the surpassing beauty of the evening, but as except in the rainy season which has not yet begun, the evenings are always beautiful, the weather leaves no room for description, the sky always blue, the air always soft, the flowers always blossoming, the birds always singing, Thompson never could have ridden his seasons here. We descended at the convent gate, were admitted by the fortress, and received by several nuns, their faces closely covered with a double crepe veil. We were then led into a spacious hall, hung with handsome lusters, and adorned with various virgins and saints, magnificently dressed, and here the eldest, a very dignified old lady, lifted her veil, the others following her example, and introduced herself as the Madre Vicaria, bringing us many excuses from the old Apez, who having an inflammation in her eyes was confined to her cell. She and another reverent mother, and a group of elderly dames, tall, thin, and stately, then proceeded to inform us that the archbishop had in person given orders for our reception, and that they were prepared to show us the whole establishment. The dress is a long robe, a very fine white chasmere, a thick black crepe veil, and long rosary. The dress of the novices is the same, only that the veil is white. For the first half hour or so I fancied that along with their politeness was mingled a good deal of restraint caused perhaps by the presence of a foreigner, and especially of an Englishwoman. My companions they knew well, the senorita having even passed some months there. However this may have been, the feeling seemed gradually to wear away. Kindness or curiosity triumphed, their questions became unceasing, and before the visit was concluded I was addressed as Mi Vida, my life, by the whole establishment. Where was I born? Where had I lived? What convents had I seen? Which did I prefer, the convents in France or those in Mexico? Which were the largest? Which had the best garden? Et cetera, et cetera. Fortunately I could with truth give the preference to their convent as to spaciousness and magnificence over any I ever saw. The Mexican style of building is peculiarly advantageous for recluses, the great galleries and courts affording them a constant supply of fresh air, while the fountains sound so cheerfully and the garden in this climate of perpetual spring affords them such a constant source of enjoyment all the year round that one pities their secluded state much less here than in any other country. This convent is in fact a palace. The garden into which they led us first is kept in good order with its stone walks, stone benches, and an ever-playing and sparkling fountain. The trees were bending with fruit and they pulled quantities of the most beautiful flowers for us, sweet peas and roses with which all gardens here abound, carnations, jasmine and heliotrope. It was a pretty picture to see them wandering about or standing in groups in this high-walled garden while the sun was setting behind the hills and the noise of the city was completely excluded. Everything breathing repose and contentment. Most of the halls in the convent are noble rooms. We visited the hall from the refactory to the botica and admired extreme cleanliness of everything, especially of the immense kitchen, which seems hollowed from the approach even of a particle of dust. The circumstance is partly accounted for by the fact that each nun has a servant and some have two, for this is not one of the strictest orders. The convent is rich, each novice at her entrance pays five thousand dollars into the common stock. There are about thirty nuns and ten novices. The prevailing sin in a convent generally seems to be pride, the pride that apes humility, and it is perhaps nearly inseparable from the conventional state. Set apart from the rest of the world, they from their little world are too apt to look down with contempt, which may be mingled with envy or modified by pity, but must be unsuited to a true Christian spirit. The novices were presented to us poor little entrapped things who really believe they will be let out at the end of the year if they should grow tired, as if they would ever be permitted to grow tired. The two eldest and most reverent ladies are sisters, thin, tall, and stately, with high noses and remains of beauty. They have been in the convent since they were eight years old, which is remarkable, as sisters are rarely allowed to profess in the same establishment, and consider la Incarnación as a small piece of heaven upon earth. There were some handsome faces amongst them, and one whose expression and dyes were singularly lovely, but truth to say these were rather exceptions to the general rule. Having visited the whole building, and admired one virgin's blue satin and pearls, and another's black velvet and diamonds, sleeping holy infant saints, paintings, shrines, and confessionals, having even climbed up the azotea, which commands a magnificent view, we came at length to a large hall decorated with paintings and furnished with antique high-backed armchairs, where a very elegant supper lighted up and ornamented greeted our astonished eyes. Cakes, chocolate, ices, creams, custard tarts, jellies, blank mangers, orange and lemonade, and other profane dainties ornamented with gilt paper cut into little flags, etc. I was placed in a chair that might have served for a pope under a holy family. The senora blank and the senorita blank on either side, the elder nuns in stately array occupied the other armchairs and looked like statues carved in stone. A young girl, a sort of pensioner, brought in a little harp without petals, and while we discussed cakes and ices, sung different ballads with a good deal of taste. The elder nuns helped us to everything, but tasted nothing themselves. The younger nuns and novices were gripped upon a mat, ala turk, and a more picturesque scene altogether one could scarcely see. The young novices in their white robes, white veils, and black eyes, the severe and dignified madres with their long dresses and mournful looking black veils and rosaries, the veiled figures occasionally flitting along the corridor. Our selves, in contrast, with our worldly dresses and coloured ribbons, and the great hall lighted by one immense lamp that hung from the ceiling, I felt transported three centuries back and half afraid that the hall would flit away and prove a mere vision, a waking dream. A gossiping old nun who hospitably filled my plate with everything gave me the enclosed flag cut in gilt paper, which together with her custards and jellies looked less on real. They asked many questions in regard to Spanish affairs and were not to be consoled for the defeat of Don Carlos, which they feared would be an end of the true religion in Spain. Attempt at robbery. After supper we proceeded upstairs to the choir where the nuns attend public worship and which looks down upon the handsome convent church, to try the organ. I was set down to a sonata of Mozart's, the servants blowing the bellows. It seems to me that I made more noise than music, for the organ is very old, perhaps as old as the convent, which dates three centuries back. However the nuns were pleased, and after they had sung a hymn we returned below. I was rather sorry to leave them, and I felt as if I could have passed some time there very contentedly. But it was near nine o'clock, and we were obliged to take our departure, so having been embraced very cordially by the whole community, we left the hospitable walls of la Incarnación. Twenty-eighth. Last evening we were sitting at home very quietly about ten o'clock, C. N. Monceau de Blanc, of the Blanc ligation, and I, when A. rushed into the room, all disheveled. Come quickly, sir, robbers are breaking open the kitchen door. A succession of feminine shrieks in the distance added effect to her words. C. N. jumped up, ran for his pistols, gave one to Monceau de Blanc, called up the soldiers, but no robbers appeared. The kitchen door was indeed open, and the trembling Galopena attested that, being in the kitchen alone, deemly lighted by one small lamp, three men all armed had entered, and had rushed out again on hearing her give the alarm. We somewhat doubted her assertions, but the next morning found that the men had, in fact, escaped by the azotea, a great assistance to all mehi-condepredators. At the end of this row of houses the people ran out and fired upon them, but without effect. The house of the old countess of S. F. had been broken into, her porter wounded, report says, killed, and her plate carried off. In the meantime our soldiers watched in the kitchen a pair of loaded pistols adorned the table, a double-barreled gun stands in the corner, and a bulldog growls in the gallery. This little passing visit to us was probably caused by the arrival of some large boxes from London, especially of a very fine harp and piano, both erards, which I had the pleasure of seeing unpacked this morning, and which in spite of jolting and bad roads have arrived in perfect condition. Thus far I had written, it being now the evening and I sitting alone, when a succession of shrieks arose even more awful than those which alarmed us last night. At the same time the old Gallopina, her daughter, and a French girl who lives here, rushed shouting along the gallery, not a word they said, comprehensible, but something concerning a robber in black with men at his back who had burst open the door. At the noise the whole household had assembled. One ran this way, one ran that. A little French tenturier, who it appeared had been paying the maids a polite visit, seized the loaded gun. The footmen took a pistol and hit himself behind the porter. Abe, like a second Joan of Arc, appeared with a rusty sabre. The soldiers rushed up with their bayonets. The coachmen stood aloof with nothing. The porter led up the rear, holding a large dog by the collar, but no robber appears, and the girls are all sobbing and crying because we doubt they're having seen one. Gallopina, the younger, shedding tears and torrents, swears to the men. Gallopina, the elder, enveloped in her reboso, swears to any number of men, and the recamaretta has cried herself into a fit between fear and indignation. Such is the agreeable state of things about nine o'clock this evening, for one real attempt to enter the house invariably gives rise to a thousand imaginary attacks and fanciful alarms. After many attempts at walking I have very nearly abandoned it, but take a great deal of exercise both on horseback and in the carriage, which, last, on account of the ill-paved condition of the streets affords rather more exercise than the former. I drove out this morning in an open carriage with a senoritae to her country house at San Augustine, the gambling emporium, but the famous annual FET does not take place until which Sunday and the pretty country villas there are at present abandoned. We walked in the garden till the sun became insupportable. The fragrance of the roses and jasmine was almost overpowering. There are trees of milliflore roses, heliotrope, and honeysuckle cover, every pillar, and yellow jasmine trails over everything. Found on my return an anonymous letter begging me to beware of my cook, and signed Fernandez. Having shown it to some gentlemen who dined here one thought it might be a plan of the robbers to get rid of the cook, whom they considered in their way, another with more probability that it was merely a plan of the attentive senor Fernandez to get the cook's place for himself. We went lately to pay a visit to the celebrated Verhin de los Remidis, the Gachupina, the Spanish patroness and rival of our lady of Guadalupe. This virgin was brought over by Cortés, and when he displaced the Indian idols in the great temple of Mexico, caused them to be broken in pieces, and the sanctuary to be purified he solemnly placed there a crucifix and this image of the virgin, then kneeling before it gave solemn thanks to heaven which had permitted him, thus to adore the most high in a place so long profaned by the most cruel idolatries. It is said that this image was brought to Mexico by a soldier of Cortés's army called Vela Fuerte, and that the day succeeding the terrible Noche Triste, it was concealed by him in the place where it was afterwards discovered. At all events the image disappeared and nothing further was known of it until, on the top of a barren and treeless mountain in the heart of a large magway she was found by a fortunate Indian. Her restoration was joyfully hailed by the Spaniards, a church was erected on the spot, a priest was appointed to take charge of the miraculous image. Her fame spread abroad, gifts of immense value were brought to her shrine, a treasurer was appointed to take care of her jewels, a camarista to superintend her rich wardrobe. No rich dowager died in peace until she had bequeathed to our Lady of Los Remedios, her largest diamond or her richest pearl. In seasons of drought she is brought in from her dwelling in the mountain and carried in procession through the streets. The visceral himself on foot used to lead the holy train. One of the highest rank drives a chariot in which she is seated. In succession she visits the principal convents and as she is carried through the cloistered prisons the nuns arranged on their knees in humble adoration. Plentiful rains immediately follow her arrival. Blank, who accompanied us, has on several occasions filled the office of her coachman, by which means he has seen the interior of most of the convents in Mexico. It is true that there came a time when the famous curate Hidalgo, the prime mover of the revolution, having taken as his standard an image of the Virgin of Guadalupe, a rivalry rose between her and the Spanish Virgin, and Hidalgo having been defeated and forced to fly, the image of the Virgin de los Remedios was conducted to Mexico dressed as a general and invoked as the patroness of Spain. Later still the Virgin herself was denounced as a Cachapina, her general sash boldly torn from her by the valiant General Blank, who also signed her passport with an order for her to leave the Republic. However she was again restored to her honors and still retains her treasurers, her camarista and sanctum sanctorum. Being desirous of seeing this celebrated image we set off one fine afternoon in a carriage of Blanks, drawn by six unbroken horses accompanied by him and his lady, and performed four leagues of bad road in an incredibly short space of time. The horses themselves were in an evident state of astonishment for after kicking and plunging and, as they imagined running away, they found themselves driven much faster than they had the slightest intention of going. So after a little while they acknowledged, in Blanks' capital coachman, The mountain is barren and lonely, but the view from its summit is beautiful, commanding the whole plain. The church is old and not very remarkable, yet a picturesque object as it stands in its gay solitariness, with one or two trees beside it, of which one without leaves was entirely covered with the most brilliant scarlet flowers. Senor Blank, having been the virgin's coachman, the Senora Blank, being the daughter of her camarista, and C. N., the minister from the land of her predilection, we were not astonished at the distinguished reception which we met with from the Reverend Padre, the guardian of the mountain. The church within is handsome, and above the altar is a copy of the original virgin. After we had remained there a little while, we were admitted into the sanctum, where the identical virgin of Cortes, with a large silver mague, occupies her splendid shrine. The priest retired, and put on his robes, and then returning and all kneeling before the altar, he resided the credo. This over he mounted the steps, and opening the shrine where the virgin was encased, knelt down, and removed her into his arms. He then presented her to each of us in succession, everyone kissing the hem of her satin robe. She was afterwards replaced with the same ceremony. The image is a wooden doll, about a foot high, holding in its arms an infant Jesus. Both faces evidently carved with a rude penknife, the holes for the eyes and another for the mouth. This doll was dressed in blue satin and pearls with a crown upon her head, and a quantity of hair fastened onto the crown. No Indian idol could be much uglier. As she has been a good deal scratched and destroyed in the laps of ages, Sien observed that he was astonished they had not tried to restore her a little. To this the padre replied that the attempt had been made by several artists, each one of whom had sickened and died. He also mentioned, as one of her miracles, that living on a solitary mountain she had never been robbed, but I fear the good padre is somewhat oblivious, as this sacrilege has happened more than once. On one occasion a crowd of leperos being collected and the image carried round to be kissed, one of them affecting intensive ocean, bit off the large pearl that adorned her dress in front and before the theft was discovered he had mingled with the crowd and escaped. When reminded of the circumstance the padre said it was true, but that the thief was a Frenchman. After taking leave of the virgin we visited the padre in his own old house, attached to the church where his only attendant, as usual among padre, is an old woman. We then made our way on foot down a steep hill, stopping to admire some noble stone arches, the remains of an aqueduct built by the Spaniards for conveying water from one mountain to the other, and with an Indian for our guide visited a newly discovered though anciently opened mine said to be of silver and which had until lately been covered with rubbish. We groped through it and found vaults and excavations in a deep pit of water. CN got some Indians to break off pieces of stone for him which were put into a sack and sent home for examination. We were so tired of our walk down the steep and mountainous path that on our return I mounted a horse with a man's saddle belonging to one of the servants and contrived to keep on while it climbed up the perpendicular ascent. As this seemed rather a selfish proceeding while the others walked I invited Senora Blank to mount also in front, which she did, and the path being almost perpendicular my head nearly touched the ground which certainly made the seat not over safe or easy. However we reached the top of the mountain in safety though somewhat exhausted with laughing, and were driven home with the speed of a rail car. End of letter the 15th. Letter the 16th 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 the 16th. Mexico in May. Leave Mexico for Santiago. Coach of Charles the Tenth. Mexican traveling. General aspect of the country. Village of Santa Clara. Robbers house. Temples of the sun and moon. San Juan. Mexican Posada. Schoolhouse. Skulls. Hard fare. Traveling dress. Sopayuca. Military administrator. Santiago. Matadors and picadors. Evening in the country. Dances. Mexican songs. Kempoala. Plaza de Toros. Skill of the horsemen. Komatuzco. Accident. Tulansingo. Beautiful garden. Mexican dishes. Fruits. Horses. Games of four feet. Rancheras dress. Young girls and their admirers. Verses. Knowledge of simple medicine. Indian baths. Hidden treasures. Anecdote. Santiago. May. Sixth. Before the setting in of the rainy season we accepted of the invitation of our friends, the blanks, to visit the different haciendas, as in a short time the roads will become nearly impassable. The country in May is perhaps at its highest beauty, or even a little earlier, as already the great blow of roses is nearly over. All rest. There are roses all the year round, though more in December than in July. And this, by the way, is rather a source of disappointment to the unwary traveler. He arrives in December and finds the gardens full of flowers. If this be the case in December, says he to himself, what will it be in May? May comes, the roses are over, and the chief flowers in the gardens are dahlias and marigolds. Our autumnal flowers. September and these autumnal flowers still bloom, and with them you have mignonnette and roses and then pinks and jasmine and other flowers. In fact there seems to be no particular season for anything. The weather at present is neither warm nor cold, but colder here than in Mexico, and when it does not rain it is lovely. Already there has been much rain and the torrents are so swelled that there was some doubt as to whether our carriages could pass them. Yesterday at five in the morning we left Mexico, in a coach once the property of Charles X. Sick transit, etc., and a most luxurious traveling carriage is that of his ex-majesty, entirely covered with gilding, save where the lilies of France surmount the crown, sad emblems of the fallen dynasty, lined with white satin, with violet-colored binding the satin cushions most excellently stuffed, large commodious and with a movement as soft as that of a gondola. A Frenchman bought it on a speculation and brought it here for sale. In former days from its gilded and showy appearance it would have brought any price, but the taste for gaudy equipages has gone by since the introduction of foreign, and especially of English carriages, and the present proprietor who bought it for its intrinsic good qualities, paid but a moderate sum for it. In this carriage drawn by six strong horses with two first-rate coachmen, and several outriders well armed, we went along at great speed. The drivers dressed mehican fashion with all their accoutrements, smart and new, looked very picturesque. Jackets and trousers of dearest skin and jackets embroidered in green with hanging silver buttons, the trousers also embroidered and slit up the side of the leg, trimmed with silver buttons, and showing an under-pair of unbleached linen, these with the postillon's boots and great hats with gold rolls, form a dress which would fair furor if some adventurers mehican would venture to display it on the streets of London. We left the city by the gate of Guadalupe, and passed by the great cathedral, our road lying over the marshy plains once covered by the waters of Lake Tuscucco. To the east lay the great lake its broad water shining like a sheet of molten silver, and the two great volcanoes, the rising sun forming a crown of rays on the white brow of Popocate Petl. To describe once for all the general aspect of the country on the side of the valley of Mexico, suffice it to say that there is a universal air of dreariness, vastness, and desolation. The country is flat, but always enlivened by the surrounding mountains like an uninteresting painting in a diamond frame, and yet it is not wholly uninteresting. It has a character peculiar to itself, great plains of mague with its huts with uncultivated patches that have once been gardens, still filled with flowers and choked with weeds, the huts themselves generally of mud yet not unfrequently of solid stone, ruthless and windowless with traces of having been fine buildings in former days. The complete solitude unbroken except by the passing Indian, certainly as much in a state of savage nature as the lower class of Mexicans were when Cortez first traversed these plains, with the same character, gentle and cowardly, false and cunning, as weak animals are apt to be by nature, and indolent and improvident as men are in a fine climate. Ruins everywhere, here a visceral country palace serving as a tavern, where the mules stopped to rest, and the drivers to drink pulque. There a whole village crumbling to pieces, ruthless houses, broken down walls and arches, an old church, the remains of a convent. For leagues scarcely tree to be seen, then a clump of the graceful Arbol de Peru, or one great Cyprus, long strings of mules and asses with their drivers, pasture fields with cattle, then again whole tracts of Magway as far as the eye can reach. No roads worthy of the name, but a passage made between fields of Magway, bordered by crumbling down low stone walls, causing a jolting from which not even the easy movement of Charles X's coach can save us. But the horses go at full gallop, accustomed to go through and over everything. The first village we saw was Santa Clara, to our left, lying at the foot of some dark hills, with its white church and flat roofed or no roofed houses. There being no shade frequently not a tree for leagues, the sun in dust very disagreeable, and became more so as the day advanced. Here it came to pass that traveling rapidly over the hot and dusty plains, the wills of our carriage began to smoke. No house was in sight, no water within can. It was a case of difficulty, when suddenly blank recollected that not far from thence was an old rancho, a deserted farmhouse at present occupied by robbers, and having ordered the coachman to drive to within a few hundred yards of this house, he sent a servant on horseback with a medial, four pens to bring some water which was treating the robbers like honourable men. The men galloped off and shortly returned with a can full of water which he carried back when the fire was extinguished. Meanwhile we examined as well as we could the external appearance of the robbers domicile, which was an old half ruined house standing alone on the plain with no tree near it. Several men with guns were walking up and down before the house, sporting, looking characters but rather dirty apparently either waiting for some expected game or going in search of it. Women with ribosos were carrying water and walking amongst them. There were also a number of dogs. The well-armed men who accompanied us and the name of blank so well known in these parts, that once when his carriage was surrounded by robbers he merely mentioned who he was, and they retreated with many apologies for their mistake, precluded all danger of an attack, but woe to the solitary horsemen or the escorted carriage that should pass thereby. Nor indeed are they always in the same mood, for senor blank's houses having been frequently attacked in his absence and his hacienda at Santiago once stood a regular siege, the robbers being at length repulsed by the bravery of his servants. We set off again our grand gallop, drivers and outriders giving from time to time the most extraordinary shrieks to encourage the horses and to amuse themselves, wild and shrill enough to frighten any civilized quadruped. The road grew more picturesque as we advanced and at length our attention was arrested by the sight of the two great pyramids which rise to the east of the town of San Juan Teotihuacan, which are mentioned by Humboldt and have excited the curiosity and attention of every succeeding traveler. The huge masses were consecrated to the sun and moon, which in the time of Cortes were there represented by two vast stone idols covered with gold. The conquerors made use of the gold and broke the idols in pieces by order of the first bishop of Mexico. Unfortunately our time was too limited to give them more than a passing observation. Fragments of obsidian in the form of knives and of arrows with which the priests opened the breasts of their human victims are still to be found there and numerous small idols made of baked clay are to be seen both there and in the plains adjoining. The Indians rather disliked to guide travelers to these pyramids and their reluctance to do so has increased the popular belief of the existence of great concealed treasures near or in them. The whole plain on which these great pyramids stand was formerly called micoatl or the pathway of the dead and the hundreds of smaller pyramids which surround larger ones. The temples of the sun and moon are symmetrically disposed in wide streets, forming a great burial plain composed perhaps of the dust of their ancient warriors, an Aztec or Toltec, Pirella, Chase or rather a ruthless Westminster Abbey. So few of the ancient Teocalelis now remain and these being nearly the only traces now existing of that extraordinary race, we regretted them more not being able to devote some time to their examination. Fanatism and policy induced the Spanish conquerors to destroy these heathen temples, and when we recollect that at the time of the Reformation in civilized England the most splendid Catholic edifices were made level with the ground in compliance with the ferocious addict of John Knox. Ding down the nests and the rooks will fly off. We can have little wander or blame to bestow upon Cortes who, in the excitement of the siege, gave orders for the destruction of these bloodstained sanctuaries. In the afternoon we arrived at San Juan, a pretty village boasting of an inn, a schoolhouse, an avenue of fine trees, and a stream of clear water. It is true that the inn is a mejican posada bearing as much resemblance to what is generally called an inn as an hacienda does to an English country house. The schoolhouse, a room with a mud floor and a few dirty benches, occupied by little ragged boys and girls, but the avenue is pretty, the grass as green as emeralds, and the water crystal. We walked out while they changed horses, of which Senor Blanc had fresh relays of his own prepared all along the road, and entered the schoolhouse, attracted by the noise, and the invitingly opened door. The master was a poor ragged pale, care-worn looking young man, seemingly half-dinned, with a noise but very earnest in his work. The children, all speaking at once, were learning to spell out of some old bills of Congress. Several moral sentences were written on the wall in very independent orthography. C. N., having remarked to the master that they were ill-spelled, he seemed very much astonished and even inclined to doubt the fact. I thought it was one of those cases where ignorance is bliss, and fear the observation may have cost the young man a night's rest. A row of greeting skulls was ranged round the wall of the churchyard, and the sexton, who gave us admittance to the church, taking up one to show it off, it all crumbled into dust, which filled the air like a cloud. At the Posada they gave us rancid sheeps, milk, cheese, and biscuits so hard that C. N. asked the host if they were made in the same year with the church, at which he seemed mightily pleased and could not stop laughing till we got into the carriage. Soon after leaving San Juan we were met by the Señora de Blanc in an open carriage coming with her children to meet us, and though she had traveled since sunrise from her hacienda, she appeared as a freshly dressed for an evening party, her dress amber-coloured crepe trimmed with white blonde, short sleeves and decollete, a set of beautiful neapolitan strawberry coral set in gold. Straw-coloured satin shoes and a little china crepe shawl embroidered in bright flowers, her hair dressed and uncovered. We stopped at the hacienda of Sopak Yuka, an old house, standing solitary in the midst of great fields of mague. It has a small deserted garden adjoining amongst whose tangled bushes a pretty little tame deer was playing, with its half-stardle look and full wild eye. We found an excellent breakfast prepared, and here for the first time I conceived the possibility of not disliking pulque. We visited the large buildings where it is kept and found it rather refreshing, with a sweet taste and a creamy froth upon it, and with a much less decided odor than that which is sold in Mexico. This hacienda is under the charge of an administrador to whom Blanc pays a large animal sum, and whose place is by no means a sinecure as he lives in perpetual danger from robbers. He is captain of a troop of soldiers, and as his life has been spent in persecuting robbers, he is an object of intense hatred to that free and independent body, and has some thoughts of removing to another part of the country where he may be more tranquil. He gave us a terrible account of these night attacks of the ineffectual protection afforded him by the government, and of the nearly insupperable difficulties thrown in the way of any attempt to bring these men to justice. He lately told the President that he had some thoughts of joining the robbers himself as they were the only persons in the Republic protected by the government. The President, however, is not to blame in this matter. He has used every endeavor to check these abuses and difficulties have been thrown in his way from very unexpected sources. Apropos to which the Blanc consul told us the other day that some time ago having occasion to consult Judge Blanc upon an affair of importance, he was shown into an apartment where that functionary was engaged, with some suspicious looking individuals, or rather, who were above suspicion, their appearance plainly indicating their calling. On the table before him lay a number of guns, swords, pistols, and all sorts of arms. The Judge requested Senor de Blanc to be seated, observing that he was investigating a case of robbery committed by these persons. The robbers were seated, smoking very much at their ease, and the Judge was enjoying the same innocent recreation, when his cigar becoming extinguished, one of these gentlemen taking his from his mouth handed it to the magistrate who relighted his poodle, cigar added, and returned it with a polite bow. In short they were completely hand in glove. In the evening we reached Santiago, where we now are, about eighteen leagues from Mexico, a large house in a wild looking country standing in solitary state, with hills behind and rocks before it, and surrounded by great uncultivated plains and pasture fields. Everything is en grande in this domain. There is a handsome chapel and sacristy, a plaza de toros, hundreds of horses and mules, and between dependientes and hangers on, we sat down, thirty or forty people, to dinner. Seventh. The very day of our arrival, Bernaldo, the madador with his men, arrived from Mexico, bringing their superb dresses with them, for the purpose of giving us a country-bullfight. As an hacienda of this kind is an immense empty house without furniture or books, all the amusement is to be found either out of doors or in large parties in the house, and the unaustentatious hospitality which exists in this and some other of the old families, is a pleasing remnant of Spanish manners and habits now falling into disuse, and succeeded by more pretension to refinement and less of either real wealth or sociability. In the evening here, all assemble in a large hall, the Señora de Blanc playing the piano while the whole party, agents, dependientes, major domo, coachmen, matadors, pecadores, and women servants assemble and perform the dances of the country, jarabes, aforados, enanos, palomos, zapateros, etc., etc. It must not be supposed that in this apparent mingling of ranks between masters and servants there is the slightest want of respect on the part of the latter. On the contrary, they seem to exert themselves as in duty bound for the amusement of their master and his guests. There is nothing republican in it, no feeling of equality as far as I have seen, that feeling does not exist here except between people of the same rank. It is more like some remains of the feudal system where the retainers sat at the same table with their chief but below the salt. The dances are monotonous with small steps and a great deal of shuffling, but the music is rather pretty and some of the dancers were very graceful and agile, and if it were not invidious, to make distinctions we might particularize Bernardo de Matador, the head coachman and a handsome peasant girl, with a short scarlet and yellow petticoat, and a foot and ankle, a la vestrice. They were all very quiet, but seemed in a state of intense enjoyment, and some of the men accompanied the dancers on the guitar. First the player strikes up in quick time, and the dancer performs a quick movement, then the musician accompanies the music with his voice, and the dancer goes through some slow steps, such as the case in the afforado, or lining, a curious dom de tendres, expressive I suppose, of something soft and well wadded. The words are as follow. Vida, como estás, como te va, como has pasado la noche, no has tenido novedad. Dos, aforado de mi vida, yo te quisiera cantar, pero mis ojos son tiernos, y empazarán a llorar. Tres, de guadalajara vengo, lidiendo con un soldado, solo por venir a ver, a mi jarabe aforado. Cuatro, y vente conmigo, yo te dare, sabatos de raso, color de café. Of these poetical sublimities, a translation at once literal and metrical would, we think, damp the spirit of a colleridge. One, lining of my life, how are you, how do you do? How have you passed the night, have you met with nothing new? Two, lining of my life to you I should like to sing, but that my eyes are weak and tears might begin to spring. Three, from guadalajara fighting with a soldier, I came on, my well-lined sweet syrup, I came to see you alone. Four, and come then with me, and I will give these such fine shoes of satin the color of tea. It is coffee, but you will excuse the poetical license. The music married to this immortal verse I have learned by ear and shall send you. In the enanos, the dwarfs, the dancer makes himself little every time the chorus is sung. Uno, ah, que bonitos son los enanos, los chiquititos y mexicanos. Dos, sale la linda, sale la fea, sale el enano con su zalea. Tres, los senanitos se onojaron, porque a las enanas, les veis garón. There are many more verses, but I think you will find these quite satisfactory. Ah, how prettier the dwarfs, the little ones, the mexicans. Out comes the pretty one, out comes the ugly one, out comes the dwarf with his jacket of skin. The little he dwarfs were angry because someone pinched the sheet dwarfs. There is another called the toro, of which the words are not very interesting, and the zapatero or shoemaker was very well danced by a gentleman who accompanied himself the same time on the guitar. Yesterday morning we set off in a burning sun over a perfect egyptian desert to visit the famous arches of Zempoala, a magnificent work which we are told had greatly excited the admiration of Mr. Poinsett when in this country, this aqueduct, the object of whose construction was to supply these arid plains with water, was the work of a spanish franciscan friar and has never been entirely concluded. We travelled about six leagues and sat there for hours looking up at the great stone arches which seemed like a work of giants. In the afternoon we all rode to the plaza de toros, the evening was cool and our horses good, the road pretty and shady and the plaza itself a most picturesque enclosure surrounded by lofty trees. Chairs were placed for us on a raised platform in the bright green of the trees, the flashing dresses of the toreadors, the roaring of the fierce bulls, the spirited horses, the music and the cries, the indians shouting from the trees up which they had climbed, all formed a scene of savage grandeur which for a short time at least is interesting. Bernardo was dressed in blue satin and gold, the picadors in black and silver, the others in maroon colored satin and gold, all those on footwear, knee breeches and white silk stockings, a little black cap with ribbons and a plate of hair streaming down behind. The horses were generally good and as each new adversary appeared seemed to participate in the enthusiasm of their riders. One bull after another was driven in roaring and as here they are generally fierce and their horns not blunted as in Mexico it is a much more dangerous affair. The bulls were not killed but were sufficiently tormented. One stuck full of arrows and fireworks all adorned with ribbons and colored paper made a sudden spring over an immensely high wall and dashed into the woods. I thought afterwards of this unfortunate animal how it must have been wandering about all night, bellowing with pain the concealed arrows piercing its flesh and looking like gay ornaments. So when the watchful shepherd from the blind wounds with a random shaft the careless hind distracted from her pain she flies the woods, bounds o'er the lawn and seeks the silent floods with fruitless care for still the fatal dart sticks in her side and rankles in her heart. If the arrows had stuck too deep and that the bull could not rub them off against the trees he must have bled to death. Had he remained his fate would have been better, for when the animal is entirely exhausted they throw him down with a lasso and pulling out the arrows put ointment on the wounds. The skill of the men is surprising but the most curious part of the exhibition was when a coachman of blanks, a strong handsome make and mounted on the back of a fierce bull which plunged and flung himself about as if possessed by a legion of demons and forced the animal to gallop round and round their reena. The bull is first caught by the lasso and thrown on his side struggling furiously. The man mounts while he is still on the ground, at the same moment the lasso is withdrawn and the bull starts up maddened by feeling the weight of his unusual burden. The rider must dismount in the same way, the bull being first thrown down otherwise he would be gored in a moment. It is terribly dangerous, for if the men were to lose his seat his death is nearly certain but these mehicans are superb riders. A monk who is attached to the establishment seems an ardent admirer of these sports and his presence is useful in case of a dangerous accident occurring which is not unfrequent. The amusement was suddenly interrupted by sudden darkness and a tremendous storm of rain and thunder in the midst of which we mounted our horses and galloped home. Another bullfight last evening. It is like pulque, one makes rife faces at it at first and then begins to like it. One thing we soon discovered which was that the bulls if so inclined could leap upon our platform as they occasionally sprang over a wall twice as high. There was a part of the spectacle rather too horrible. The horse of one of the picadors was gored, his side torn up by the bull's horns and in this state streaming with blood he was forced to gallop round the circle. We spent one day in visiting Omatusco and Hacienda belonging to the senora T.A. situated in the plains of Apan and famous for the superior excellence of its pulque. The organas, the nopal and great fields of Mague constitute the chief vegetation for many miles round. The Hacienda itself, a fine large building, stands lonely and bleak in the midst of Magues. A fine chapel left unfinished since her husband's death attracted our attention by its simple architecture and unpretending elegance. It is nearly impossible to conceive anything more lonely than a residence here must be, or in fact in any of the Hacienda situated on these great plains of Otumba and Apan. This morning we set off for Toulansigno in four carriages and six, containing the whole family, ourselves, maids and children, padre and nurse-regoverness, relays being placed all along the road which we traversed at full gallop. But in crossing some great pasture fields the drivers of two of the carriages began to race. One of the horses fell and threw the postillion. The carriage itself was overturned and though none of the inmates was injured, the poor mozo was terribly wounded in his head and legs. No assistance being near he changed places with one of the men on horseback and was brought on slowly. About three in the afternoon we arrived at Toulansigno, rather an important city in its way, and which has been the theatre of many revolutionary events, with various streets and shops, a handsome church, alcaldes, a prefect, etc. There appear to be some few good houses and decent families and clean small shops, and there are pretty shady walks in the environs, and though there are also plenty of miserable dwellings and dirty people, it is altogether rather a civilized place. The house of Blanc which stands within a courtyard and is the house, par excellence is very handsome, with little furniture, but with some remnants of luxury. The dining hall is a noble room with beautiful Chinese paper, opening into a garden, which is the boast of the Republic, and is indeed singularly pretty, and kept in beautiful order, with gravel walks and fine trees, clear tanks and sparkling fountains, and an extraordinary profusion of the most beautiful flowers, roses especially. There is something extremely oriental in its appearance, and the fountains are ornamented with china vases and Chinese figures of great value. Walking along under arches formed by rose bushes, a small column of water spouted forth from each bush, sprinkling us all over with its showers, but the prettiest thing in the garden is a great tank of clear water, enclosed on three sides by a Chinese building, round which runs a piazza with stone pillars shaded by a draper of white curtains. Comfortable well-cushioned sofas are arranged along the piazza, which opens into a large room where one may dress after bathing. It is the prettiest and coolest retreat possible, and entirely surrounded by trees and roses. Here one may lie at noonday with a sun in the world completely shut out. They call this an English garden, then which it rather resembles the summer retreat of a sultan. When we arrived we found dinner laid for forty persons, and the table ornamented by the taste of the gardener with pyramids of beautiful flowers. I have now formed acquaintance with many Mexican dishes. Mole, meat stewed in red chile, boiled nopal, fried bananas, green chile, etc. Then we invariably have frijoles, brown bean stewed, hot tortillas, and this being in the country, pulque is the universal beverage. In Mexico tortillas and pulque are considered unfashionable, though both are to be met with occasionally, in some of the best old houses. They have here a most delicious species of cream cheese made by the Indians and ate with virgin honey. I believe there is an intermixature of goat's milk in it, but the Indian families who make it and who have been offered large sums for the receipt find it more profitable to keep their secret. Every dinner has puchero, immediately following the soup, consisting of boiled mutton, beef, bacon, fowls, garbanzos, a white bean, small gourds, potatoes, boiled pears, greens, and any other vegetables, a piece of each put on your plate at the same time and accompanied by a sauce of herbs or tomatoes. As for fruits we have mames, cherry mochas, granaditas, white and black zapotes, the black sweet with a green skin and black pulp, and with black stones in it, the white resembling it in outward appearance and form, but with a white pulp, and the kernel, which is said to be poisonous, is very large, round and white. It belongs to a larger and more leafy tree than the black zapote and grows in colder temperate climates, whereas the other is a native of Tierra Caliente. Then there is the chico zapote of the same family with a whitish skin and a white or rose-tinged pulp. This also belongs to the warm regions. The capulin or Mexican cherry, the mango of which the best, come from the orizaba and cordova. The cayote, etc., of these I prefer the chirimoya, zapote blanco, granadita, and mango, but this is a matter of taste. 12. We have spent some days here very pleasantly, riding amongst the hills in the neighborhood, exploring caves, viewing waterfalls, and climbing on foot or on horseback, wherever foot or horse could penetrate. No habits to be warned in these parts, as I found from experience, after being caught upon a gigantic magua and my gown torn in two. It is certainly always the wisest plan to adopt the customs of the country one lives in. A dress, either of stuff such as merino or of muslin, as short as it is usually worn, a riboso tied over one shoulder and a large straw hat, is about the most convenient costume that can be adopted. The horses are small but strong, spirited and well-made, generally unshot, which they say makes the motion more agreeable, and, almost all, at least, all ladies' horses are taught the paso, which have fine tiresome for a continuance, though a good paso horse will keep up with others that gallop and for a longer time. The great amusement here in the evening is playing at Juegos de Prendas, games with four feet, which I recommend to all who wish to make a rapid improvement in the Spanish tongue. Last night, being desired to name a four-feet for the padre, I condemned him to dance the Harabe, of which he performed a few steps in his long gown and girdle, with equal awkwardness and good nature. We met today the prettiest little Rantera, a farmer's wife or daughter riding in front of a mozo on the same horse, their usual mode dressed in a short embroidered muslin petticoat, white satin shoes, a pearl necklace and earrings, a riboso, and a large round straw hat. The ladies sit their horse on the contrary side to our fashion, they have generally adopted English saddles, but the farmer's wives frequently sit in a sort of chair, which they find much more commodious. Some country ladies who attended mass in the chapel this morning were dressed in very short, clear white muslin gowns, very much starched and so disposed as to show two under petticoats, also stiffly starched and trimmed with lace, their shoes colored satin. Considered as a custom of their own, I begin to think it's rather pretty. The oldest women here or in Mexico never wear caps, nothing but their own gray hair, sometimes cut short, sometimes turned up with a comb, and not unusually tied behind in a pigtail. There is no attempt to conceal the ravages of time. It appears to me that amongst the young girls here there is not that desire to enter upon the cares of matrimony, which is to be observed in many other countries. The apropious epithet of old maid is unknown. A girl is not the less admired because she has been ten or a dozen years in society. The most severe remark made on her is that she is hard to please. No one calls her passe or looks out for a new face to admire. I have seen no courting of the young men either in mothers or daughters, no matchmaking mamas or daughters looking out for their own interests. In fact young people have so few opportunities of being together that Mexican marriages must be made in heaven, for I see no opportunity of bringing them about upon earth. The young men, when they do meet with young ladies in society, appear devoted to and very much afraid of them. I know but one lady in Mexico who has the reputation of having maneuvered all her daughters into great marriages, but she is so clever, and her daughters were such beauties, that it can have caused her no trouble. As for flirtation, the name is unknown, and the thing. I have been taking lessons in the Indian dances from Doña R.A. They are not ungraceful, but lazy and monotonous. On every door in this house there is a printed paper to the following effect. Teniendo de en el corazón a Jesús María y José. Who gives light to this house, Jesus? Who fills it with joy? Mary. Who kindles faith in it? Joseph. Then we see very clearly that there will always be contrition keeping in our hearts Jesus, Mary and Joseph. These are written in verse and below the most illustrious bishop of Monte Ray, Don Frey José de Jesús María Baluanzaran, hereby ordains and grants, along with the bishops of Puebla, Durango, Valadolid, and Guadalajara, two hundred days of indulgence to all those who devoutly repeat the above ejaculation, and invoke the sweet names of Mary, Jesus, and Joseph. The people here have certainly a poetical vein in their composition. Everything is put into verse, sometimes doggerel, like the above in which Luz rhyming with Jesús shows that the Z is pronounced here like an S, occasionally a little better but always in rhyme. We went this evening to visit the Count Estelle Blanc, who has a house in the village. Found her in bed, feverish, and making use of simple remedies such as herbs, the knowledge and use of which have descended from the ancient Indians to the present lords of the soil. The Spanish historians who have written upon the conquest of Mexico all mentioned the knowledge which the Mexican physicians had of herbs. It was supposed by these last that for every infirmity there was a remedy in the herbs of the field, and to apply them according to the nature of the melody, was the chief science of these primitive professors of medicine. Much which is now used in European pharmacies due to the research of Mexican doctors such as sarsaperia, halap, friars, rubb, mechuacan, etc., also various emidics, antidotes to poison, remedies against fever, and an infinite number of plants, minerals, gums, and simple medicines. As for their infusions, decoctions, ointments, plasters, oils, etc., Cortes himself mentions the wonderful number of these which he saw in the Mexican market for sale. From certain trees they distilled balsams and drew a balsamic liquid both from a decoction of the branches and from the bark steeped in water. Bleeding and bathing were their other favorite remedies. The country people breathed a vein with a magui point and when they could not find leeches substituted the prickles of the American hedgehog. Besides bathing in the rivers, lakes, tanks, and fountains they used a bath which is still to be seen in many Indian villages and which they call the temezcalili. It is made of unbaked bricks, its form is that of a baker's oven, about eight feet wide and six high, a pavement rather convex and lower than the surface of the soil. A person can enter this bath only on his knees. Opposite the entries a stone or brick stove its opening towards the exterior of the bath with a hole to let out the smoke. Before the bath is prepared the floor inside is covered with a mat on which is placed a jar of water, some herbs and leaves of corn. The stove is then heated until the stones which united with the bath become red hot. When the bather enters the entry is closed and the only opening left is a hole at the top of the vault which when the smoke of the oven has passed through is also shut. They then pour water upon the red hot stones from which a thick vapor arises which fills the temezcalili. The bather then throws himself on the mat and drawing down the steam with the herbs and the maize wets them in the tepid water of the jar and if he has any pain applies them to the part affected. This having produced perspiration the door is opened and the well-baked patient comes out and dresses. For fevers for bad colds for the bite of a poisonous animal this is said to be a certain cure also for acute rheumatism. For the cure of wounds the Spaniards found the Mexican remedies most efficacious. Cortes himself was cured by one of their doctors of a severe wound in the head received a rotumba through which we lately passed. For fractures, for humours, for everything they had their remedy sometimes pulverizing the seeds of plants and attributing much of their efficacy to the superstitious ceremonies and prayers which they used while applying them especially those which they offered up to. Zapot Latin, the goddess of medicine. A great deal of this knowledge is still preserved amongst their descendants and considered efficacious. For every illness there is an herb, for every accident a remedy. Baths are in constant use although these temezcalilis are confined to the Indians. In every family there is some knowledge of simple medicine very necessary in haciendas especially where no physician can possibly be procured. There is a hill upon blanks property set to contain much buried treasure. There are many traditions here of this concealed Indian wealth but very little gold has been actually recovered from these mountain tombs. Buried gold has occasionally come to light, not by researchers in the mountains for few are rash enough to throw away their money in search of what would probably prove an imaginary treasure but by accident in the ruins of old houses where the proprietors had deposited it for safety in some period of revolution perhaps no later than at the time of the Spanish expulsion. Some years ago an old and very poor woman rented a house in the environs of Mexico as old and wretched as herself for four reels a week. It had an old broken up stone patio in her courtyard which she used occasionally to sweep with a little old broom. One day she observed two or three stones in his patio larger and more carefully put together than the others and the little old woman being a daughter of Eve by some collateral branch poked down and worked at the stones until she was able to raise them up when low and behold she discovered a can full of treasure no less than five thousand dollars in gold her delight and her fright were unbounded and being a prudent old lady she determined in the first place to leave the house and next to bring in her treasure poquito a poquito little by little to a room in Mexico keeping the old house as a sort of bank she did so took a nice room and instead of sleeping on a petate mat as she had hitherto done bought herself a little bedstead and even a mattress treated herself not only to chocolate but a few bottles of good wine such extraordinary luxury could not fail to create suspicion she was questioned by her neighbors and at length entrusted her secret to their keeping history says that notwithstanding this she was not robbed and was allowed to enjoy her good fortune in peace it is difficult to credit such a miracle in this land of picking and stealing but any authority is beyond impeachment whilst i write on these irrelevant matters i am warned that the coaches are at the door and that we are about setting off for te pena casco another hacienda of señor blanques a few leagues from this and of latter the 16th