LETTER THE SEVENTH.
Débût in Mexico — Cathedral — Temple of the Aztecs — Congregation — Stone of sacrifices — Palace — Importunate léperos — Visit to the President — Countess C a — Street cries — Tortilleras — Sartor Resartus.
I made my débût in Mexico by going to mass in the cathedral. We drove through the Alameda, near which we live, and admired its noble trees, flowers, and fountains, all sparkling in the sun. We met but few carriages there, an occasional gentleman on horseback, and a few solitary-looking people resting on the stone benches, also plenty of beggars, and the forçats in chains, watering the avenues. We passed through the Calle San Francisco, the handsomest street in Mexico, both as to shops and houses, (containing, amongst others, the richly carved but now half-ruined palace of Yturbide) and which terminates in the great square where stand the cathedral and the palace. The streets were crowded, it being a holiday; and the purity of the atmosphere, with the sun pouring down upon the bright-colored groups, and these groups so picturesque, whether of soldiers or monks, peasants or veiled ladies; the very irregularity of the buildings, the number of fine churches and old convents, and everything on so grand a scale, even though touched by the finger of time, or crush-
