The country villas are filled with all that is gayest, and most distinguished in Mexico, and every house and every room in the village has been hired for months in advance. The ladies are in their most elegant toilettes, and looking forward to a delightful whirl of dancing, cock-fighting, gambling, dining, dressing, and driving about.
The high-road leading from Mexico to San Agustin is covered with vehicles of every description; carriages, diligences, hackney-coaches, carts and carratelas. Those who are not fortunate enough to possess any wheeled conveyance, come out on horse, ass or mule; single, double, or treble, if necessary; and many hundreds, with visions of silver before their eyes, and a few clacos, (pence) hid under their rags, trudge out on foot. The President himself, in carriage and six, and attended by his aids-de-camp, sanctions by his presence the amusements of the fête. The Mexican generals and other officers, follow in his wake, and the gratifying spectacle may not unfrequently be seen, of the President leaning from his box in the plaza de gallos, and betting upon a cock, with a coatless, bootless, hatless and probably worthless ragamuffin in the pit. Every one, therefore, however humble his degree, has the pleasure, while following his speculative inclinations, of reflecting that he treads in the steps of the magnates of the land; and as Sam Weller would say; "Vot a consolation that must be to his feelings!"
At all events, nothing can be gayer than the appearance of the village, as your carriage makes its way through the narrow lanes into the principal
