palace in size, since occupied by Santa Anna, and which now belongs to Señor Perez Galvez; a house which we shall be glad to have, if the proprietor will consent to let it.
But what most attracts our attention, are the curious and picturesque groups of figures which we see from the windows—men bronze-color, with nothing but a piece of blanket thrown round them, carrying lightly on their heads earthen basins, precisely the color of their own skin, so that they look altogether like figures of terra cotta: these basins filled with sweetmeats or white pyramids of grease (mantequilla); women with rebosos, short petticoats of two colors, generally all in rags, yet with a lace border appearing on their under garment: no stockings, and dirty white satin shoes, rather shorter than their small brown feet; gentlemen on horseback with their Mexican saddles and sarapes; lounging léperos, moving bundles of rags, coming to the windows and begging with a most piteous but false-sounding whine, or lying under the arches and lazily inhaling the air and the sunshine, or sitting at the door for hours basking in the sun or under the shadow of the wall; Indian women, with their tight petticoat of dark stuff and tangled hair, plaited with red ribbon, laying down their baskets to rest, and meanwhile deliberately examining the hair of their copper-colored offspring. We have enough to engage our attention for the present.
Several visiters came early—gentlemen, both Spaniards and Mexicans. Señor Az, decidedly the ugliest man I ever beheld, with a hump on his back, and a smile of most portentous hideosity, yet cel-
