the deserted paths of the Candelaria, a rival road to the Viga; lakelets scattered here and there in the midst of teeming vegetation, on whose surface float chinampas[1] looking like large baskets; a solitary vaquero hut here and there in the plain; then a range of hills overtopped by the sierra, form the principal features in the landscape. A placid stillness reigns over every part of the picture. Sometimes a pirogue is seen gliding noiselessly on the canal, sometimes a group of Indians kneeling in some grove before a Christ that they are decking with flowers, at whose feet they are piously depositing oranges and grenadilles, offerings which savor strongly of paganism. The flapping of the wings of an aigret hovering over the water, or that is losing itself in the blue sky, and the baying of some dogs prowling about, are the only sounds which break the stillness on this shady road. But at the approach of the Easter fêtes the road assumes quite a different appearance. Every Sunday in Lent, the entire population of Mexico assembles here, and a noisy crowd streams along the way. The day on which I went to the canal was the last Sunday in Lent. On reaching the road, I found the habitual promenaders of the Paseo and Alameda crowding every spot of the ground in the Viga; but it was not the crowd which chiefly attracted me, it was the canal itself. On that day, the reeds on the bank, ordinarily so still, waved and jostled to and fro under the continual motion of the water, produced by the passing and repassing of numberless fleets of boats. Launches, canoes, pirogues, were constantly coming and going; some conveying to Mexico, for the Holy Week, immense quantities of flowers, which diffused a most delightful odor around.
- ↑ Floating islands.
