At the doors of most of these sacred buildings ladies were seated, who received alms on large silver dishes, and rewarded you with a sweet smile; but in the sacristy of the Cathedral a system of begging was carried on that I did not notice elsewhere. It was a regular fair for Indulgences.

The body of our Lord, in wax, was laid on a bier near the door as you entered from the Cathedral, and near it, another figure was set up, representing him as he came bleeding and wasted from the scourgers. Close to these two figures sat priests begging every passer for a donation in return for indulgences. "Ten years' indulgence for an alms to the Holy Sepulchre," said one of them, with the plate before him;—and "twenty years' indulgence for an alms for the redemption of the faithful in captivity," shouted a tall blue-gowned Franciscan, who stood near the door as you went out, over-bidding his less liberal competitor between the figures.

25th, Good Friday. The gay dresses of yesterday are exchanged for deep black, worn by both men and women, and the day is celebrated by solemn services. I missed seeing the "descent from the cross," in the church of Balbanera, which is said to be performed by puppets, and to be admirably well executed.

26th. This is the last day of the ceremonies, and at half-past nine in the morning the injunction was taken from the bells and carriages. The streets were of course immediately filled with all the equipages of the city, whose postillions only waited for the first sound from the churchtowers, to dash out of their court-yards. The clang of the bells was incessant, and at the same moment, the air was filled with the smoke and explosion of myriads of crackers and fireworks, called "Judases" and "heretics" extended on ropes across the streets. The maltitudes of dogs with which the city is infested, scared at the unusual racket, howled along the streets, and the great amusement of the léperos was to trip the poor beasts with ropes as they dashed wildly over the crowded thoroughfares. And so ended in smoke, yells, jingling, carriage-rolling, horsetramping, Judas-bursting, dog-tripping, and folly, this farcical caricature of the most awful event in the history of religion. In the vanity of personal ostentation its effect is thrown away on the better classes, and it is entirely lost in the barbaric spectacle and tinsel show which are got up to bewilder and surprise the ignorant and low.

I HAVE intimated to you several times in these letters, that it is exceedingly dangerous to go out of the gates of the city of Mexico alone or unarmed. Indeed, a foreigner scarcely ever takes a ride as far as Tacubaya, without his pistols in his holsters, and a trusty servant behind him. Skirting one of the aqueducts which terminates in the southern part of the city, you pass westward over the plain to Chapultepec-the "Hill of the Grasshopper." It is an insulated porphyritic rock, rising near the former margin of the lake, and is said to have been one of the spots designated by the Aztecs, as a place where they tarried on their emigration from the north in search of a final resting-place, which was to be denoted by "an eagle sitting on a rock and devouring a serpent.”

At the foot of this solitary hill the plain spreads out on every side, in all the beauty of extreme cultivation, while a belt of noble cypresses girdles its immediate base. One of these trees still bears the name of "Montezuma's cypress,' ,"* and there is no doubt, from the remains of the gardens, groves, tanks and grottoes still visible about this beautiful spot, that it was one of the favorite resorts of the monarch and court of the Mexican Empire. The tradition is that the Emperor retired from the sultry city to these pleasant shades, which were filled, in his day, with every luxury that wealth could procure or art devise. It would have been difficult to select a spot better adapted for a royal residence. From the top of the modern Palace (now a military school) erected by the Viceroy Galvez, there is a charming prospect over the valley and lakes. You sweep your eye around a border of gigantic mountains, while at the bottom of the hill cluster the dense groves of cypress—the genuine antiquities of Mexico-old, perhaps already at the period of the conquest. Nor is it the least agreeable association with these venerable relics, that they are unconnected with any of the bloody rites of religion, but are eloquent witnesses of the better portions of Mexican character.

* It measures 41 feet in circumference, and 51, over some excrescences.

THE NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY

ASTOR, LENOX AND TILDEN FOUNDATIONS,

By a road leading south-westwardly from Chapultepec, at the distance of about a mile, you reach Tacubaya, a town somewhat celebrated in the history of Spanish diplomacy. It is a quiet country village, containing many delightful residences of the Mexican merchants, and is chiefly remarkable for a palace of the Archbishop surrounded by beautiful gardens and groves, from the azotéa of which there is one of the finest views of the volcano of Popocatepetl, and the neighboring mountain of Iztaccihuatl.

On the 28th of April, 1842, the city of Mexico was thrown into commotion by the recital of a dreadful double murder, that had been committed on the previous night in this village.

Mr. Egerton was an English artist-a landscape painter, of great eminence-who had resided several years in the Republic, and had just returned again to the country from a visit to England, bringing with him a lovely young woman as his wife. After residing a few months in town, he rented a small establishment at Tacubaya, to which he repaired with his lady, and during the period that he remained there, but seldom visited the Capital. Yet he sometimes came in to see his brother, and on the evening of the day preceding the fatal event, he left the city on his return home.

As soon as he reached Tacubaya, he went out, accompanied by his wife, to take their usual evening walk; and this is the last that is known of them with any certainty. In the course of the night, the little dog that usually followed them in their rambles returned to the house alone.

On the morning of the 28th, some péons, who were going from the village to work in the fields, discovered Mr. Egerton's body lying on the road. The spot was soon thronged by the villagers, and, after a thorough search in the neighborhood, the body of his wife was found in an adjoining field of aloes.

Those who saw the shocking sight, describe it as the most horrible they ever beheld. Egerton had evidently been slain, after a severe struggle; a rattan, which he still held firmly in the grasp of death, was cut and broken; his body was pierced with eleven wounds, and, though he had been dead near eight hours when discovered, his teeth were still clenched as if in anger, his eyes wide open, and his hair stiff on end! The poor lady was stripped naked, with the exception of her stockings and shoes; one wound, as if with a small-sword, penetrated her right breast; marks of strangulation were around her throat; her stomach was bitten, and she had evidently been violated.

It is impossible to describe the horror with which all classes of Mexico received this dreadful tale. The British Minister and Consul, and Mr. Egerton's brother, immediately instituted the most diligent search for the perpetrators of these crimes; but, although several men were arrested, the monsters remain to this day undetected.