dure of the glade like an emerald. The vapor, rising from the sea, driven inland by the northern winds, here first strikes the mountains; and, lodging in rain and mist and dew among the cliffs, preserves that perennial green which covers this teeming region with constant freshness and luxuriance. Xalapa is consequently a "damp town," yet it enjoys a great reputation for its salubrity. It is now the best season of the year; but scarcely a day passes without rain, while the thermometer ranges from 52° to 76°, according to the state of the clouds and winds. As soon as the mountains have discharged their vapors, the sun blazes forth with a fierceness and intensity, increased by the reflection from every hill, into the town, as to a focus.

Yet I saw enough to justify all the praises even of extravagant admirers. Its society is said to be excellent, and its women are the theme of the poets throughout the republic. As I descended from the top of St. Francisco and wended my way to the hotel, I met numbers of the fair donzellas lounging homeward from early mass. The stately step, the liquid eye, the pale yet brilliant cheek, and an indescribable look of tenderness, com- i plete a picture of beauty rarely matched in northern climes, and elsewhere unequalled in Mexico.

After dispatching our breakfast, for which we paid (together with our night's lodging and dinner) the sum of four dollars, we mounted the diligence at 10 o'clock, prepared as usual for the robbers, and set out for Perote.

In driving from the town we passed through the public square; and in the market which is held there I first saw in perfection the profuse quantity of tropical fruits (and especially the chirimoya, and granadita,) for which Xalapa is renowned. The market is supplied by the numerous small cultivators from the neighborhood, the females of whom bear a resemblance to our Northern Indians, which is perhaps even stranger and more remarkable than that of the men.

Maiz, the great staff of life for biped and quadruped in our western world, is chiefly used in the tortillia cakes of which we hear so much from Mexican travellers.

The sellers of these tough, buckskin victuals, sit in lines along the curb of the side-walks with their fresh cakes in baskets covered with clean napkins to preserve their warmth. There they wait patiently for purchasers; and as tortillias, with a little chilé, or, red pepper boiled in lard, are indispensable at least twice a day for the mass of the people, they are quite sure of a ready sale.

With the great mass of Mexicans there is no such thing as domestic cookery. The laborer sallies forth with his clacos in his pocket, and two or three of them will purchase his cakes from an Indian woman. A few steps further on, another Indian woman has a pan boiling over a portable furnace, and containing the required beans or chilé. The hungry man squats down beside the seller-makes a breakfast or dinner table of his knees-holds out his tortillia spread flat on his hand for a ladle of chile

and a lump of meat-then doubles up the edges of the cake sandwich fashion, and so on until his appetite is satisfied. He who is better off in the world, or indulges occasionally in a little extravagance, owns a clay platter. Into this he causes his frijoles, or chilé and meat, to be thrown, and making a spoon of his tortillia, gradually gets possession of his food, and terminates his repast by eating the spoon itself! There is great economy in this mode of housekeeping which recommends itself, especially, to the tastes of old bachelors. There are no dishes to be washed -no silver to be cleaned, or cared for. Your Indian-flings down his clacos-stretches himself to his full height-gives a valedictory grunt of satisfaction over a filled stomach-and is off to his labor.

Thus wonderful is the frugality not only of the humbler classes, but, indeed, of almost all who have come under my observation in Spanish America. Whether this frugality is a virtue, or the 'result of indolence, it is not necessary for me to stop to inquire. The reader may draw his own conclusions. But all classes are content with less physical comfort than the inhabitants of other countries. Their diet is poor, their lodging miserable, their clothing coarse, inelegant and inadequate for the climate; and yet, when the energies and intelligence of the very people who seem so supine are called into action, few men manifest those qualities in a higher degree. Let me, as an illustration, notice the ARRIEROS, or common carriers of the country, by whom almost all the transportation of the

most valuable merchandise and precious metals is conducted. They form a very large proportion of the population, yet, by no similar class elsewhere are they exceeded in devoted honesty, punctuality, patient endurance, and skillful execution of duty. Nor is this the less remarkable when we recollect the country through which they travel-its disturbed state-and the opportunities consequently afforded for transgression. I have never been more struck with the folly of judging of men by mere dress and physiognomy, than in looking at the Arrieros. A man with wild and fierce eyes, tangled hair, slashed trowsers, and well greased jerkin that has breasted many a storm-a person, in fact, to whom you would scarcely trust an old coat when sending it to your tailor for repairs-is frequently in Mexico, the guardian of the fortunes of the wealthiest men for months, on toilsome journies among the mountains and defiles of the inner land. He has a multitude of dangers and difficulties to contend with. He overcomes them all-is never robbed and never robs—and, at the appointed day, comes to your door with a respectful salutation, and tells you that your wares or monies have passed the city gates. Yet this person is often poor, bondless and unsecured-with nothing but his fair name and unbroken word. When you ask him if you may rely on his people, he will return your look with a surprised glance, and striking his breast, and nodding his head with a proud contempt that his honor should be questioned, exclaim: “Soy José Maria, Señor, por veinte annos Arriero de Mexico-todo el mundo me conosce!"

"I am José Maria, sir, I'd have you know-an Arriero of Mexico for twenty years-all the world knows me!"

I regret, that I have been able to give only the faintest pencilling outline of Jalapa, which, with all its beauty, has doubtless hitherto been associated most nauseously in your mind with the drug growing in the neighborhood to which it has given its name.*

A beautiful scene, embracing nearly the whole of this little Eden, broke on me as we gained the summit of the last hill above the town. A dell, deep, precipitous, and green as if mossed from the margin of a woodland spring lay below me, hung on every side with orange trees in bloom and bearing, nodding palms and roses and acacias scenting the air with their fragrance, and peering out among the white walls of dwellings, convents, and steeples. In the next quarter of an hour, the mists that had been gathering around the mountains, whirled down on the peaks along which we were travelling, and as the wind occasionally drifted the vapor away, we could see around us nothing but wild plains and mountain spurs covered with volcanic debris, flung into a thousand fantastic forms, among which grew a hardy race of melancholy-looking pines, interspersed

*To give you an idea of the profusion of fruit in Jalapa I will state a fact. I gave a French servant a real 'twelve and a half cents) to purchase me a few oranges, and in a short time he returned with a handkerchief bursting under the load-he had received forty for the money.

I told the story to a Jalapenian with surprise: "They cheated him," said he; "they should have given him nearly double the number."