In passing through the country, one wearies of the long reaches of brown, arid soil which would seem to be beyond the redeeming power even of irrigation. Occasionally the scene is varied by a few yucca palms dotting the prairies at long intervals. Now and again a small herd of antelope dashed away from our neighborhood, and an occasional flock of wild turkeys were flushed from the low-growing bushes. These were exciting moments for one member of our party, who is a keen sportsman. At long distances from each other small groups of the pear-cactus, full of deep yellow bloom, lighted up the barren waste. Here and there a simple wooden cross indicated a grave, the burial place of some lone traveler who had been murdered and robbed by banditti, and over whose body a Christian hand had reared this unpretentious emblem. As we got further and further southward, the graceful pepper tree, with myriads of red fruit, began to appear, and afterwards became a prominent feature of the scenery.

Saltillo, which lies some seventy miles to the eastward of Jaral, is now the capital of the State of Coahuila. Before the separation of Texas from Mexico it was the capital of that State. It is situated five thousand feet above the sea level, on the northeastern edge of the table-land already spoken of, and has a population of about eighteen thousand. The table-land, as it is termed, declines more or less abruptly on the east towards the Gulf of Mexico, and on the west towards the Pacific Ocean. Saltillo is a manufacturing town, built almost wholly of sun-dried bricks, and is noted for the production of rebosas and serapes. The people living south of this region and on the lower lands make of Saltillo a summer resort. It is humorously said that people never die here; they grow old, dry up, and disappear. The place is certainly very healthy. It is over three hundred years old, and looks as though it had existed in prehistoric times. It has, like all Mexican cities, its alameda, its bull ring, and its plaza, the latter particularly well-cared for, beautiful in flowers and charming shade trees, together with well-trimmed shrubbery. The Calle Real is the principal thoroughfare, over which the traveler will find his way to the famous battlefield of Buena Vista (pronounced Wana Veesta), about eight miles from the city proper. This was one of the fiercest battles ever fought on Mexican soil. General Taylor had only forty-five hundred men of all arms, while Santa Anna's army numbered twenty-two thousand! The Americans had the most advantageous position, but were at times overwhelmed by numbers. Notwithstanding this, at the end of the second day, February 23, 1847, the American flag waved in triumph over the field, and the Mexicans were utterly routed. It was of this hard-fought battle that Santa Anna said: "We whipped the Americans half a dozen times, and once completely surrounded them; but they would not stay whipped." The battle of Buena Vista was fought at a great altitude, nearly as high above the level of the sea as the summit of Mount Washington in New England.

The baths of San Lorenzo, a league from the city, are worth visiting, being cleanly and enjoyable.

About seventy-five miles to the eastward of Saltillo, and eight hundred miles, more or less, from the national capital, on the line of the Mexican International Railroad, which crosses the Rio Grande at Laredo, is the city of Monterey,—"King Mountain,"—capital of the State of Nuevo Leon. It is eighteen hundred feet above the sea and contains nearly twenty thousand inhabitants. It was founded three hundred years ago, and its history is especially blended with that of the Roman Catholic Church during the intervening period. Here one finds quite a large American colony; but still the place is essentially Mexican in its manners and customs. The city stands upon very uneven ground, in the middle of an extensive plain, with grand mountains rising to view in the distance on all sides. The Rio de Santa Catarina flows through the town. In coming hither from Saltillo we descend thirty-five hundred feet, or about an average of fifty feet to the mile. It is considered to be a healthy locality, and invalids from the Northern States of this country have often resorted to Monterey in winter; but the public accommodations are so poor that one should hesitate about sending an invalid there who must necessarily leave most of the ordinary domestic comforts behind. Mexican hotels may answer for people in vigorous health who have robust stomachs, but not for one in delicate health. In no other part of the country is there a greater variety of the cactus family to be seen, illustrating its prominent peculiarity, namely, that it seems to grow best in the poorest soil. Several of the varieties have within their flowers a mass of edible substance, which the natives gather and bring to market daily. The flowers of the cactus are of various colors, white and yellow being the prevailing hues.

There is a very highly prized and remarkable water supply afforded the citizens by an inexhaustible spring, situated in the heart of the town, known as the Ojo de Agua. The cathedral is interesting, though it is not nearly so old as the Church of San Francisco. It was converted into a powder magazine during the war with this country. When General Taylor attacked the city, its remarkably thick walls alone saved it from being blown up, as it was repeatedly struck by shot and shell. Monterey is a finer and better built city than Saltillo. No stranger should fail to visit the curious Campo Santo, a burial place lying to the northwest of the city, and reached by the way of the alameda, which latter thoroughfare is hardly worthy of the name. The few notable buildings in the city are the municipal palace, the state government edifice, and the episcopal palace near the cathedral. All are situated about the Plaza Mayor, or Plaza de Zaragoza as it is called by the people here. A graceful fountain with spouting dolphins occupies the centre, supplemented by two lesser fountains, all very appropriate and artistic. Of the two confiscated convents, one is occupied for a jail, the other as a hospital. It will be remembered that General Taylor, with less than seven thousand men, took the city by storm in 1846, after three days of hard fighting, it being gallantly defended by ten thousand Mexicans under command of General Ampudia. General Worth, who on two occasions led desperate storming parties, was pronounced the hero of the occasion. General Grant, then only a lieutenant of infantry, distinguished himself in the taking of what was known as the Bishop's Palace, but which was in fact a citadel. The Americans carried the citadel by assault, and, planting their guns in position upon its wall, commanded the city, which was forced to surrender. The fighting lasted four days. The Americans lost in killed one hundred and twenty-six, and had three hundred and sixty-three wounded. The Mexicans lost five hundred killed, but the number of wounded was not made public. In recognition of the gallant defense made by the Mexicans, Taylor allowed them to retain their arms and equipments, and when they evacuated the city to salute their own colors.

Resuming our course westward by the way of Jaral, and having arrived at Torreon Junction, a distance of about three hundred and eighty miles from the International Bridge, connection is made with the grand trunk line of the Mexican Central Railroad, which will take us direct to the national capital. This important road extends from Juarez (formerly Paso del Norte), on the Rio Grande, to the city of Mexico, a distance of over twelve hundred miles. It is a standard-gauge road, well built and well equipped,—the growth, in fact, of American enterprise, and really nothing more or less than an extension of the Santa Fe Railroad system. Track-laying began upon this road from both ends of the line in September, 1880, that is, from the city of Mexico and from the Rio Grande at Juarez, and upon the completion of the bridge at La Encarnation, the north and south tracks met, March 8, 1884. The line was formally opened on April 10 following.

From this point southward, towards the mountain city of Zacatecas, we pass through a most uninviting country, where the mesquite bush and the cactus mostly prevail, a region so bereft of moisture as to seem like the desert of Sahara. Here again the cactus is seen in great abundance. As we have intimated, there are several hundred varieties known to botanists, most of which can be identified on Mexican soil, this being their native climate. No matter how dry the season, they are always juicy. It is said that when cattle can get no water to drink, they will break down the cacti with their horns and chew the thick leaves and stalks to quench their thirst. The variety of shapes assumed by this peculiar growth almost exceeds belief; some seen in Mexico assumed the form of trees from forty to fifty feet in height, while others, vinelike, run along the ground bearing leaves as round as cannon balls. Another variety, closely hugging the earth, twists about like a vegetable serpent. The great marvel relating to this plant has been, how it could keep alive and remain full of sap and moisture when other neighboring vegetation was killed by drought. But this is easily explained. It is protected by a thick epidermis which prevents evaporation, so that the store of moisture which it absorbs during the wet season is retained within its circulation. One sort of the cactus known as the cereus grandiflorus blooms only in the night; the frail flower it bears dies at the coming of morning. The cochineal insect of Mexico and Central America is solely nurtured by the native growth of cacti. The yucca palm, fifteen to twenty feet in height, with its large milk-white cluster of blossoms, resembling huge crocuses, dotted the expanse here and there. Occasional flocks of sheep were seen striving to gain a sufficiency of food from the unwilling soil, while tended by a shepherd clothed in brilliant colored rags, accompanied by a dog. Now and then scores of jack-rabbits put in an appearance among the low-growing mesquite bushes and the thick-leaved cactus. These little animals are called jack-rabbits because their tall, straight ears resemble those of the burros or jackasses. The mesquite bushes, so often seen on the Mexican plains, belong to the acacia family. They yield a sweet edible pulp, used to some extent as food by the poorer classes of natives and by the jack-rabbits. The burros eat the small, tender twigs. Indeed, they will apparently eat anything but stones. We have seen them munching plain straw with infinite relish, in which it seemed impossible there could be any nutrition whatever. This is a far-reaching, dreary region, almost uninhabitable for human beings, and where water is unattainable three-quarters of the year. The broad prairie extends on either side of the railroad as far as the eye can reach, ending at the foothills of the Sierra Madre—"Mother Mountains." Here and there, as already instanced, the burial place of some murdered individual is indicated by a cross, before which the pious peon breathes a prayer and adds a stone to the pile, so that finally quite a mound is raised to mark the murdered man's grave. Towards the twilight hour, while we rejoice that our lot has not been cast in such a dreary place, more than one hawk is seen to swoop from its lofty course and fly away with a young rabbit which it will eventually drop and thus kill before it begins to devour the carcase. Thus animals, like human beings, constantly prey upon each other. So prolific are these rabbits that they will soon prove to be as great a nuisance as they are in New Zealand, unless some active means are taken to prevent their increase. The wonder is that the half-starved natives do not make a business of trapping and eating them; but the poor, ignorant peons seem to be actually devoid of all ingenuity or enterprise outside of their beaten track.



CHAPTER IV.

Zacatecas.—Sand-Spouts.—Fertile Lands.—A Silver Mining Region.—Alpine Scenery.—Table-Land of Mexico.—An Aged Miner.—Zacatecas Cathedral. —Church and People.—A Mountain Climb.—Ownership of the Mines.— —Want of Drainage.—A Battlefield.—Civil War.—Local Market.— Peculiar Scenes.—Native Beauties.—City Tramway Experience.—Town of Guadalupe.—Organized Beggars.—A Noble and Successful Institution. —Market of Guadalupe.—Attractive Senoritas.—Private Gardens.

The first place of special interest on the line of the Mexican Central Railroad after leaving Torreon is Zacatecas, the largest town between the Rio Grande and the city of Mexico, being nearly eight hundred miles south of the river and four hundred and forty north of the capital. Its name is derived from the Indian tribe who inhabited this region long before the coming of the Spaniards. Between Torreon and this city, for a distance of some three hundred miles, as we have described, the country is lonely, prairie-like, and almost uninhabited, forming a broad plain over a hundred miles wide, with ranges of the Sierra Madre on either side. On these dry and sterile plains sand-spouts are frequently seen; indeed, half a dozen were counted at the same time from the car windows. These are created just as water-spouts are formed on the ocean, and to encounter one is almost equally serious. One must visit either Egypt or Mexico to witness this singular phenomenon. As Zacatecas is approached, large flocks of sheep and herds of mules and horses are grouped in the fields, overlooked by picturesquely draped horsemen. The cultivation of the land and its apparent fertility improve, and many one-handled ploughs, consisting of a crooked stick, sometimes shod with iron, are being used. The marvel is that anything satisfactory can be accomplished with such an awkward instrument, and yet these fields in some instances show grand results.

We expressed surprise to an intelligent citizen at seeing long lines of burros laden with freight beside the railroad, and going in the same direction, remarking to him that the railway ought to be able to compete with the jackasses. "You must take into consideration," said our informant, "that a man who owns a score of these cheap animals can himself drive them all to market or any given point. His time he counts as nothing; his burros feed beside the way, and their sustenance costs him nothing. Wages average throughout the country something less than thirty cents per day, and the cost of living among the peons is proportionately low. A railway is an expensive system to support, and must charge accordingly; consequently the burros, as a means of transportation for a certain class of goods, are quite able to compete with the locomotive and the rail." Of course, as other avenues for remunerative employment are opened to the common people, this antiquated style of transportation will gradually go out of use, and the locomotive will take the goods which are now carried by these patient and economical animals.

Zacatecas is the capital of the state of the same name, and has a population of nearly fifty thousand. This is one of the oldest and most productive silver mining regions in Mexico. The town seems actually to be built on a huge vein of silver, which has been penetrated in scores of places. Eight or ten miles below the city the cars begin to climb laboriously a grade of one hundred and seventy-five feet to the mile, presenting some of the most abrupt curves we have ever seen in a railway track. Here we are in the midst of Rocky Mountain scenery. One can easily imagine himself on the Northern or Canadian Pacific road, among their giant peaks, hazardous roadbeds, and narrow defiles. The huge engine pants and trembles like an animal, in its struggle to drag the long train up the incline and around the sharp bends, until finally the summit is reached. To mount this remarkable grade a double engine has been specially built, having two sets of driving wheels; but it is often necessary to stop for a few moments to generate sufficient steam to overcome the resistance of the steep grade.

Here we are on the great table-land of the country, about eight thousand feet above the level of the sea, in a narrow valley surrounded by groups of hills all teeming with the precious ore. These rich mines of Zacatecas have been worked with little intermission for over three hundred years, and are considered to be inexhaustible. "There is a native laborer," said an intelligent superintendent to us, "who is over seventy years old," pointing out a hale and hearty Indian. "He entered the mines at about ten years of age, so he has seen sixty years of mining life, and he may be good for ten years more." These men constantly climb the steep ladders, bearing heavy loads of ore upon their backs, for which hard labor they are paid about thirty-five or forty cents a day. The most productive districts, as relates to mineral products, especially of silver, lie in the northern part of the republic, but metalliferous deposits are found in every state of the confederation.

There are a number of important edifices in the city, among which is the municipal palace, the cathedral, and the mint. The courtyard of the first-named forms a lovely picture, with its garden of fragrant flowers, tropical trees, and delicate columns supporting a veranda half hidden with creeping vines. Both the interior and exterior of the cathedral are extremely interesting and worthy of careful study, though one cannot but remember how much of the wages of the poor populace has been cunningly diverted from their family support to supply this useless ornamentation. For this object indulgences are sold to the rich, and the poor peons are made to believe their future salvation depends upon their liberal contributions to support empty forms and extravagance. In his "Through the Heart of Mexico," lately published, Rev. J. N. McCarty, D. D., says: "If ever any people on earth were stripped of their clothing and starved to array the priesthood in rich and gaudy apparel, and to furnish them the fat of the land, these poor Mexicans are the people. Where the churches are the richest and most numerous, as a rule the people are the poorest. Their earnings have gone to the church, leaving them only rags, huts, and the cheapest and coarsest of food."

An ancient stone aqueduct supplies the town with excellent water, but it is distributed to consumers by men who make a regular business of this service, and who form picturesque objects with their large earthen jars strapped across their foreheads, one behind and one in front to balance each other. We are struck with the aspect of barrenness caused by the absence of vegetation. The nature of the soil is such as not to afford sustenance to trees, or even sufficient for the hardy cactus. The grounds are honeycombed in all directions with mines; silver is king.

Mines in Mexico are individual property, and do not, as we have seen stated, belong to the government, unless they are abandoned, when they revert to the state, and are very promptly sold for the benefit of the public treasury. In order to keep good the title, a mine must be absolutely worked during four months of the year. If this rule is in any way evaded, the government confiscates the property and at once offers it for sale, so that those on the lookout for such chances often obtain a good title at a merely nominal price. But there are mines and mines in this country, as in our western districts; some will pay to work and some will not. As a rule it depends as much upon the management of such a property as upon the richness of the native ore, whether it yields a profitable return for the money invested in the enterprise.

In climbing to the level of the city from the plain below, the railroad sometimes doubles upon itself horseshoe fashion, like a huge serpent gathering its body in coils for a forward spring, winding about the hills and among the mines, affording here and there glimpses of grand and attractive scenery embracing the fertile plains of Fresnillo, and in the blue distance the main range of the Sierra Madre. The color of these distant mountain ranges changes constantly, varying with the morning, noon, and twilight hues, producing effects which one does not weary of quietly watching by the hour together.

Vegetables, charcoal, fruit, and market produce generally are brought into the town from various distances on the backs of the natives. These Indians will tire the best horse in the distance they can cover in the same length of time, while carrying a hundred pounds and more upon their backs. Mules and donkeys are also much in use, but the lower classes of both sexes universally carry heavy burdens upon their backs from early youth. Some of the Indian women are seen bearing loads of pottery or jars of water upon their shoulders with seeming ease, under which an ordinary Irish laborer would stagger. Comparatively few wheeled vehicles are in use, and these are of the rudest character, the wheel being composed of three pieces of timber, so secured together as to form a circle, but having no spokes or tire, very like the ancient African and Egyptian models. To such a vehicle a couple of oxen are attached by a wooden bar reaching across their frontlets and lashed to the roots of the horns by leather thongs. The skins of animals, such as goats, sheep, and swine, are universally employed for transporting and storing liquids, precisely as in Egypt thousands of years ago. The daily supply of pulque is brought to market on the natives' backs in pig-skins, the four legs protruding from the body in a ludicrous manner when the skin is full of liquid. Everything in and about the city is quaint, though the telephone, electric lights, and street tramways all speak of modern civilization. The insufficient water supply is the cause of much inconvenience, not to say suffering, and partly accounts for the untidy condition of the place and the prevalence of offensive smells. The latter are so disgusting as to be almost unbearable by a stranger. No wonder that typhoid fever and kindred diseases prevail, and that the death rate exceeds, as we were told is the case, that of any other district in the republic.

There is an article of pottery manufactured in this vicinity, of a deep red color, hard-baked and glazed inside and out, having rude but effective ornamentation. Almost every large town in Mexico has one or more pottery manufactories, each district producing ware which is so individualized in the shape and finish as to distinctly mark its origin, so that experts can tell exactly whence each specimen has been brought. The manufacture of pottery is most frequently carried on by individuals, each Indian with his primitive tools turning out work from his mud cabin sometimes fit to grace the choicest and most refined homes. The accuracy of eye and hand gained by long practice produces marvelous results.

Overlooking the city, on a mountain ridge known as the Buefa, is a quaint and curious church, Los Remedios. From this point one obtains a very comprehensive view of the entire valley and the surrounding rugged hills. One of the most bloody battles of the civil wars was fought on the Buefa in 1871, between a revolutionary force under General Trevino and the Juarez army, which resulted in the defeat of the revolutionists. "Both sides fought with unprecedented frenzy," said a resident to us. "From those steep rocks," he continued, pointing to the abrupt declivities, "absolutely ran streams of blood, while dead bodies rolled down into the gulch below by hundreds." We ventured to ask what this quarrel between, fellow countrymen was about that caused such a loss of life and induced such a display of enthusiastic devotion. "That is a question," he replied, "which the rank and file of either army could not have answered, though of course the leaders had their personal schemes to subserve,—schemes of self-aggrandizement." It was Lamartine who said significantly, "Civil wars leave nothing but tombs."

It is the custom for a stranger to descend one or more of the silver mines; indeed, it may be said to be the one thing to do at Zacatecas, but for which only the most awkward means imaginable are supplied, such as ladders formed of a single long, notched pole, quite possible for an acrobat or performer on the trapeze. It is up and down these hazardous poles that the Indian miners, in night and day gangs, climb, while carrying heavy canvas bags of ore weighing nearly or quite two hundred pounds each. The writer is free to acknowledge that he did not improve the opportunity to explore the bowels of the earth at Zacatecas, having performed his full share of this sort of thing in other parts of the world.

Zacatecas has its plaza; all Spanish and Mexican towns have one. Probably, in laying out a town, the originators first select this important centre, and then all other avenues, streets, and edifices are made to conform to this location. In the middle of this plaza is a large stone fountain, about which groups of native women are constantly busy dipping water and filling their earthen jars, while hard by other women, squatting on their haunches, offer oranges, pineapples, figs, and bananas for sale. How these Mexican markets swarm with people and glow with color, backed by moss-grown walls and ruined archways! Long burro trains block the roadway, and others are seen winding down the zigzag paths of the overhanging declivities. Close at hand within these low adobe hovels, pulque is being retailed at a penny a tumbler. It is the lager-beer of the country. Poverty, great poverty, stares us in the face. No people could be more miserably housed, living and sleeping as they do upon the bare ground, and owning only the few pitiful rags that hang about their bodies. At the doors of these mud cabins women are seen making tortillas with their rude stone implements. These little flat cakes are bread and meat to them. Now and again one observes forms and faces among the young native women that an artist would travel far to study; but although some few are thus extremely handsome, the majority are very homely, ill-formed, and negligent of person. The best looking among the peons lose their comeliness after a few years, owing to hard labor, childbirth, and deprivations. Few women retain their good looks after twenty-five years or until they are thirty. Another fact was remarked, that these Indian men and women never laugh. The writer was not able to detect even a smile upon the faces of the lower grade of natives; a ceaseless melancholy seems to surround them at all times, by no means in accordance with the gay colors which they so much affect. In contrast to the hovels of the populace, one sees occasionally a small garden inclosed with a high adobe wall, belonging to some rich mine owner, in which the tall pomegranate, full of scarlet bloom, or a stately pepper tree, dominates a score of others of semi-tropical growth.

One practice was observed at Zacatecas which recalled far-away Hong Kong, China. This was the prosecution of various trades in the open air. Thus the shoemaker was at work outside of his dwelling; the tailor, the barber, and the tinker adopted the same practice, quite possible even in the month of March in a land of such intense brightness and sunshine. We wandered hither and thither, charmed by the novelty and strangeness of everything; not an object to remind one of home, but only of the far East. The swarthy natives with sandaled feet, the high colors worn by the common people, the burnous-like serape, the sober unemotional manners of the peons, the nut-brown women with brilliant eyes and half-covered faces, the attractive fruits, the sharp cries of the venders, the Egyptian-shaped pottery,—surely this might be Damascus or Cairo.

An excursion by tramway was made to the neighboring town of Guadalupe, six or eight miles away, nearly the entire distance being a sharp down grade, over which the cars pass at top speed by their own gravitation; no animals are attached. So steep is the descent that it may be compared to a Canadian toboggan slide. It requires six mules to draw each car back again, the animals being harnessed three abreast like the horses in the Paris and Neapolitan omnibuses. Though this tramway is now admitted to be an indispensable adjunct to the business of the place, when it was first resolved upon by some of the residents more enterprising than their neighbors, it was considered to be a serious innovation, open to great objections, the local priesthood bitterly opposing it. Even the moneyed mine owners and others who instituted the project had no fixed idea how to operate a tramway of this sort, and an American overseer was from the beginning and is to-day in charge. The cars were ordered from Philadelphia, and while they were building, the steel rails, which came from Liverpool by way of Vera Cruz, were laid down from one end of the route to the other. Finally, when the cars arrived from the United States, it was found that they would not run on the track, the fact being that the rails had been laid on a gauge three inches narrower than the cars were designed for. What was to be done? The Mexicans at first proposed to rebuild the cars,—make the bodies narrower, and cut off the axle-trees to fit the gauge of the rails. In their hopeless ignorance this was the only way they could see out of the difficulty. The present superintendent, a practical American engineer, was at the time in Zacatecas, and took in the position of affairs at a glance, offering for five hundred dollars to show the owners how to get out of the trouble without changing an article upon the cars. The money was paid, and with twenty men and some suitable tools the American took up a few rods of the track, made a proper gauge for the rest, and had the cars running over the short distance in one day. It was the old story of Columbus and the egg, easy enough when one knew how to do it. The managers of the road promptly put the American in charge, and he has filled the position ever since.

Guadalupe is an interesting town of some six thousand inhabitants, not counting the myriads of dogs, which do much abound in every part of Mexico. As a rule these are miserable, mangy-looking, half-starved creatures, with thin bodies and prominent ribs. The poorer the people, the more dogs they keep, a rule which applies not only here, but everywhere, especially among semi-barbarous races. The people seem to be very kind to pet animals,—though they do abuse the burros,—cats especially being of a plump, handsome species, quite at home, always sleeping lazily in the sunshine. If they do purr in Spanish, it is so very like the genuine English article that its purport is quite unmistakable. The persistency of the beggars here attracted attention, and on inquiry about the matter, a resident American informed us that these beggars were actually organized by the priests, to whom they report daily, and with whom they share their proceeds, thus enriching the plethoric coffers of the church. This seems almost incredible; but it is true. The decencies of life are often ignored, and the open streets present disgusting scenes. Men and women lie down and sleep wherever fatigue overcomes them, upon the hard stones or in the dirt. The town is generally barren of vegetation, though a few dreary cactus trees manage to sustain themselves in the rocky soil, with here and there a yucca palm.

There is a famous orphan asylum in Guadalupe which is designed to accommodate a thousand inmates at a time, and there is also a well-endowed college. The former of these, the Orfanatorio de Guadalupe, is one of the most important charitable institutions in the republic. The old church of red sandstone, with its somewhat remarkable carvings, as exhibited upon the facade, has two graceful towers and is elaborately finished within. The church contains a half dozen oil paintings by Antonio de Torres, which bear the date 1720. The finest of these is that of "The Last Supper." The very elegant interior of the chapel of the Purisima was not completed until so late as 1886, and is justly considered the finest modern church structure in Mexico. As one passes out into the surrounding squalor and obtrusive poverty, it is impossible not to moralize as to the costly, theatrical, and ostentatious road which seems to lead to the Roman Catholic heaven.

The little market-place of Guadalupe presents a scene like a country fair, with its booths for the sale of fruits, pottery, vegetables, flowers, bright-hued serapes and rebosas, all combining to form a conglomerate of color which, mingled with the moving figures of the mahogany-hued Indian women, is by no means devoid of picturesqueness. One must step carefully not to tread upon the little mounds and clusters of fruits and vegetables spread upon the ground for sale. The careless, happy laugh of a light-hearted group of senoritas rang musically upon the ear as we watched the market scene. Their uncovered, purple-black hair glistened in the warm sunlight, while their roguish glances, from "soul-deep eyes of darkest night," were like sparks of electricity. Was it their normal mood, or did the presence of a curious stranger, himself on the qui vive to see everything, move them to just a bit of coquetry?



CHAPTER V.

A Mexican Watering Place.—Delightful Climate.—Aguas Calientes.—Young Senoritas.—Local City Scenes.—Convicts.—Churches.—A Mummified Monk.—Punishment is Swift and Sure.—Hot Springs.—Bathing in Public.—Caged Songsters.—"Antiquities."—Delicious Fruits.—Market Scenes.—San Luis Potosi.—The Public Buildings.—City of Leon.—A Beautiful Plaza.—Local Manufactories.—Home Industries of Leon.— The City of Silao.—Defective Agriculture.—Objection to Machinery. —Fierce Sand Storm.

Aguas Calientes (hot waters) is the capital of a small state of the same name, and is a very strongly individualized city, containing something less than twenty-five thousand inhabitants. The town is handsomely laid out with great regularity, having a number of fine stone buildings, luxuriant gardens, and beautiful public squares. It is situated seventy-five miles south of Zacatecas, on the trunk line of the Mexican Central Railroad. This route brings us down to the plain through rugged steeps and sharp grades, near to the famous salt and soda lakes, where the Rio Brazos Santiago is crossed. Though we say that Aguas Calientes is on a plain, yet the town is over six thousand feet above sea level, and is well situated for business growth in a fertile region where three main thoroughfares already centre. It is just three hundred and sixty-four miles northwest of the city of Mexico. The Plaza des Armas, with its fine monumental column and its refreshing fountain, as well as several other public gardens of the city, are worthy of special mention for their striking floral beauty, their display of graceful palms and various other tropical trees. It seemed as though it must be perpetual spring here, and that every tree and bush was in bloom. The Mexican flora cannot be surpassed for depth of rich coloring. Sweet peas, camellias, poppies, and pansies abound, while oleanders grow to the height of elm trees, and are covered with a profusion of scarlet and white flowers. The day was very soft, sunny, and genial, when we wandered over the ancient place; all the treetops lay asleep, and there was scarcely a breath of air stirring. Every sight and every sound had the charm of novelty. Groups of young senoritas strolled leisurely about the town; their classic profiles, large gazelle-like eyes, rosy lips, delicate hands and feet, together with their shapely forms, indicated their mingled Spanish and Indian origin. The many sonorous bells of the churches kept up a continuous peal at special morning and evening hours. In spite of the half-incongruous notes of these different metallic voices floating together on the atmosphere, there was a sense of harmony in the aggregate of sound, which recalled the more musical chimes one hears on the shores of the Mediterranean. Mexican churches are not supplied with chimes, though each steeple has at least a half dozen, and often as many as a score, of costly bells.

Here and there the town shows unmistakable tokens of age, which is but reasonable, as it was founded in 1520. The variety of colors used upon the facades of the low adobe houses produces a pleasing effect. The love of the Aztec race for warm, bright colors is seen everywhere. The Garden of San Marcos, one of many open public squares, forms a wilderness of foliage and flowers, where the oleanders are thirty feet in height, shading lilies, roses, and pansies, with a low-growing species of mignonette as fragrant as violets, our admiration for which was shared by a score of glittering humming-birds. Here too the jasmine, with its tiny variegated flowers, flourished by the side of hydrangeas full of snow-flake bloom, while orange blossoms made the air heavy with their odorous breath. Close to this garden is the bull ring, opposite to which gangs of convicts are seen sweeping the streets under the supervision of a military guard. Though these men are unchained, they make no attempt to escape, as the guards under such circumstances have a habit of promptly shooting a prisoner dead upon the spot; no one takes the trouble to inquire into the summary proceeding, and it would do no good if he did. There is no sickly sentimentality expended upon highwaymen, garroters, or murderers in Mexico. If a man commits a crime, he is made to pay the penalty for it, no matter what his position may be. There is no pardoning out of prison here, so that the criminal may have a second chance to outrage the rights of the community. If a trusted individual steals the property of widows and orphans and runs away, he must stay away, for if he comes back he will surely be shot. All things considered, we believe this certainty of punishment is the restraining force with many men of weak principles. Since the order to shoot all highwaymen as soon as taken was promulgated, brigandage has almost entirely disappeared in Mexico, though up to that time it was of daily occurrence in some parts of the country.

There are several churches in Aguas Calientes which are well worth visiting, some of which contain fine old paintings, though they are mostly hung in a very poor light. There is an unmistakable atmosphere of antiquity within these walls, "mellowed by scutcheoned panes in cloisters old." The church facing the Plaza Mayor has a remarkable bell, celebrated for its fine tones; and when this sounded for vespers, Millet's Angelus was instantly recalled, the poor peons, no matter how engaged, piously uncovering their heads and bowing with folded hands while their lips moved in prayer. We were told of the great cost of this bell, which is said to contain half a ton of silver; but this is doubtless an exaggerated story framed to tickle a stranger's ear, since if over a certain moderate percentage of silver is employed in the casting, the true melody of the bell is destroyed. A queer object is shown the visitor for a trifling fee, in the crypt of the church of San Diego, being the remains of a mummified or desiccated monk, sitting among a mass of skulls, rib and thigh bones, once belonging to human beings. The moral of this exhibition seemed a little too far-fetched to be interesting, and our small party hastened away with a sense of disgust.

The hot springs from which the state and city take their name are situated a couple of miles east of the town, at the end of a delightful alameda. A small canal borders this roadway, which is liberally supplied with water from the thermal springs, and scores of the populace may be seen washing clothing on its edge at nearly any hour of the day, as well as bathing therein, men and women together, with a decided heedlessness of the conventionalities. The Maoris of New Zealand could not show more utter disregard for a state of nudity than was exhibited by one group of natives whom we saw. The admirable climate, the hot springs, the beautiful gardens, vineyards, and abundant fruits, render this place thoroughly attractive, notwithstanding that so large a portion consists of adobe houses of only one story in height. These are often made inviting by their neat surroundings and by being frescoed in bright colors inside and out. One or two native birds in gayest colors usually hang beside the open doors, in a home-made cage of dried rushes, singing as gayly as those confined in more costly and gilded prisons. Just opposite the public baths was one of these domesticated pets of the mocking-bird species, who was remarkably accomplished. He was never silent, but was constantly and successfully struggling to imitate every peculiar sound which he heard. He broke down, however, ignominiously in his attempts with the tramway fish-horns. They were too much for him. This bird was of soft ash color, with a long, graceful set of tail-feathers, and kept himself in most presentable order, notwithstanding his narrow quarters in a home-made cage. It was in vain that we tried to purchase the creature. Either the Indian woman had not the right to sell him, or she prized the bird too highly to part with him at any price. As we came away from the low adobe cabin, the bird was mewing in imitation of another domestic pet which belonged to the same woman.

Comparatively few humble dwellings have glass in the windows, but nearly all have these openings barred with iron in more or less ornamental styles. There are a few central situations where two-story houses prevail. Besides the churches, there are the governor's palace, the casa municipal, and the stores and dwelling-houses which surround the Plaza Mayor, the latter having open arcades, or portales, beneath the first story. People come from various parts of Mexico to enjoy the baths of Aguas Calientes, and one sees many strangers about the town. The place has, in fact, been the resort of people from various sections of the country from time immemorial, on account of the presumed advantages to be derived from the hot springs. Mineral waters, hot and cold, abound on the table-land of Mexico.

It is said that by digging almost anywhere in this neighborhood, one can exhume pottery and other articles concerning whose manufacture there is a profound mystery, the shapes and style of finish being quite different from what is now produced. These articles are reputed to antedate the Toltec period, though the natives, finding that the antique shapes are most popular with European and American tourists, imitate them very closely. When "antiquities" are offered to one in a foreign country, he should be very wary in purchasing, as the artificial manufacture of them is fully up to the demand. The writer once saw an article sold at Cairo as an antique for ten pounds sterling which was afterwards proved, by an unmistakable mark, to have been made in Birmingham, England. So Aztec and Toltec remains are produced to any extent in the city of Mexico; and the enterprising English manufacturer, we were told, has even invaded Yucatan with his "antique" wares.

Fruit is abundant, cheap, and delicious in the market-place of Aguas Calientes. Fifty oranges were offered to us for a quarter of a dollar, or two for a penny. Sunday is the principal market-day, when the country people for miles around bring in fruit, vegetables, flowers, pottery, and home-woven articles for sale. Men and women, sitting on the ground, patiently wait for hours to make trifling sales, the profit on which cannot exceed a few pennies, and often the poor creatures sell little or nothing. The principal market is a permanent building, occupying a whole block, or square. The area about which it is built is open in the centre; that is, without covering. Here a motley group displayed baskets, fruits, flowers, candies, pulque, boots, shoes, and sandals. White onions mingled with red tomatoes and pineapples formed the apex to a pyramid of oranges, bananas, lemons, pomegranates, all arranged so as to present attractive colors and forms, being often decked with flowers. Green sugar-cane, cut in available lengths, was rapidly consumed by young Mexico, and gay young girls indulged in dulces (sweets). Hundreds of patient donkeys, without harness of any sort, or even a rope about their necks, stood demurely awaiting their hour of service. Beggars are plenty, but few persons were seen really intoxicated, notwithstanding that pulque is cheap and muscal very potent. Red, blue, brown, and striped rebosas flitted before the eyes, worn by the restless crowd, while occasionally one saw a lady of the upper class, attended by her maid in gaudy colors, herself clad in the dark, conventional Spanish style, her black hair, covered with a lace veil of the same hue, held in place by a square-topped shell comb.

The public bathhouse, near the railroad depot, is remarkable for spaciousness and for the excellence of the general arrangements. It is built of a conglomerate of cobble-stones, bricks, and mortar, and might be a bit out of the environs of Rome. In the central open area of these baths is a choice garden full of blooming flowers and tropical trees. Oleanders, fleurs-de-lis, flowering geraniums, peach blossoms, scarlet poppies mingling with white, beside beds of pansies and violets, delighted the eye and filled the air with perfume. The surroundings and conveniences were more Oriental than Mexican, inviting the stranger to bathe by the extraordinary facilities offered to him, and captivating the senses by beauty and fragrance. There is a spacious swimming-bath within the walls, beside the single bathrooms, in both of which the water is kept at a delightful temperature. The luxury of these baths, after a long, dusty ride over Mexican roads, can hardly be imagined by those who have not enjoyed it. In the vicinity of the Plaza Mayor, ice-cream was hawked and sold by itinerant venders. We were told of a mysterious method of producing ice, which is employed here during the night, by means of putting water in the hollowed stalk of the maguey or agave plant, but we do not clearly understand the process. The volatile oil of the century plant is said to evaporate so rapidly as to freeze the water deposited in it. At any rate, the natives have some process by which they produce ice in this tropical clime; but whether it is by aid of the maguey plant, from which comes the pulque, or by some other means, we cannot say authoritatively. In the cities and on the Texan border, ice is largely manufactured by chemical process aided by machinery, a means of supply well known in all countries where natural ice is not formed by continued low temperature.

San Luis Potosi is situated about one hundred miles to the eastward of Aguas Calientes, on the branch road connecting the main trunk of the Mexican Central with Tampico on the Gulf. It is the capital of the State of San Luis Potosi, and has, according to estimate, over forty thousand inhabitants. The city contains many fine buildings, the most notable among them being the state capitol, the business exchange, the state museum, the mint, and the public library. This last-named contains between seventy and eighty thousand volumes. There is here a larger proportion of two-story buildings than is seen in either Saltillo or Monterey. There are also a college, a hospital, and a theatre. It has several plazas and many churches. The cathedral is quite modern, having been erected within the last forty years; it faces the Plaza Mayor, where there is a bronze statue of the patriot Hidalgo. We are here fully six thousand feet above the sea level, in a wholesome locality, which, it is claimed, possesses the most equable climate in Mexico, the temperature never reaching freezing-point, and rarely being uncomfortably warm. There are several fine old churches in San Luis Potosi, containing some admirable oil paintings by Vallejo, Tresguerras, and others of less fame. The city is three hundred and sixty miles north of the national capital, and is destined, with the opening of the railroad to Tampico, which has so recently taken place, to grow rapidly. Its tramway, or horse-car, service is particularly well managed, and facilitates all sorts of transportation in and about the city. In the Sierra near at hand are the famous silver mines known as Cerro del Potosi, which are so rich in the deposit of argentiferous ore that it is named after the mines of Potosi in Peru. There are valuable salt mines existing in this State of San Luis Potosi, at Penon Blanco. The city has always been noted as a military centre, and a large number of the regular army are stationed here. When Santa Anna returned from exile, at the beginning of the war with this country, in 1846, it was here that he concentrated his forces. When defeated by General Taylor at Buena Vista, he marched back to San Luis Potosi with the remnant of his thoroughly demoralized army, where he again established his headquarters. On the Sabbath, as in other Mexican cities, the grand market of the week takes place, when cock-fighting, marketing, praying, and bull-fighting are strangely mixed.

About a hundred miles south of Aguas Calientes we reach the important manufacturing city of Leon, State of Guanajuato, a thrifty, enterprising capital, containing over ninety thousand inhabitants. It is considered the third largest and most important city of the republic. We have now come eight hundred and thirty miles since leaving the International Bridge, by which we entered Mexican territory at Pedras Negras, and find ourselves in the midst of a fertile, well-watered plain, intersected by the small river Turbio, two hundred and sixty miles northwest of the city of Mexico. Rich grazing fields are spread broadcast, many of which exhibit the deep, beautiful green of the alfalfa, or Mexican clover, which is fed in a fresh-cut condition to favored cattle, but not to burros, poor creatures! They feed themselves on what they can pick up by the roadside, on the refuse vegetables thrown away in the city markets, on straw; in short, on almost anything. There is a theory that they will live on empty fruit tins, broken glass bottles, and sardine boxes; but we are not prepared to indorse that. The fields and small domestic gardens hereabouts are often hedged by tall, pole-like cacti of the species called the organ cactus, from its peculiar resemblance to the pipes of an organ. This forms a prevailing picture in the wild landscape of southern Mexico. Leon is nearly six thousand feet above the sea.

As the railroad depot is a mile from the city proper,—a characteristic of transportation facilities which applies to all Mexican capitals,—we reach the plaza of Leon by tramway. The place has all the usual belongings of a Spanish town, though it contains no buildings of special interest. The plaza, the market-place, and the cathedral are each worthy of note. The first-named has a large, refreshing fountain in its centre, whose music cheers the senses when oppressed by tropical heat. The plaza is also shaded by thick clusters of ornamental trees. There was a grand annual fair held here before the days of railroads in Mexico, which was an occasion attracting people from all the commercial centres of the country. While talking to a local merchant he said to us: "Certain circumscribed interests were at first unfavorably affected by the establishment of the railroad, and people grumbled accordingly; but we have come to see that after all it is for the universal good to have this prompt means of transportation. It was the same," he continued, "as regards the tramway; but we could not do without that convenience now."

On one side of the plaza is the governor's palace, a long, plain, two-story building of composite material,—stone, sun-dried bricks, and mortar, colored white. On the other three sides is a line of two-story buildings, beneath which is a continuous block of portales, or arches, crowded with shops and booths; the first story of these houses being thus devoted to trade, the second to dwellings. The general effect of this large business square, with the deep greenery of the plaza in the centre, is extremely attractive. Strolling about it in the intense sunshine are many beggars and grandees; women in bright-colored rebosas; others in rags which do not half cover their nakedness; fair senoritas with tall, red-heeled boots pointed at the toes, and poor girls with bare limbs and feet; cripples and athletes; beauty and deformity; plethoric priests and cadaverous peons. Now a horseman in theatrical costume, sword and pistol by his side, and huge silver spurs on his heels, seated on a small but beautifully formed Andalusian horse, passes swiftly by, and now a score of charcoal-laden donkeys, driven by an Indian larger than the animal he bestrides. All the men who can afford it wear broad-brimmed sombreros richly ornamented with gold and silver braid; the poorest, though otherwise but half clad, and with bare limbs, have a substitute for the sombrero in straw or some cheap material. The broader the brim and the taller the crown, the more they are admired. It is a busy, ever-shifting scene presented by the Plaza Mayor of Leon, such as one may look upon only south of the Rio Grande.

The paseo is a remarkably fine, tree-embowered avenue, a sort of miniature Champs Elysees, flanked by well-cultivated fields and gardens, forming the beginning of the road which leads to Silao. Besides the Plaza Mayor and the paseo, there are a dozen minor plazas (plazuelas) in Leon, all more or less attractive. On the road leading to Lagos, not far from the city, there are hot mineral springs much esteemed and much used for bathing. One can go anywhere in and about Leon by tramway as easily as in Boston or New York. The specialty of the city is its various manufactories of leather goods, but particularly saddles, boots, and shoes, together with leather sandals, such as are worn by the common people who do not go barefooted,—though the fact is nine tenths of them do go barefooted. Another special product of Leon is blue and striped rebosas, so universally worn by the women of the humbler class.

It is a peculiarity in Mexico that a certain branch of manufacture is confined in a great measure to one place, other business localities respecting this partial monopoly by devoting themselves to other productions. Thus the industry of Leon is developed in tanning leather, and the making of boots, shoes, saddlery, and rebosas; Salamanca is noted for its buckskin garments and gloves; Irapuato is devoted to raising strawberries, and supplies half the republic with this delicious fruit; Queretaro is famous for the opals it ships from its unique mines; Lerdo enriches itself by the cotton which it sends to market; Celaya, in the valley of the Laja, is known all over Mexico for the production of fine dulces (sweets, or confectionery) made from milk and sugar; from Puebla come the elegant and profitable onyx ornaments so much prized at home and abroad; Aguas Calientes is famous as an agricultural centre, supplying the markets of the country with corn and beans; from Orizaba and Cordova come coffee, sugar, and delicious tropical fruits; Chihuahua raises horses and cattle for the home market and for exportation; Guadalajara is unrivaled for the production of pottery and crockery ware, Zacatecas and Guanajuato for the mining of silver; and so the list might be extended, showing the native resources of the country and the concentration of special industries.

Many of the dwellings—most of them, indeed—are but one story in height, in the city proper, though often constructed of stone; but in the suburbs they are altogether of one story and built of adobe. Some of the hedges are both striking and effective, consisting of the prickly-pear cactus, which presents an impenetrable barrier to man or beast. The natives prepare a dish of green salad from the tender leaves of the cactus, as we do from dandelions and lettuce, which satisfies a certain appetite, and no doubt contains considerable nourishment. There are several quite ancient churches, a cathedral, and two theatres in Leon. Of the latter, that which attracted us most might have passed for a floral conservatory. It was a stone edifice, with a broad vestibule full of flowers, having a fountain in the centre and a dome covered with glass. The cathedral, under the ascribed patronage of "Our Lady of Light," makes up for its shortcomings in the architecture of its lower portions by a fine dome and two lofty towers, these last of quite modern construction, having been completed so late as 1878. The oldest church in the city is La Soledad, which dates back three hundred and fifty years. Two others, San Juan de Dios and San Felipe Neri, are of more than passing interest to the traveler.

It was observed, in nearly all the dwellings which were entered, that the women as well as the men were engaged with hand-looms, weaving rebosas or serapes. In many instances children were thus employed, of such tender age that it was surprising to see the excellence of the work which they produced. These humble interiors present notable pictures of respectability, industry, and thrift. In the market-place, flowers, mostly beautiful roses of white and red varieties, were sold by the score for a five-cent piece, and lovely bouquets, containing artistic combinations of color and great variety of species, were offered for ten cents each. The plains in the environs of Leon are beautified by some magnificent groves of trees, and exhibit great fertility of soil.

After passing through miles of dreary territory which produced little save an abnormal growth of cacti of several species, exhibiting great variety in shape and the color of its blossoms, which were sometimes white, but oftener red or yellow, twenty miles southeast of Leon and two hundred and thirty-eight north of the national capital, we reach the small city of Silao, in the State of Guanajuato, which has a population of about fifteen thousand. This is an agricultural district, six thousand feet above the level of the sea, where irrigation is absolutely necessary, and where it is freely applied, but by hand power, the water being raised from the ditches by means of buckets. Under this treatment the soil is so fertile as to yield two crops of wheat and maize annually, besides an abundance of other staples. The eyes of the traveler are delighted, on approaching Silao, by the view of far-reaching fields of waving grain, giving full promise of a rich harvest near at hand. We were told that these fields were flooded twice during the growing of a crop: first, early in January, when the young plants are two or three inches high, and again soon after the first of March, just before the ear is about to develop itself. Sometimes, as is done in Egypt, the fields are inundated before sowing. Some of the richest soil for wheat-growing in all Mexico lies between San Juan del Rio and Leon. The idea of a rotation of crops, the advantages of which the intelligent American farmer so well understands, does not seem yet to have dawned upon the Mexican cultivator of the soil. He goes on year after year extracting the same chemicals from the earth, without using fertilizers at all, and planting the same seed in the same fields. By no happy accident does he substitute corn for oats, or wheat for either. He never thinks of giving his grain field a breathing spell by planting it with potatoes or any other root crop, and substituting a different style of cultivation. In and about the town are some large and admirably managed gardens of fruits and flowers. One was hardly prepared, before coming hither, to accord to the Spanish character so much of appreciation and such delicacy of taste as are revealed through the almost universal cultivation of flowers in Mexico, wherever circumstances will admit of it. Silao is just fifteen miles from Guanajuato, the capital of the state, with which it is connected by railway.

The rainfall is comparatively very slight on the entire Mexican plateau, limited, in fact, to two or three months in the year, which renders irrigation a universal necessity to insure success in farming; but the means employed for the purpose, as we have seen, are singularly primitive. The same objection that limited intelligence evinces everywhere to the introduction of labor-saving machinery is exhibited here in Mexico. When the author was at the Lakes of Killarney, a few years since, and saw the hotel employees cutting grass upon the broad lawn with a sickle or reaping-hook, he suggested to the landlord that an American lawn-mower should be used, whereby one man could do the job quicker and in better shape than twenty men could do by this primitive mode. "If I were to introduce an American lawn-mower on to this place," said the landlord, "the laborers would burn my house down at once!" So when the air-brakes were introduced on the National Railroad in Mexico, thus not only adding unquestionably to the safety of the cars, but decreasing the necessity for so many train hands, the laborers cut and destroyed the brakes. Through persistent determination on the part of the officers of the road, the air-brake is now in use by the Mexican Central corporation, from the Rio Grande to the capital; but the National line between the capital and Vera Cruz is not able to make use of this greater safeguard and economical air-brake, because a lot of stupid, ignorant brakemen object!

Silao is of little commercial importance, but it has the over-abundance of churches always to be found in Spanish towns of its size, none of which, in this instance, are any way remarkable. But the place is picturesque and interesting; one would not like to have missed it. The church of Santiago has a tall, graceful, and slender spire, sure to attract an observant eye, recalling the pinnacle of St. Peter and St. Paul in the capital of Russia. We have said Silao is of little commercial importance, but there are six or eight flour-mills, which seem to be the nucleus about which the principal business interests centre. The place was founded more than three centuries ago, and impresses one with an atmosphere of crumbling antiquity which somehow is pretty sure to challenge respect. "Time consecrates," says Schiller, "and what is gray with age becomes religion."

Seeing a number of Indian men and women relieving themselves from heavy burdens brought into the market, we were surprised to note the weight which these trained natives could carry. On inquiry it was found that some of them had come over mountainous roads a distance of twenty miles and more, each bearing upon his or her back a weight in produce of various sorts which must have been near to a hundred and fifty pounds. As profit on all their chickens, eggs, vegetables, pottery, and fruit, they could hardly average more than a dollar to each individual. How simple and circumscribed must be the necessities of a people who can sustain themselves upon such earnings! When on the road, these Indians have a peculiarly rapid gait, a sort of dog-trot, so to speak, which they will keep up for hours at a time while carrying their heavy burdens. Though they all speak Spanish, yet each tribe or section of country seems to have a dialect of its own, which is used exclusively among its people. Scientists tell us that the various languages and dialects spoken by the Indian race of Mexico in the several parts of the republic number over one hundred; there are sixty which are known to have become extinct.

In contradistinction to the theories of many careful observers, scientists have pointed to the fact that in all of these native tongues not one word can be found which gives indication of Asiatic origin.

While at Silao a Mexican sand-spout, a visitant which is very liable to appear on the open plains during the dry season, struck in our immediate vicinity, followed by a fierce dust-storm, which lasted for about an hour, darkening the atmosphere to a night-hue for miles around, and covering every exposed article or person with a thick layer of fine sand. It was necessary promptly to close all doors and windows. Indeed, a person could more easily face a furious hail-storm, than one of these dry gales; men and animals alike sought shelter from its blinding fierceness. So men, horses, and camels, composing the caravans which cross the desert of Sahara, when struck by a sand-storm, are obliged to throw themselves flat upon the ground, and there remain until it has exhausted its fury. The condition of the soil at Silao may be easily imagined when it is remembered that rain had not fallen here for seven months. It was late in March, but the rainy season does not begin until about the last of May. In this region people do not speak of summer and winter, but of the dry and the rainy seasons, the former being reckoned from November to May, and the latter from June to October. It should not be understood that it rains constantly in the wet season. The rain falls generally in pleasant showers, afternoons and nights, leaving the mornings and forenoons bright, clear, and comfortable. It is really the pleasantest season of the year on the Mexican plateau.



CHAPTER VI.

Guanajuato.—An Ex-President.—Richest Silver Mine in Mexico.—Reducing the Ores.—Plenty of Silver.—Open Sewers.—A Venal Priesthood.—A Big Prison.—The Catholic Church.—Getting Rid of a Prisoner.—The Frog-Rock.—Idolaters.—A Strawberry Festival at Irapuato.— Salamanca.—City of Queretaro.—A Fine Old Capital.—Maximilian and His Fate.—A Charming Plaza.—Mammoth Cotton Factory.—The Maguey Plant.—Pulque and Other Stimulants.—Beautiful Opals.—Honey Water. —Ancient Tula.—A Freak of Tropical Weather.

The quaint old city of Guanajuato, capital of the state bearing the same name,—pronounced Wan-a-wato,—is situated nearly a thousand feet higher than Silao, two hundred and fifty miles north of the city of Mexico, and fifteen miles from the main trunk of the Mexican Central Railroad, with which it is connected by a branch road. It contains between fifty and sixty thousand inhabitants, and has been a successful mining centre for over three hundred years. Manuel Gonzales, ex-president of Mexico, is the governor of the state. This man was the Tweed of Mexico, and one of the most venal officials ever trusted by the people. He succeeded, on retiring from the presidency, in taking with him of his ill-gotten wealth several millions of dollars. The astonishing corruption that reigned under his fostering care was notorious. In enriching himself and his ring of adherents, he brought the treasury of the country to the very verge of bankruptcy. It may be mentioned that this State of Guanajuato is the most densely populated in the Mexican republic. It has an area of a trifle over twelve thousand square miles, or it is about the size of Massachusetts and Connecticut united. The town is reached through the suburb of Marfil, along the precipitous sides of whose mountain road large adobe and stone mills are constructed, resembling feudal castles; while beside the roadbed, broken by sharp acclivities, the small, muddy, vile-smelling river Guanajuato flows sluggishly along, bearing silver tailings away from the mills above, and wasting at least twenty-five per cent, of the precious metal contained in the badly manipulated ore. Here and there in the river's bed—the stream being low—scores of natives were seen washing the earth which had been deposited from the mines, working knee-deep in the mud, and striving to make at least day wages, which is here represented by forty cents. Others were producing sun-dried brick out of the clayey substance, after it had been rewashed by the independent miners. This river becomes a torrent in the rainy season, and owing to its situation the town is liable to dangerous inundations, one of which occurred so late as 1885, causing great loss of life and property. Creeping slowly upward over the rough road, an abrupt corner of the gulch was finally turned, and we suddenly found ourself in the centre of the active little city, so compactly built that business seemed to be overflowing its proper limits and utterly blocking the narrow streets. The provision and fruit market was trespassing on every available passageway. Curbstone and sidewalk were unhesitatingly monopolized by the market people with their wares spread out for sale. In Guanajuato is found the richest vein of silver-bearing ore in the country, known as the Veta Madre, and though the most primitive modes of mining and milling have always been and still are pursued here, over eight hundred million dollars in the argentiferous metal have been realized from this immediate vicinity since official record has been kept of the amount; and with all this Mexico is still poor!

The ore has now to be raised from a depth of fifteen hundred feet and more. There are between fifty and sixty crushing mills in operation at this writing, reducing the silver-bearing quartz. Two of the mills are operated by Europeans, who use steam power to some extent, but the scarcity of fuel is a serious objection to the employment of steam. We saw scores of mules treading the liquid, muddy mass for amalgamating purposes, driven about in a circle by men who waded knee-deep while following the weary animals. As these huge vats contain quicksilver, vitriol, and other poisonous ingredients, the lives of men and animals thus occupied are of brief duration. The mules live about four years, and the men rarely twice as long if they continue in the business. This result is well known to be inevitable, and yet there are plenty of men who eagerly seek the employment.

Without going into detail we may describe the process of obtaining the silver from the rocky mass in a few words. The ore is first crushed, and by adding water is made into a thin paste. Many tons of this are placed in a huge vat, at least a hundred feet square, and into it are thrown, in certain quantities, sulphate of copper, common salt, and quicksilver. Driving the animals through this mass, ten hours a day for three or four days, causes the various ingredients to become thoroughly mingled. The quicksilver finally gets hold of and concentrates the coveted metal. The quicksilver is afterwards extracted and reserved for continued use, performing the same function over and over again. There is, of course, a large percentage of quicksilver lost in the operation, and its employment in such quantities forms one of the heavy expenses of milling.

The mills are semi-fortresses, having often been compelled to resist the attacks of banditti, who have ever been ready to organize a descent upon any place where portable treasure is accumulated. We were told, on good authority, that every ton of raw material handled here yields on an average thirty-three dollars. This figure our informant qualified by the remark that it was the average under ordinary circumstances. Sometimes the miners strike what is called a bonanza, and for a while ore is raised from the bowels of the earth which will produce five times this amount to the ton; but after a short time the yield will return to its normal condition. Occasionally, but this is rare, nuggets of pure or nearly pure silver are found weighing from fifteen to twenty pounds each. The process of milling here is slow, tedious, and wasteful. The scientific knowledge brought to bear upon the business in the United States is not heeded in Mexico, and yet these people obtain remarkably favorable results. The fact is, the precious metal is so very abundant, and the profits so satisfactory, that the managers and owners grow careless, having little incentive to spur them on to adopt more economical and productive methods. An intelligent overseer of a mine at Guanajuato said to us in reply to a question relating to the usual process of milling in Mexico: "We get probably sixty per cent. of the silver contained in the raw ore which we handle, and that is about all we can expect." On being asked if the men whom we saw working in the open bed of the river, far below the mills, did not obtain good results, the superintendent replied, "They succeed best in getting part of the quicksilver which has been carried away in the process, which they sell to us again." These men, we observed, worked mostly with shovels and earthen pans, or with their hands and a flat, shingle-like piece of wood.

Guanajuato is built on the sides of a deep, broad gorge, surrounded by rolling hills, the ravine, the mouth of which commences at Marfil, being terraced on either side to make room for adobe dwellings. Here and there a patch of green is to be seen, a graceful pepper tree, an orange, or stately cypress relieving the cheerless, arid scene. The narrow, irregular streets are roughly paved; but the clouds of dust which one encounters in the dry season are almost suffocating. Now and then a few potted flowers in front of a low cabin, a bird cage with its chirping occupant, a noisy parrot on an exposed perch, a dozing cat before the door, all afford glimpses of domesticity; but, on the whole, this mining town, rich in native silver, gave us in its humbler portions the impression of being mostly composed of people half clothed and seemingly but half fed.

The city has an alameda and a plaza. The latter, in the centre of the town, is decorated with bright-colored flowers, tall palm trees, and has a music pagoda in its centre. This plaza has an elevation of over six thousand eight hundred feet above the level of the sea. What a queer old city it is, with its steep, narrow, twisted streets! It might be a bit abstracted from Moorish Tangier, or from the narrow thoroughfares of Granada, close by the banks of the turbulent Darro.

The occupation of three fourths of the people is naturally connected with the mines, and it may be said to be an industrious community. The pulque shops are many, far too many; but there was no intoxication noticed on the streets. The open sewers render the death rate unusually high in Guanajuato, where typhoid fever and pneumonia were particularly prevalent during our visit. Indeed, the place is notoriously unhealthy. There are many excellent oil paintings hung in the churches and chapels, representing, of course, scriptural subjects, including one of the much-abused St. Sebastian. There are two or three primary and advanced schools supported by the municipality; but these, we were told, were bitterly opposed by the priests. We speak often and earnestly concerning the malign influence of the priesthood, because no one can travel in Mexico without having the fact constantly forced upon him, at every turn, that its members and their church are, and have been for nearly four centuries, the visible curse of the country. The most interesting of the many churches is the Compania, which has a choice group of bells in its cupola, and an unusually excellent collection of paintings, among them a series illustrating the life of the Virgin, by an unknown artist, besides two fine canvases by Cabrera. But one grows fastidious in visiting so many of these churches as he approaches the capital, and becomes satisfied with examining the cathedral in each new city. The whole country is strewn with these costly and comparatively useless temples, many of which are gradually crumbling to dust, and nearly all of which are dirty beyond description. Immediately after the Spanish conquest a rage possessed the victors to build churches, without regard to the necessary population for their support, perhaps hoping thereby to propitiate heaven for their rapaciousness and outrageous oppression of the native race. The criminal extortion exercised by the priesthood and their followers forms a dark blot upon the escutcheon of both the church and the state. O Christianity, as Madame Roland said of Liberty, "what atrocities have been committed in thy name!"

Charles Lempriere, D. C. L., an able writer upon Mexico, says: "The Mexican church, as a church, fills no mission of virtue, no mission of morality, no mission of mercy, no mission of charity. Virtue cannot exist in its pestiferous atmosphere. The cause of morality does not come within its practice. It knows no mercy, and no emotion of charity ever nerves the stony heart of the priesthood, which, with an avarice that knows no limit, filches the last penny from the diseased and dying beggar, plunders the widow and orphans of their substance as well as their virtue, and casts such a horoscope of horrors around the deathbed of the dying millionaire, that the poor, superstitious wretch is glad to purchase a chance for the safety of his soul in making the church the heir of his treasures."

Many of the better class of houses in the upper portion of Guanajuato, some of which are extremely attractive, are built from a peculiar sandstone quarried in the neighborhood, which is of many colors, giving the fronts an odd, but not unpleasant appearance. The balconies of these dwellings are rendered lovely by a great variety of creeping vines and flowers in blossom. Among these the honeysuckle prevailed, often shading pleasant family groups, and forming tableaux in strong contrast with the more humble and populous portions of the town. In this part of the city, where the gorge widens, a large reservoir has been constructed which gets its supply of water from the mountain streams, and affords the necessary article in the dry season. Along either side of these reservoirs, for there is a succession of them, are situated the pleasantest residences. These are so charmingly adapted to the locality, and depart so far from the conventional Mexican style, as to cause one to think some American or English architect had been exercising his skill and taste in the neighborhood. They recalled some of the lovely villas one sees near Sorrento and along the shores of the Bay of Amalfi, in southern Italy.

The spacious and ancient structure known as the Alhondiga de Granaditas, situated on elevated ground, dominates the whole city. It was erected a century and more ago, and designed for a commercial exchange, but it has since been greatly altered, and served as a fortification in the civil wars. It is to-day occupied for the purposes of a prison, where convicts are judiciously taught various mechanical trades. The view from the summit of this rude old building takes in the town, the long, narrow gulch, the gray and rugged hills which reach upward towards the deep blue sky, dotted here and there by the yellow dome of some ancient church, and an occasional cypress or graceful palm striving to redeem the surrounding barrenness. In the prison yard, where the convicts seem to be permitted to roam at their own pleasure, hens, chickens, and turkeys were seen dodging in and out among the feet of the prisoners, with whom they were apparently on the best of terms.

One could not but think that a large number of these prisoners were probably better off as to creature comforts than when at liberty and following their own behests. They eat, sleep, and work together at light occupations, and no attempt is made to keep them from communicating with each other. They have good air, light, and better food on the average than they have been accustomed to when providing for themselves, and they are allowed to keep a part of their own earnings. They are permitted good bathing facilities, and to play checkers or any other small games during their off hours, as they term the portions of the day in which discipline requires no regular service of them. We became interested in the case of an intelligent American who was held as a prisoner here. He had been confined for nearly two years without a trial, for which he was earnestly begging. The charge against him was that he had been connected with some Mexicans in the robbery of a railroad train, but of which he declared himself entirely innocent. Whether innocent or guilty, he was entitled to a fair trial. Our party took the matter in hand, supplied the man with proper pecuniary means, interested our local consul in his behalf, and brought the matter to the attention of the American minister to Mexico, finally obtaining assurance that justice should be obtained for the prisoner.

Though these places of confinement are conducted with apparent looseness, still the escape of an inmate rarely takes place unless it is connived at by the officials. The bullet is very swift in Mexico, as already instanced, and a man who attempts to escape from legal restraint is instantly shot without the least hesitation on the part of the guard, no matter for what he may be confined, even though held only for a witness. In well-authenticated cases, where it was considered desirable to get rid of an inmate without the form of a trial, which perhaps might compromise some favored individual, opportunity was afforded the prisoner to escape; the temptation was too strong, he could not resist it; but scarcely had he broken the bounds before the fatal lead laid him low in death. The place was pointed out to us on these prison walls where the head of the Indian patriot Hidalgo was exposed upon a spear point by the Spanish governor of the place, until it crumbled to dust by the action of the elements.

Quite a pretentious theatre of stone is in course of erection just opposite the little Plaza de Mejia Mora. The dozen large stone pillars of the facade were already in place, and there are other evidences that when finished it will be a spacious and elegant structure. We say when finished, but that will not be this year, or next, probably; building, like everything else in this country, is slow of progress. The significant Spanish word manana is on everybody's lips, and expresses a ruling principle, nothing being done to-day which can possibly be put off until to-morrow.

The somewhat singular name of the city is from guanashuato, an Indian word in the Tarrascan tongue, which signifies "hill of the frogs," a name given to the place by the aborigines because of a huge rocky mound which resembles a frog, and forms a prominent object in the immediate environs. With their idolatrous instinct the early natives made this peculiar rock an object of worship, and, it is said, offered human sacrifices at its base. No doubt these tribes were sincere, and positive in proportion to their ignorance,—the idol is but the type of the worshiper's intelligence. In visiting the Temple of Hanan, at Canton, we find to-day, a number of "sacred" hogs wallowing in dirt. The Parsee still worships fire; the uneducated Japanese bows before snakes and foxes; the Hindoo deifies cows and monkeys. Why should we wonder, then, that the Toltecs worshiped idols a thousand years ago?

While looking upon the strange stone images, large and small, in the museum of the national capital, which the ancient people who possessed this land erected and worshiped, one cannot avoid forming a very low estimate of such a race. Their deities were not only hideous, but were made in the crudest possible manner, without one correct line of anatomy or physiognomy, and represented utterly impossible beings in equally impossible attitudes. They are, however, of growing interest, and invaluable as mementoes of a vanished race.

After returning to Silao, we resume our journey southward on the main line of the Mexican Central Railroad, crossing the State of Guanajuato through a fertile and well-cultivated region, in strong contrast to much of the country left behind. At Irapuato, an unimportant, dingy, dilapidated little town, nineteen miles from Silao, is the junction of the trunk line and a branch road to Guadalajara, which city we shall visit on our return trip northward. Irapuato is pleasantly remembered by all travelers in Mexico, being noted for the fact that fresh ripe strawberries are sold on the railway trains by the inhabitants every day in the year. Strangers never pass this point without enjoying a strawberry picnic, as it may be called, every one purchasing more or less. Even the train-hands would rebel were they not permitted to tarry long enough to enjoy the one luxury of the place. The delicious berries are supplied by native men and women with wild-looking, swarthy faces, who hand them to the travelers in neat, plain baskets which hold nearly two quarts each. Basket and strawberries together are sold for twenty-five cents. The top layer of the fruit is carefully selected, and most tempting to look upon, the berries being shrewdly "deaconed,"—a fact of which the purchaser becomes aware when he has consumed the first portion. However, all are eatable and most grateful to the taste. Human nature is very much the same in trade, whether exhibited in Faneuil Hall Market, Boston, or at Irapuato in Mexico. The deaconing process is not unknown in Massachusetts. Nice, marketable strawberries could be forwarded from Irapuato to Chicago and all intermediate cities, so as to be sold in our markets in good condition every day in the year, by means of the present complete railway connections. The industry of producing them would be stimulated by an organized effort to its best performance, and all concerned would be benefited.

About a dozen miles beyond the junction, we arrive at Salamanca, a small but thriving city. Here, in the Church of San Augustin, are some elaborate wooden altars of such beautiful workmanship as to have a national reputation. These carvings are by native workmen, and evince an artistic taste and facility which one would hardly expect to find among a people so uncultured as the laboring class of Mexico. There is genius enough lying dormant in the country; it only lacks development. The principal industry of the town is the manufacture of buckskin garments and gloves. Twenty miles further southward is the thriving city of Celaya, in the charming valley of the Laja, with about twenty thousand population. The town is situated nearly two miles from the river, in the State of Guanajuato, and contains extensive cotton and woolen mills, with the usual abundance of Roman Catholic churches. There are quite a number of buildings in Celaya, both public and private, which evince notable architectural beauty. These were erected after the design of a local Michael Angelo,—a native architect, sculptor, and painter named Tresguerras. Finally we arrive at Queretaro (pronounced Ka-ret-a-ro), the capital of the state of the same name, situated a little over one hundred and fifty miles northwest of the city of Mexico, and having a population of about fifty thousand. This is generally admitted to be the most attractive city, in its general effect upon the stranger, of any in the republic outside of the valley of Mexico, though we unhesitatingly place Puebla before it. It was here, in 1848, that the Mexican Congress ratified the treaty of peace with the United States. Perhaps some of the readers of these pages will remember with what distinguished honors Mr. Seward was received in this city during his visit to Mexico in 1869.

Queretaro was founded by the Aztecs about four hundred years ago, and was captured by the Spaniards in 1531. It contains numerous fine stone buildings, mostly of a religious character, and has some very spacious public squares. A grand stone aqueduct over five miles long brings a bountiful supply of good water from the neighboring mountains. The lofty, substantial masonry of the aqueduct reminds one of similar works which cross the Campagna at Rome, and those in the environs of Cairo. This work must have been originally a tremendous undertaking, many of the arches, where ravines and natural undulations are crossed, being nearly a hundred feet in height. The cost of the aqueduct is said to have been borne by a single individual, to whose memory the citizens have erected a statue on one of the plazas. The water-supply thus brought into the town feeds a dozen or more large, bright, crystal fountains in different sections, around which picturesque groups of water-carriers of both sexes are constantly seen filling their jars for domestic uses. To an American eye there is a sort of Rip-Van-Winkle look about the grass-grown streets of Queretaro. We are here some six thousand feet above the sea, but the place enjoys a most equable and temperate climate. It was in the suburbs of this city that Maximilian and his two trusted generals, Mejia and Miramon, the latter ex-president of the republic, were shot by order of a Mexican court-martial, notwithstanding the appeal for mercy in their behalf by more than one European power, in which the United States government also joined. The Princess Salm-Salm rode across country on horseback a distance of over one hundred miles, to implore Juarez to spare the life of Maximilian; but it was in vain. Juarez was obliged to look at the matter in a political light, whatever his own inclination towards clemency may have been, and therefore refused to annul the sentence of death. Putting all sentimentality aside, it seems to the author that Maximilian justly merited the fate which he so systematically provoked. The measure which he meted to others was in turn accorded to himself. He issued a decree that every officer taken in arms against his self-assumed authority should be promptly shot without trial. This is considered admissible in the case of professed highwaymen and banditti, but such an order issued against a large body of organized natives who sincerely believed themselves fighting for national liberty was unprecedented and uncalled for. This order was enforced in the instance of some noted patriot leaders. The Mexican generals Arteaga and Salazar, with Villagomez and Felix Diaz, who were ignorant of the existence of any such order or determination, were all shot at Uruapam, October 21, 1865. When Maximilian was himself taken prisoner, the like summary punishment became his just award. In the state legislative palace of Queretaro we were shown the table on which the death sentence was signed by the members of the court-martial, the coffin in which Maximilian's body was brought from the place of execution, and a fine oil painting representing the late would-be emperor.

All strangers who visit the city are taken out to the grounds where the execution took place. One naturally regards the spot with considerable interest. It is marked by three rude stones within an iron-railed inclosure, each stone bearing the name of one of the victims, in the order in which they stood before the firing party on the Cerro de los Campanas, two miles from the city proper. It seemed serene and peaceful enough as we looked upon the locality, surrounded by highly cultivated fields, dotted here and there by sheep and cattle quietly grazing in the calm, genial sunshine.

The whole of the Archduke's Mexican purpose and career was a great and absurd political blunder. Personally he was a pure and honest man, though a very weak one. He never possessed mental power equal to that of his wife, who won from the Mexicans unbounded and deserved praise by her devotion to her husband and to the public good. Carlotta freely expended her private fortune for the relief of the poor of the national capital, and in the founding of a much needed and grand free hospital for women. When Maximilian received notice that Napoleon III. was about to desert him and his cause, he was absolutely discouraged, and would have resigned at once and returned to Europe; but his courageous wife dissuaded him. She started the very next day for Vera Cruz, on her way to induce the French emperor to keep his word and hold sacred the treaty of Miramar. In vain did she plead with Napoleon, being only insulted for her trouble; nor was she received much better by the Pope, Pius IX. Disappointment met her everywhere. The physical and mental strain proved too much for Carlotta. Brain fever ensued, and upon her partial recovery it was found that she was bereft of reason. More than twenty years have passed since the faithful wife was thus stricken, nor has reason yet dawned upon her benighted brain.

After three years of ceaseless struggle, Maximilian had grown desperately weary, in a vain effort to reconcile the various political factions of the country, so that to one in his condition of broken health and disappointment, death must have been a relief from mental and physical suffering. His body rests at last in the burial place of the Hapsburgs, thousands of miles from the spot where he fell, while those of Mejia and Miramon lie in the Campo Santo of San Fernando in the city of Mexico. The broad view from this "Hill of the Bells" is very beautiful, and it lives vividly in the memory, taking in the green valley in every direction, spread with fields of undulating grain ready for the reapers, ornamented with umbrageous trees, the city with its mass of towers, domes, and stone dwellings forming the background. A score of ancient churches, convents, and chapels may be counted from the hill-top. The alameda lies on one side of the town, consisting of some fifty or sixty acres nearly square, about which a broad driveway is arranged, the whole charmingly laid out, with greensward and noble shade trees. The Church of the Cross is on slightly elevated ground, and forms a conspicuous architectural feature in the general view. It was in this structure that Maximilian made his headquarters, which he partially fortified, and where, after a protracted siege, he was betrayed into the hands of his enemies; from this place he marched to execution on the 19th of June, 1867.

The Plaza Mayor of Queretaro is a beauty and a joy forever, with its musical fountain uttering ceaseless and refreshing notes, its tropical verdure, its tufted palms and flowering shrubs, its fruitful banana trees, pomegranates, and fragrant roses. Here Maximilian was accustomed to pass an hour daily, and here, we were told, he took his evening recreation, his favorite seat being upon the curbstone of the capacious fountain. The besiegers discovered the fact, directing shot and shell accordingly at this special point, and though the emperor was unharmed by the missiles, a monumental statue situated within a few feet of him was shattered to pieces. In the sunny afternoons the pretty senoritas come to the plaza with their heads and necks lightly shrouded in Spanish veils, and otherwise clothed in diaphanous garments, short enough to show their shapely ankles in white hose, and their small feet in high-heeled, pointed slippers. He must be indeed calloused who can withstand, unmoved, the battery of their witching eyes.

There is a large cotton factory about two miles from the city, known as "The Hercules Mills," having over twenty thousand spindles, and nearly a thousand looms. The machinery was imported from this country. A colossal marble statue of Hercules is seen presiding over one of the large fountains, in the midst of ornamental trees and flowers. This statue cost fourteen thousand dollars before it left Italy. The mill gives employment to some twelve or fourteen hundred natives, mostly women and girls. One of the young sons of the house of Rubio, the family name of those who own this property, went to England years ago, and learned the trade of cotton spinning. This industry as now carried on was established by him, and is still conducted by the same manager, Don Cayetano Rubio. The excellent system of the establishment would do credit to a Lowell or Lawrence factory; indeed, almost any similar establishment might take a favorable lesson from this at Queretaro. The immediate surroundings form a well-arranged and fragrant flower garden, ornamented with fountains and statuary, with fruit trees, where the employees are all welcome, and the sweet fragrance of which they can enjoy even during the working hours. Wages, to be sure, are insignificant, being only about forty cents a day for each competent operative, and the hours are long, twelve out of each twenty-four being devoted to work; but as wages go in Mexico this is considered to be a fair rate, with which all are content. We were told that a portion of the cotton used in the mill comes from Vera Cruz, that is, the short staple; the long comes mostly from the Pacific coast; while fully half of the raw material is imported from the United States. The fibre of the Mexican cotton is longer, and not so soft as the American product; but the cotton raised in some parts of the republic has this remarkable property, that for several consecutive seasons the plant continues to bear profitable crops, while in our Southern States the soil must not only be fertilized, but the seed must also be renewed annually. The cotton plant is indigenous to Mexico, and is more prolific in its yield than it is with our Southern planters. It is the same with cotton as with wool; though quite able to do so, Mexico does not at present grow enough of either staple to supply her own mills, or produce enough of the manufactured article to furnish the home market. Both water and steam power are employed as motors in the Hercules Mill. The overshot wheel used in the former connection is a monster in size, being forty-six feet in diameter. Such has heretofore been the disturbed condition of the country that it has been found necessary to organize and maintain a regular company of soldiers, with ample barracks inside the walls, to defend the property of the mill; and it has three times repulsed formidable attacks made upon the well-fortified walls and gates which surround it.