LETTER THE TENTH.

San Fernando - House of Perez de Galvez - A removal-Size of the Houses-Old Monastery - View by Sunset - Evening Visits Mexican Etiquette A Night-view from the Azotea Tacubaya-Magueys· Making of Pulque · - Organos and Nopal - Environs of Mexico - Miracle- Hacienda - View from the Countess C-a's House - Arzobispado - Anecdote - Comparative view of Beauty — Indians — Rancheritas · Mexican Cordiality — Masses for the Dead-San Augustin Form of Invitation - Death of a Senator- A Mistake.

SAN FERNANDO, 25th February.

We have been engaged for some time past in the disagreeable occupations, first of finding, then of furnishing, and lastly of entering into a new house. We were very anxious to hire that of the Marquesa de Juluapa, which is pretty, well situated, and has a garden; but the agent, after making us wait for his decision more than a fortnight, informed us that he had determined to sell it. House-rent is extremely high; nothing tolerable to be had under two thousand five hundred dollars per annum, unfurnished. There is also an extraordinary custom of paying a sum called traspaso, sometimes to the amount of fourteen thousand dollars, taking your chance of having the money repaid you by the next person who takes the house. We next endeavored to procure a house not far from our present residence, a palace in fact, which I mentioned to you before as having been occupied at one

time by Santa Anna, and at another by the English Legation, but the present proprietor cannot be prevailed upon to let it. It has a beautiful garden and olive ground, but is not a very secure abode, except with a guard of soldiers. We at length came to the determination of taking up our quarters here. It is a handsome new house, built by General G-, and has the fault of being only too large. Built in a square, like all Mexican houses, the ground floor, which has a stone-paved court, with a fountain in the middle, contains about twenty rooms, besides outhouses, coach-house, stables, pigeon-house, gardenhouse, &c. The second story, where the principal apartments are, the first floor being chiefly occupied by servants, has the same number of rooms, with coal-room, wood-room, bath-room, and water everywhere, in the court below, in the garden, and on the azotea, which is very spacious, and where, were the house our own, we might build a mirador, and otherwise ornament it; but to build for another is too heroic. The great defect in all these houses is their want of finish; the great doors that will not shut properly, and the great windows down to the ground, which in the rainy season will certainly admit water ; making these residences appear something like a cross-breed between a palace and a barn; the splendor of the one, the discomfort of the other. I will not inflict upon you the details of all our petty annoyances caused by procrastinating tradesmen. Suffice it to say, that the Mexican mañana (to-morrow) if properly translated, means never. As to prices, I conclude we pay for being foreigners and diplomates,

and will not believe in a first experience. However, we are settled at last, and find the air here much purer than in the heart of the city, while the maladies and epidemics so common there, are here almost unknown. Behind this house is a very small garden, bounded on one side by the great wall which encloses the orchard of the old monastery of San Fernando; within whose vast precincts only seven or eight monks now linger. It is an immense building, old and gray and time-worn, with church adjoining, and spacious lands appertaining to it. At all times it is picturesque, but by moonlight or sunset, it forms a most olden-time vision.

At that hour, standing alone in the high-walled garden, when the convent bells are tolling, and the convent itself, with its iron-barred, gothic windows, and its gray-green olive trees that look so unreal and lifeless, is tinged by the last rays of the sun, the whole seems like a vision, or a half-remembered sketch, or a memory of romance.

Then the sun sets behind the snow-crowned mountains with a bright fiery red, covering their majestic sides with a rosy glow, while great black clouds come sailing along like the wings of night; and then is the hour for remembering that this is Mexico, and in spite of all the evils that have fallen over it, the memory of the romantic past hovers there still. But the dark clouds sail on, and envelop the crimson tints yet lingering and blushing on the lofty mountains, and like monstrous night-birds brood there in silent watch, and gradually the whole landscape; -mountains and sky, convent and olive trees, look gray

and sad, and seem to melt away in the dim twilight.

Then the bright moon rises, and flings her silver veil over the mountains, and lights up the plains, glittering and quivering upon the old gray stones, and a sound of military music is heard in the distance, far and faint. And all the bells are tolling; from old San Fernando that repeats himself like a sexagenarian; from the towers of the cathedral, from many a distant church and convent; and above the rumbling of carriages and the hum of the city, are heard the notes of a hymn, now rising, now falling on the ear, as a religious procession passes along to some neighboring temple. But it grows late—a carriage enters the court-yard-a visit. There is no romance here. Men and women are the same everywhere, whether enveloped in the graceful mantilla, or wearing Herbault's last, whether wrapt in Spanish cloak, or Mexican sarape, or Scottish plaid. The manners of the ladies here are extremely kind, but Spanish etiquette and compliments are beyond measure tiresome. After having embraced each lady who enters, according to the fashion, which after all seems cordial to say the least of it, and seated the lady of most consequence on the right side of the sofa, a point of great importance, the following dialogue is de rigueur. "How are you? Are you "Without "I am

well?" "At your service, and you?"

novelty, (sin novedad) at your service." rejoiced, and how are you, Señora?" "At your disposal, and you?" "A thousand thanks, and the "At your service, without novelty," &c.,

Señor ?"

&c., &c., besides, before sitting down, there is "Pray be seated." "Pass first, Señorita." "No, madam,

pray pass first." Vaya, well, to oblige you, without further ceremony; I dislike compliments and etiquette." And it is a fact that there is no real etiquette, but the most perfect laissez aller in the world. All these are mere words, tokens of good will. If it is in the morning, there is the additional question of "How have you passed the night?" And the answer, your service." Even in Mexico, the weather affords a legitimate opening for a conversational battery, but this chiefly when it rains or looks dull, which, occasioning surprise, gives rise to observation. Besides, a slight change in the degree of heat or cold which we would not observe, they comment upon.

"In

The visit over, the ladies reëmbrace, the lady of the house following her guests to the top of the staircase, and again compliments are given and received. "Madam, you know that my house is at your disposal." "A thousand thanks, madam. Mine is at your's, and though useless, know me for your servant, and command me in everything that you may desire." "Adieu, I hope you may pass a good night," &c. &c. &c. At the bottom of the first landing-place, the visiters again turn round to catch the eye of the lady of the house, and the adieus are repeated. All this, which struck me at first, already appears quite natural, and would scarce be worth mentioning, but as affording a contrast to our slight and indifferent manner of receiving and taking leave of our guests. All the ladies address each other,