care of bed-rooms, while in the smaller towns one meets with chambermaids.
Hotels are not so abundant in Mexico as in the United States, and the accommodations of the former are much inferior to those of the latter. The natives are not much given to traveling, owing to the difficulty and expense of making long journeys. When visiting a strange town they usually stay at the house of a friend. There are cities of 15,000 inhabitants, remote from the regular lines of travel, where no inn is to be found. The General Diligence Company controls a great many taverns throughout the central portions of the country. Mexican hotels are of two classes—those for tourists, and those for both persons and live-stock, such as horses or horned cattle. The latter are called mesones and posadas.
Bath-rooms are rarely found in hotels. There are, however, excellent bath-houses in the principal cities, which are often within two or three minutes' walk of the principal hotels.[1]
English is rarely spoken at the inns, but French is generally known at the larger hotels and restaurants. Many of the proprietors are Spaniards or Frenchmen; and there is a great opening for Americans in this branch of business.
The modern conveniences, such as hot-air furnaces, water-pipes and set bowls, electric bells, and gas, are almost unknown. It is said that there is not a single fireplace in any building in Mexico.[2] The natives believe that the artificial heating of rooms in the rarefied air of the table-land is prejudicial to health. Public parlors are very rarely found in the hotels.
The charge at first-class houses throughout the country is from $2 to $2.50 per day. In the capital the rates are a
