wilders us as when we first arrived from a country where, at that season, all nature lies buried in snow. Besides, in our last journey through Michoacan, we have passed among scenes even more striking and beautiful than these. Then the dresses, which at first appeared so romantic; the high, Moorish-looking saddle, the gold-embroidered manga, the large hat, shading the swarthy faces of the men, the colored petticoat and rebozo and long black hair of the women, though still picturesque, have no longer the charm of novelty, and do not attract our attention. The winter also has been unusually severe for Mexico, and some slight frosts have caused the flowers of this natural garden to fade. And besides all this, we were tired and sleepy and jolted, and knew that we had but an hour or two to remain, and had another day and night of purgatory in prospect. . . .
Still, as we passed along the shady lanes, amongst the dark chirimoyas, the green-leaved bananas, and all the variety of beautiful trees, entwined with their graceful creepers, we were forced to confess that winter has little power over these fertile regions, and that in spite of the leveler, Habit, such a landscape can never be passed through with indifference.
Arrived at Jalapa, we refreshed ourselves with the luxury of a bath, having to pass through half the city before we reached the bathing establishment, from which there is the most beautiful view of wood, water and mountain that it is possible to behold. The baths are the property of a lady who has a cotton factory and a good house in the city; and fortunate she is in possessing a sufficient portion of worldly
