the other six months showers occur almost daily. It is never hot—never very cool, and you may wear your cloak or your summer dress the whole year according to the temper of your nervous system. One side of the street is always too warm at noon. Cold and sleeting as it is here in January, the roses are already blooming freshly in the gardens of Mexico. Nor is there perceptible change of foliage on the forest trees; the new leaves push off the old ones with a "gentle force," and the regeneration of the seasons is effected without the process of fading, wilting, withering and dying, which makes with us the melancholy days of autumn "the saddest of the year."
To look at the external world, you would say there was no such thing as death in Mexico. The rose and the leaf you admire to-day, are replaced to-morrow, by fresh buds and renewed verdure.
