and the population was supposed, by many, to be in that dissatisfied condition which would make it readily available for carrying out a pronunciamento, by any ambitious and unscrupulous chief who has the money or influence to fairly start it.
Right before us, standing out bold and clear, and sharp in all its outlines, against the sunlit sky of Mexico, white and cold and peerlessly beautiful, stood the monarch of the land of the Aztecs—Orizaba. I have looked at the picture in wonder and delight for hours, but yet can find no words with which to describe the scene, and the emotions which follow the realization of the dream of a life-time.
Twenty-one miles from Puebla, after passing the iron smelting works, we stopped a moment at the old Indian town of Santa Anna, the station at which passengers disembark for the old city of Tlaxcala, and then went on with accelerated speed over the descending grade to Puebla.
We entered this old city of wealth, fashion, bigotry and revolutions, at 5 o'clock p. m., and the Governor and suite having met and congratulated Mr. Seward, the party went directly to the palace of the Bishop of Puebla, a structure almost as solid and massive as the pyramids, covering an entire block or square, and superbly furnished and decorated with gems of art. Each room is a house in itself, so grand are its proportions, and the palace is, altogether, equal to a small town. It faces the great cathedral of Puebla, the largest and richest religious edifice on the American continent, infinitely superior to even the great cathedral of Mexico, and, in fact, one of the wonders of the world.
After dinner I went out with some friends to walk