interesting you; for I am afraid you will almost be tired of this revolutionary letter. As a clever Mexican, the Marquis of , says—"some years ago we gave forth cries, (gritos)—that was in the infancy of our independence—now we begin to pronounce (pronunciarnos.) Heaven knows when we shall be old enough to speak plain, so that people may know what we mean! "
Sunday Evening.—Monsieur de has arrived, and is not worse. We have unexpectedly had twelve persons to dinner to-day. The news to-night is, that the government troops have arrived, and that a great attack will be made by them to-morrow on the rebels in the palace, which will probably bring matters to a conclusion. Some of our guests are sitting up, and others lying down on sofas without undressing. I prefer being comfortable, so good-night.
20th.—We were astonished this morning at the general tranquillity, and concluded that, instead of having attacked the rebels, the government was holding a parley with them, but a note from the English Minister informs us that a skirmish has taken place between the two parties at one of the gates of the city, in which the government party has triumphed. So far the news is good.
Our street has a most picturesque and lively appearance this morning. It is crowded with Indians from the country, bringing in their fruit and vegetables for sale, and establishing a temporary market in front of the church of San Fernando. Innumerable carriages, drawn by mules, are passing along, packed inside and out, full of families hurrying to the coun-
