which we have been heretofore familiar. But Nature is never over-lavish, and the number of these splendid creatures is as few as their perfections are many. Remembering the streets at home after the Friday-afternoon rehearsal, filled with the fragile, flowerlike bloom of winsome but delicate girlhood, its brave eyes looking the world full in the face with that mixture of innocence and boldness which is the hybrid blossom of modern civilization, these shy but rich specimens, as rare as they are wonderful, look few indeed. Their perfection is offset by an equally pronounced ugliness on the part of the many; and young womanhood changes into faded middle age even sooner than with us, — which is saying a great deal. Nevertheless, the graceful lace mantilla, which is yet almost universally worn in the street, but which unfortunately is beginning to give way among the better classes to the ugly stiffness of the French hat and bonnet, gives to many a plain face such a soft and effective background that one brings back from a walk only a piquant and pleasing impression. If the Mexican women knew what they were about, they would cling to this becoming head-dress as they do to
