the Alameda—a quiet and retired garden walk to which the cavaliers and donzellas repair before sunset, for a drive in view of the volcanos of Istazihuatl and Popocatepetl, which bound the westward prospect with their tops of eternal snow. Near the centre of the city is the great square. It is surrounded on two sides by edifices erected on arches through which the population circulates as at Bologna. On the northern side is the Palace of the Governor, now filled with troops; and directly in front of this is the Cathedral, equal perhaps in size to that of Mexico, but, being elevated upon a platform about ten feet above the level of the square, it is better relieved and stands out from the surrounding buildings with more boldness and grandeur.
This church is, in all its details and arrangements the most magnificent in the Republic; and although not desirous to occupy your time with a description of religious edifices, yet, with a view of affording some idea of the wealth of this important establishment in a country where the priesthood is still very powerful, I will venture to remark on a few of those objects that strike the eye of a transient traveller.
It is about this Cathedral, I am told, that there is a legend of Puebla, which states that while in process of building, it gained mysteriously in height during the night as much as the masons had wrought during the day. This was said to be the work of Angels, and hence, the city has acquired the holy name of "Puebla de los Angeles." Be this, however, as it may, the church, though neither exactly worthy of divine conception and execution, nor a miracle of art, is extremely tasteful, and one of the best specimens of architecture I saw in Mexico. The material is blue basalt; the stones are squared by the chisel; the joints neatly pointed; and the whole has the appearance of great solidity, being supported by massive buttresses, and terminated at the west by lofly towers filled with bells of sweet and varied tones. Between the towers is the main entrance, over which there is a mass of sculpture of Scripture history in stone and moulded work.
Entering by this portal, the edifice, though lofty and extensive, has its effect greatly marred by the erections over the crypt, altar and choir, which fill the building to near its arched and elevated ceiling. As usual, the church is divided into three parts by rows of massive columns. Outside of these, under lower arches, are the side aisles, and in the wall the lesser chapels are imbedded, as it were, between columns, and screened from the main edifice by a graceful railing and fanciful gates of wrought iron. A similar rail also incloses the choir and other portions of the building; and the whole, painted green, is picked out with gilded ornaments.
From the centre of the vast dome depends the great chandelier-a weighty mass of gold and silver. It weighs tons. The sum at which it is valued I will not mention; but you may judge of its extent and price from the fact that, when cleaned thoroughly some years ago, the cost of its purification alone amounted to four thousand dollars!
The great altar, too, is a striking object. It was erected about thirty years ago by one of the bishops of Puebla, and affords the greatest display
