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208 breaks its uniformity, would be nearly unrivalled. Every object is interesting. The eye wanders from the Cathedral to the house of Cortes (the Monte Pio,) and from thence to a range of fine buildings with lofty arcades, to the west. From our elevated situation, we could see all the different streets that branch out from the square, covered with gay crowds pouring in that direction to see another great procession, which was expected to pass in front of the palace. Booths filled with refreshments, and covered with green branches and garlands of flowers, were to be seen in all directions, surrounded by a crowd who were quenching their thirst with orgeat, chia, lemonade, or pulque. The whole square, from the Cathedral to the Portales, and from the Monte Pio to the Palace, was covered with thousands and tens of thousands of figures, all in their gayest dresses, and as the sun poured his rays down upon their gaudy colors, they looked like armies of living tulips. Here was to be seen a group of ladies, some with black gowns and mantillas; others, now that their church-going duty was over, equipped in velvet or satin, with their hair dressed; and beautiful hair they have; some leading their children by the hand, dressed. . . . alas! how they were dressed! Long velvet gowns trimmed with blonde; diamond ear-rings, high French caps befurbelowed with lace and flowers, or turbans with plumes of feathers. Now and then the head of a little thing that could hardly waddle alone, might have belonged to an English dowager duchess in her opera box. Some had