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I Mexico on the seventh of October, with some friends, to visit the ancient city of T, and the P There are two routes; one by the road around the southern margin of the lake, and another by the Indian canoes across the lake itself. We selected the latter, and rendezvoused at the gate of San Lazaro, where the canal enters the city. There was some difficulty in finding a boat, as we had delayed beyond the hour when the vessels usually leave the city, on their return to Tezcoco; but L——, who was well acquainted with the neighborhood beat up the usual haunts of the Indians about the pulqué shops, and, by dint of persuasion and clacos, induced a couple of stout rowers to launch their vessel.

In half an hour we found ourselves on board a flat-bottomed scow, under an awning of mats stretched over saplings, and reclining at full length on the bedding with which we had luckily provided ourselves, against the wants of Tezcoco.

For nearly a mile from the city gate, the canal leads through a tangled marshy tenanted exclusively by mosquitos. The stings of the annoying insects were not idle oh our skins, and I scarcely ever suffered so much as in reaching the waters of the lake through these foul and desolate fens. We, however, soon found our way out of them, stopping for a moment at the Peñon Viejo, a small volcanic hill or pustule rising from the plain,